Author: Bird Brain

  • How 70s, 80s and 90s Kids Fell In Love with Nature (Part 2) – Stamps

    How 70s, 80s and 90s Kids Fell In Love with Nature (Part 2) – Stamps

    Born in 1982, I’ve witnessed Singapore’s dramatic transformation over the decades. In my opinion, nature appreciation wasn’t a conscious “thing” back then – simply because nature was all around us. Many parts of Singapore were still forested, creating a landscape vastly different from what we see today.

    Let me paint a picture of those (personal) times in the late 80s and early 90s:

    1. Weekly family visits to my grandma near Pasir Ris Park involved driving through lush, green forests.
    2. Chinese New Year traditions often led us to relatives living in kampong houses. These traditional dwellings were nestled right in the heart of forested areas.
    3. Even though I lived in Hougang, I was very near the coastal areas as Buangkok, Sengkang and Punggol had not yet been (massively) reclaimed. The sea was less than 1km away.

    This proximity to nature wasn’t just a backdrop; it was a way of life. It shaped our perspectives, our play, and our understanding of the world around us. Ironically, because nature was so omnipresent, I personally took it for granted and didn’t always pay close attention to my surroundings. Even though I enjoyed collecting rubber seeds and saga seeds, and shooting grass blades (yes, nature was more of a plaything), I didn’t fully appreciate its significance. However, I did begin to learn about biodiversity in a more indirect way – through stamp collecting.

    The cover of one of my stamp albums is filled with Dragonball Z stickers.

    For children growing up in the 70s, 80s, and 90s, stamp collecting was more than just a hobby – I feel that it was a window to the natural world. Long before the internet and smartphones dominated our lives, these tiny, colourful pieces of paper served as glimpses to exotic landscapes, elusive animals, and vibrant flora from both Singapore and across the globe. The Singapore Post Office played a crucial role in nurturing this interest, regularly releasing stunning stamp collections that showcased the beauty of nature.

    My introduction to stamp collecting came through two main sources: loose stamps carefully removed from envelopes and sets of stamps in “First Day Covers,” which my dad often bought for us as presents. These became treasured possessions and to some extent, learning tools.

    1986 First Day Cover – Local Fruits Series, which helps us identify the names of the fruits we eat. However, I find them somewhat misleading because there is no size comparison. I remember wondering why the guava appeared so small, similar in size to the rambutan, chiku and jambu.
    1989 First Day Cover that features colourful marine fishes that we were not able to relate to except by visiting Van Kleef Aquarium (the one that existed before the Underwater World and subsequently, the S.E.A. Aquarium).
    1984 First Day Cover featuring our local coastal birds such as the Brahminy Kite, Common Moorhen, Slaty Breasted Rail and the Black Bittern. I do wonder if there is any mistake because most of these birds reside near freshwater habitats rather than coastal shore areas.
    The 1982 First Day Cover on Butterflies is a fascinating piece. I do wonder if the magnificent Raja Brooke’s Birdwing could be found in Singapore. I have only seen people posting photographs of them on Facebook groups, Instagram accounts, and blogs that they saw in Malaysia. Note that this particular one contains photographs instead of illustrations.

    Imagine the excitement of a young collector eagerly awaiting the latest nature-themed stamp series in a First Day Cover format. Each new release was an adventure, offering glimpses of vibrant orchids, ferns, freshwater and marine fishes, and birds. I particularly favour the illustrated stamps over the photographed ones, appreciating the intricate artistry behind them. First Day Covers were especially valuable as they provided the entire stamp series, including higher-valued stamps that were rarely used for regular postage. Have you noticed that all the rubber stamp ink prints are of a certain theme that matches the First Day Cover theme?

    The real joy and excitement came from collecting loose stamps. You never knew what you’d get, as it depended on which stamps were used for mailing. As a nature lover from a young age, I often pored over our albums, learning about different species and admiring their colors and shapes (and often cross-referencing to the Science Centre published guidebooks).

    I remember the joy of obtaining the $1 and $2 stamps showing the cricket and grasshopper, as I kept getting the rest as repeats.
    The $1 Hermit Crab stamp was one of the rarer ones I managed to get from exchanging with my friends in primary school. The Archer Fish and the Rasbora stamps were removed from the late 1960s government documents issued to my grandparents in their shophouse.
    Flora has been a recurring feature in Singapore stamps, especially orchids. I particularly love the wayside trees stamp featuring the Yellow Flame from 1976. After some googling, there are 3 more to form a set i.e. Cabbage Tree, Rose of India and the Variegated Coral Tree

    The act of collecting itself was a lesson in patience and appreciation. We would carefully soak the stamps off envelopes, dry them, and meticulously arrange them in our albums. This process fostered a sense of care and respect for these miniature works of art.

