A Student’s Big Year

A Secondary 1 student recounts the challenges of balancing school life with a Big Year birding challenge in Singapore. The narrative details the excitement of chasing rare species on a limited schedule and highlights memorable encounters with migratory birds like the Forest Wagtail, illustrating the dedication required to document the island's avian diversity.

Twitching and dipping, words I have never heard before. Now, during my Big Year (a personal challenge to see as many species of birds as possible in one calendar year), I would never be more familiar with those two words. I remember seeing Jen Wei’s Facebook post summarising his epic 2021 Big Year, and being mesmerised by the sheer number of mega rarities all compiled in one photo and to think that they were all seen in a span of one year by one person! It was especially awe-inspiring to personally witness Jen Wei twitching the Yellow-vented Flowerpecker at Bukit Timah summit. With major exams and other school commitments set to gradually build up over the next few years, I decided that Secondary 1 was a relatively free year to take on the monumental, time-consuming mission of a big year. Nonetheless, the life of a student is still crammed with school related activities, leaving me with much limited time for recreation. Birding only on weekends and holidays practically shortened my ‘big year’ to less than half a year. Every hour spent off the field was truly nerve-wracking – whenever I checked my phone after school, I would be distraught to see reports of rarities, praying that the bird would stay a week for me to twitch. That being said, even if it was challenging, that was what made it so fun. In the course of the year, among all the lucky finds and successful twitches, two birding encounters made a particularly special impression on me. It was 18th September and based on trends from data on eBird and SBP, Forest Wagtails would have started passing through Singapore en route to their wintering grounds. However, none were reported recently from the famous wagtail roost at Yishun. An encounter with this elusive bird on Rifle Range Link would otherwise necessitate an ankle-breaking hike at the crack of dawn. Taking a gamble of luck, I decided to head down to Yishun. The wagtails would usually fly in to roost at 6:15, leaving me with 45 minutes to search for the Forest Wagtail before nightfall. I climbed every block, checking each palm tree meticulously. Half an hour passed, and my determination was fading as I routinely scanned through hundreds of commoner Grey Wagtails. At that moment, just as my patience was wearing thin, I noticed a bird that was significantly different. An olive-green and white wagtail with a contrasting triangular black bib on its breast – a Forest Wagtail! Words cannot describe the satisfaction of finding the needle in a haystack, something special hidden within the common birds. As the year drew to an end, it was naturally becoming increasingly hard to obtain new year birds. Since June, I had been trying sporadically to find the supposed resident pair of Cinnamon-headed Green Pigeons on the west end of Pulau Ubin. Pulau Ubin was one of the most rewarding sites for my year list, with many dispersants and visitors appearing on this small but significant island between Malaysia and main island of Singapore, but yet one of the least accessible and out of the way. Birding at Ubin was always an arduous and tiring task, not to mention the need to pay for a bumboat ride to and from the island, and a taxi to take us to opposite ends of the vast nature sanctuary that it is. With dreadful stories of many failed twitches of these nomadic, unpredictable pigeons, I decided not to give up on this beautiful bird yet, and returned to Ubin one last time in November before I went overseas. Thus, I arranged to bird with my friend Joshua and his brother for an entire day, in the hopes of giving my year list a final push. When we arrived at Changi Ferry Terminal, it was deserted save for two idle fishermen. Our sought-after pigeons were previously sighted in the early hours of the morning and time was of the essence. Out of desperation, my mother decided to pay an extra fee so we could fill the boat and leave early. As the boat set sail, we were off to a good start, having spotted an unexpected Lesser Crested Tern from the boat, trailing a flock of Greater Crested Terns along the coastline at the break of dawn. Stepping foot onto the sleepy island, rain clouds gathered ominously, and we reached Ubin Living Lab just before rain started to pelt down, forcing us to take shelter. We solemnly counted the passing swifts and swallows as we awaited the cessation of the rain. Little did we know, us being grounded by the passing thunderstorm would become a blessing in disguise. Out of the blue, Joshua spotted two Treron pigeons zooming past the shelter. Even before raising my binoculars, I could immediately see the distinct chestnut head and maroon wings of a male Cinnamon-headed Green Pigeon. I was melting on the floor in sheer joy. Later on in the day, we would go on to see a Broad-billed Sandpiper at Chek Jawa, my landmark 300th Singapore lifer, but yet, this pigeon, number 299, stood out to me as special, by far the most memorable experience throughout my entire big year, and it was because of my mother’s...