Nature Quest: Feathered phantom of mangroves

It was still dark when I woke up and went to the roof of our boat, which was docked at the heart of Pashur river. The crows were active at the first light of day -- crossing the river, calling and letting others know that it's morning. In a few moments, the golden hue of the morning sun polished the moist sky and a Ganges River Dolphin popped up. I looked at the grey glory of the river through my binoculars and moved on to discover more stories where humans had no part to play.

By then it was already clear outside and the boat crews had woken up. People on both sides of the river were on the move and a pond heron was out, looking for its morning snacks. The cook lit the stove to boil water as I returned to my place and flipped through the pages of my book. Coffee arrived and the boat sailed south taking advantage of the receding tide.

We entered the Sundarbans at midday -- the scorching sun at its peak and the wind not even blowing. The wall of vegetation on both sides of the river stood still.

The purpose of this trip was to find the most elusive bird called the Masked Finfoot that occurs in the Sundarbans in Bangladesh, a definite place in the world to find it with confidence. We have been studying this bird over the last five years in order to gather basic information on its ecology and biology that have never been fully studied before. Our aim is to understand and assess its population status in the Sundarbans, its threats, and hotspots to recommend conservation measures to the forest department and other interested parties.

Over the years, we have developed a method to observe the bird without disturbing it, which means the species accept your presence within the vicinity of its home. This allows developing a relationship with the species, which ultimately encourages the observer to speak on their behalf.

As the day slipped by, we travelled further south through the murky water of the Sundarbans. The monsoon sky changed its colour, the clouds changed their courses and the tide took its toll. At night with our boat bathed in the moonlight, we stared at the stars, the moon and celestial bodies in the sky. There was no digital interference, no urge to attend calls, check emails or be absorbed in social media posts. We only communicated with our crew members, like a happy family.

As the search for the elusive bird continued the following days, our dingi would ride up and down the canals, with our tired bodies at times carrying nothing else but hope, enduring both the heat of July, and the monsoon rain of August. There were days when we came back with fuller spirits, having spotted Masked Finfoots foraging during low tide, and there were days when nothing, absolutely nothing was found, except for unravelling the other mysteries of the Sundarbans -- the common kingfishers, the calls of the Mangrove Pitta, the footprints of the spotted deer. We were overly delighted at finding an active nest once, as a beacon of our having overcome the shadows of uncertainties, dealing with the changes in the mighty tides, the mysterious jungle and our fading confidence.

Looking back at the last couple of summers and our quest in the Sundarbans, there are many memories that come to mind. Strangely, it's not the hardships that I see, but the positives and the unravelled mysteries -- the finding of the nest, the attachment to the Masked Finfoot families, the gradual understanding of their behaviour, and later, the steps to take to improve their condition. Like tigers in the Sundarbans, we want to raise the profile of the finfoots to help protect these magnificent symbols of our waterways.

The writer is a Conservation Biologist, currently working on threatened species conservation and research in Bangladesh and abroad.