    And of course, how can we forget about the Malaya/Malaysian stamps.

    From an early childhood education perspective, stamp collecting also helped nurture children’s executive functions and fine-motor skills given the need to take great care of them, learn to organise them based on countries and themes and through stamp exchange as part of our social activities. Friends would gather to trade duplicates and show off their prized possessions. I particularly looked for flora and fauna stamps, always eager to add to my nature-themed collection.

    Collecting stamps from countries outside Singapore and Malaysia was challenging during that time, unless one had relatives who sent and received mail from distant locations.
    I used to think that the Mongolian stamps were ‘fake’ due to the type of paper used. I love the Eurasian griffon vulture stamp! The illustrations have a beautiful style of their own.

    Since the early 1990s, Singapore Post has collaborated with HSBC bank to produce nature-themed stamps more intentionally. Titled “Care-for-Nature,” this collection of postage stamps aims to raise awareness about nature conservation in Singapore.

    Singapore Post produced the first set of its Care-for-Nature series in 1992, featuring marine crabs. I seldom see these stamps being circulated in posts, with the exception of the 20-cent mosaic crab stamp.
    Here is a limited edition stamp sheet that showcases the entire collection of Care-For-Nature series from 1992 to the year 2000. The series, in fact, continues beyond the millennium.

    Even today, I’m amazed by how Singapore Post continues to produce beautiful nature-based stamps that showcase artists’ works while adding more background information for their presentation pack. A perfect example is Teo Nam Siang’s recent series on “Flora of Singapore in Freshwater Swamp Forest,” which I find particularly captivating. (refer to link for the exact post on Linkedin).

    The amazing, realistic details by Teo Nam Siang showcase his talent in botanical art.
    This additional information, included as part of the presentation pack, provides a more comprehensive understanding of the stamp series. It offers greater detail compared to the limited information typically found on traditional First Day Cover formats. For those looking for a more budget-friendly alternative, opting for the traditional First Day Cover without the presentation pack would be a cheaper choice

    More recently, Singapore’s National Parks Board (NParks) and Singapore Post (SingPost) have collaborated to celebrate the country’s biodiversity and natural heritage through a series of postage stamps. As part of the Festival of Biodiversity, they released two special sets of stamps in 2023 and 2024, showcasing Singapore’s rare plant species.

    The first set featured four critically endangered plants that are currently part of NParks’ Species Recovery Programme: the lipstick plant, Fagraea splendens, Singapore kopsia, and red salak. The second set introduced two rare species: the two-fold velvet bean climber and the Kadsura scandens with its pale red blossoms.

    By featuring these plants on postage stamps, NParks and SingPost aim to raise awareness about Singapore’s unique flora and emphasise the urgent need for conservation efforts to protect these endangered species.

    As a gardener, I especially love the Piper porphyrophyllum, commonly known as tiger’s betel. These are plants found in Bukit Timah Nature Reserve. I have seen them for sale in the plant market (imported from Indonesia) Credit: Singpost

    Personally, stamp collecting, along with other hobbies, has instilled a love for nature in me (or reinforced my already nature-loving heart) that I’ve carried into adulthood. This passion has significantly influenced my attitudes towards biodiversity, given the numerous stamp series I’ve collected featuring stunning flora and fauna.

    In today’s digital age, while stamp collecting may not be as prevalent, I am so glad that I have gone through the era where I get to slowly appreciate the colours and the identities of these flora and fauna on the stamps. It’s a testament to the various ways we can connect with nature, even in unexpected forms like stamp collecting.

    As we move forward, let’s cherish these memories while finding new ways to appreciate and protect the natural world around us.

    Written by Lucas Teo

  • Navigating Our Perceptions & Responses Towards Snakes in Singapore

    Navigating Our Perceptions & Responses Towards Snakes in Singapore

    Good-Evil, Hero -Villain, Cats-Snakes

    Ai generated image which accurately reflects my imagination as a young boy who was scared of snakes

    A story from my primary school days, told by my Chinese Language teacher, etched in my memory and it went like this:

    In a family home, a pet cat and a newborn baby coexisted peacefully. One day, a snake managed to slither into the house, posing a potential threat to the infant. The vigilant cat, sensing danger, confronted the snake. A fierce battle ensued, ending with the cat emerging victorious, having killed the snake to protect the baby.

    With a sense of pride and accomplishment, the blood-stained feline approached its owners. However, the sight of their beloved pet with a bloodied mouth near their child’s room triggered an immediate and catastrophic assumption. Fearing the worst, they believed the cat had harmed their baby.

    In a moment of panic and without verifying the situation, the owners struck a fatal blow to the cat. Only afterward did they discover the truth: their baby was unharmed, and a snake’s carcass lay nearby, revealing the cat’s heroic deed.

