Making a Mountain out of a Molehill

We achieved a major milestone today, although incomplete preparation shorn it of its full glory. Mary managed her first successful ascent of Bukit Timah, all of 163.8 metres high. But having forgotten to pack any form of insect repellant, we kept to the sealed road that led to the summit and eschewed any of the jungle trails that might have provided a little bit more adventure, and that might also have added some gloss to our chest-thumping.

It's been a while since last I was at the Nature Reserve. The intention was to start a regular walking programme that is meant to gradually condition Mary for our year-end trip. Furthermore, we recently learnt the reserve would be closed for a year starting September to allow the vegetation time to recover from the impact of mass access. And it was pretty crowded by the time we arrived at about half past nine in the morning.

One of only two tracts of primary rainforests left in the world which are situated within municipal boundaries (guess the other, answers at the bottom), Bukit Timah is a biodiversity hotspot in Singapore. However, my previous visits have hitherto only yielded sightings of the ubiquitous long-tailed macaques. Sticking to the main trail this time round would significantly reduce the chances of spotting anything else. We got lucky this time, as we spotted a Malayan colugo not long more than five minutes into our walk.

Below: I -don't- like to mov'it, mov'it. Spot the colugo.

This particular individual seems a fixture in that particular part of the forest. It was visible from the main trail, not far from a plastic information board which enjoined walkers to look out for colugos. We could have ignored it for just another blotch of brown in the woods, but for a second glance and the zoom from my Dad's trusty Nikon (which I've adopted because its 30x optical zoom helps it act as a reliably functional binoculars - for birds, the kind that'll interest ornithologists).

The largely herbivorous colugo is also known as the flying lemur, although it is unrelated to its eponymous terrestrial namesakes from Madagascar. With its skin membrane with stretches between its front and hind limbs, it possesses the ability to glide between trees, reportedly over as long a distance as 100 metres without losing more than 10 centimetres of height. Most of this takes place at night, at which time the colugo does most of its foraging. The most significant action we espied was it turning its neck for a quick scan of its surroundings.

The rest of the walk yielded little more than rustlings and the calls of unknown birds, which we stopped to investigate inconclusively - often just us peering blankly into indistinguishable shades of green. We were up and down the hill in about 40 minutes, without counting the many minutes we spent ogling at the colugo. The maiden wildlife sighting was well-timed, particularly as the undiminished possibility of a second trip, and of more such sightings hopefully, meant we got off to an auspicious start.

Below: take a bough, Singapore's very own Hundred Acre Wood.