    Overwhelmed with regret and sorrow, the family buried their loyal pet, now fully aware of its sacrifice.

    As our teacher gently closed the book, a hush fell over the classroom. I remember the soft sounds of sniffling from my classmates as we grappled with the story’s emotional impact. In that poignant moment, I believe many of us developed a reflexive wariness towards snakes, our young minds associating them with danger and tragedy while linking domesticated dogs and cats as heroes.

    Coincidentally, fast forward a few decades later in 2021, a viral story emerged that seemed straight out of a “Drama in Real Life” segment from Reader’s Digest. The story centred around a courageous cat named Arthur, who faced off against one of the world’s deadliest reptiles – the Eastern Brown Snake (Pseudonaja textilis). In a dramatic turn of events reminiscent of my childhood memories, Arthur’s bravery came at the ultimate cost. The feline hero sacrificed his life while protecting his family from the venomous intruder.

    Arthur the cat died protecting two children from an Eastern Brown Snake in Queensland, Australia. Credit: Animal Emergency Service HQ
    The Australian Brown snake that Arthur, a domestic shorthair family cat, killed in the process of saving 2 children in Queensland Australia. Credit: Animal Emergency Service HQ

    While the tale of Arthur’s bravery is undoubtedly touching, it’s worth considering an alternative viewpoint. As a proud owner of two rescued cats, I’ve observed that our feline friends’ actions might not always stem from a desire to protect us. Cats, by nature, are skilled predators with an instinctive drive to hunt. Their fascination with snakes often appears to be more about satisfying this innate urge rather than a conscious effort to safeguard their human companions. This predatory instinct, honed over millennia of evolution, compels cats to pursue and attempt to kill snakes and other small creatures.

    However, it’s important to note that media portrayals tend to anthropomorphise animal behaviour, attributing human-like motivations to our pets’ actions. The narrative of a heroic cat sacrificing itself for its family is undeniably heartwarming and guaranteed to elicit an “aww” response from audiences. This emotional angle naturally leads to increased viewership and engagement.

    These two narratives, whilst distinct, share a common thread: they cast cats and snakes into oversimplified roles of hero and villain. Such compelling yet reductive portrayals often fail to capture the true complexity of nature and animal behaviour. Consequently, they may inadvertently instill an unwarranted fear of snakes in people.

    More alarmingly, these simplistic narratives can lead to celebratory reactions when snakes (villains) are killed, as evidenced by recent horrific incidents which happened in Singapore. In November 2024, two men was reported to have burnt a reticulated python to death, whilst in 2023, there was an incident of an individual decapitating another python while the crowd around him laughed and celebrated (see link). These shocking events underscore the dangerous consequences of perpetuating negative stereotypes about snakes and highlight the urgent need for better education and understanding of these often misunderstood creatures.

    How Does Popular Culture Portray Snakes in Modern Society?

    Snakes, also known as serpents in literary, mythological, or religious texts, have long held a significant place in human consciousness. Traditionally associated with evil and cunning, these reptiles have slithered their way from ancient myths to modern pop culture, often retaining their mysterious and sometimes sinister reputation. In many ancient traditions, snakes carried ominous connotations. The Biblical serpent in the Book of Genesis, portrayed as a crafty tempter in the Garden of Eden, led to humanity’s fall from grace. Greek mythology presents us with Medusa, a Gorgon whose hair of writhing snakes could turn onlookers to stone. These early depictions set a precedent for snakes as symbols of deceit, danger, and the darker aspects of nature.

    An illustration of medusa staring at an soldier and turning it to stone.

    Snakes & Ladders

    In a thought-provoking yet light-hearted sharing held on the 25th Jan 2025, Anbu, Co-CEO of Animal Concerns Research and Education Society (ACRES), pointed out that even seemingly harmless games like “Snakes and Ladders” can perpetuate negative perceptions of snakes. Who among us hasn’t dreaded landing on the snake in that classic board game? Building on Anbu’s insight, I couldn’t help but wonder: what’s implied when we land on that snake? Does it subtly suggest a snake’s supposed deadly appetite for humans, perhaps even the idea of being swallowed whole and… well, exiting through the snake’s other end? Anbu’s observation reminds us that even small, subtle details can profoundly shape our attitudes and biases.

    A typical Snakes & Ladders game. When your game token lands on a ladder after throwing a dice, you can get climb up to the higher boxes. On the other hand, you will plummet down upon landing on a snake.

    Serpentine ‘Villains’: Snakes in Pop Culture’s Dark Side

    Friendly heads-up for those unfamiliar with fantasy, comics and anime references!

    While often retaining elements of their traditional symbolism of darkness, modern interpretations have added layers of complexity to these serpentine figures. For instance, Cobra Commander, the primary antagonist of the G.I. Joe franchise, exemplifies the traditional portrayal of snakes as symbols of evil and cunning in popular culture. His iconic cobra-head helmet and the snake-themed imagery pervasive throughout his terrorist organisation, Cobra, reinforce this symbolism. Cobra Commander embodies qualities often associated with snakes: cunning, treachery, and danger, reflecting a longstanding trend in media where serpents represent villainy and threat. Yet, the G.I. Joe franchise also presents a contrasting snake-themed character: Snake Eyes. As a heroic ninja commando, Snake Eyes subverts the typical snake symbolism. Despite his serpentine moniker, he stands for loyalty, skill, and honour, fighting alongside the G.I. Joe team against Cobra’s terrorist activities. This juxtaposition within the same franchise highlights an evolution in the use of snake imagery in popular culture.

    GI JOE #150 Snake Eyes vs Cobra Commander Newsstand VARIANT 1994 Credit: Marvel Comics

    In the world of Japanese comics and animation, snakes continue to inspire intriguing characters. Orochimaru from the Naruto series, a human character closely associated with snakes, embodies the darker and more mysterious aspects of the ninja world. As one of the legendary Sannin, Orochimaru’s snake-like attributes reflect his cunning nature and forbidden jutsu, making him a complex antagonist. Despite his villainous past, he aided the protagonists by reanimating the previous Hokage, providing crucial support in the battle against Madara Uchiha and the Ten-Tails. This unexpected alliance showcased Orochimaru’s depth as a character, blurring the lines between hero and villain, and further cementing his status as one of the most memorable snake-inspired characters in anime history.

    Orochimaru: The snake-like antagonist from Naruto, embodying cunning and forbidden power with his pale skin, serpentine eyes, and insatiable thirst for immortality and knowledge. Credit: Naruto Shippuden

    The Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling provides a multifaceted approach to snake symbolism. Slytherin House, one of the four houses at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is often portrayed as the antagonist house. Its serpent symbol and reputation for producing dark wizards play into traditional snake symbolism. The series’ main antagonist, Lord Voldemort, is a descendant of Salazar Slytherin and a Parselmouth (able to speak to snakes). His connection to snakes, including his pet Nagini (later revealed as a Horcrux), reinforces his role as a dark and feared character.

    Many fans of Harry Potter would probably associate snakes in negative ways due to the darker characters from the Slytherin House. Credit: Harry Potter Franchise
    Nagini is one of Voldemort’s horcruxes in “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.” Credit: Warner Bros.

    While these modern interpretations often draw from traditional symbolism, they also add nuance. Characters like Orochimaru, Severus Snape and the Slytherin students are not simply evil, but complex individuals with their own motivations and redeeming qualities. This evolution in snake symbolism reflects a broader trend in storytelling towards more nuanced characters and a recognition that even traditionally “dark” symbols can have multiple interpretations. As our understanding of the natural world and our own psychology deepens, so too does our ability to create rich, multifaceted serpentine characters that slither beyond binary categorisations of good and evil.

    When It’s Not All Dark & Dreadful… Yet Still Problematic

    A familiar logo involving snakes can often be seen in Singapore, prominently displayed on emergency vehicles and uniforms. Whilst many recognise it, few may question its origin or significance. The Singapore Civil Defence Force (SCDF) refers to this emblem as “The Star of Life,” but our focus here is on the central element: the serpent-entwined staff known as “The Rod of Asclepius.”

    The Rod of Asclepius, featuring a single serpent coiled around a staff, represents the Greek god Asclepius, a deity associated with healing and medicine in ancient mythology. This symbol carries deep meaning:

    • The serpent, which sheds its skin, represents renewal, transformation, and the cyclical nature of health and life.
    • The staff symbolises authority, stability, and support in the medical profession.
    Taken from the SCDF facebook (Refer to link)

    It is crucial to recognise that even positive portrayals of snakes can have unintended negative consequences, often leading to exploitation. In parts of Asia, there’s a traditional belief in the healing properties of snakes, contrasting with the ominous symbolism often conveyed by popular culture. This belief has given rise to practices such as the creation of snake wines, where whole snakes are steeped in alcohol, purportedly conferring medicinal benefits. Cobras, in particular, are frequently targeted for these purposes due to two main factors: the perceived medicinal properties of their venom and the potent energy they are believed to emit.

    Regrettably, the sight of a fully-hooded cobra preserved in a wine jar has become a popular tourist souvenir, further exacerbating the issue. This cultural and medicinal significance has unfortunately placed considerable pressure on cobra populations (Read more about the above from the following two articles: BBC and Geographical).

    Bottles like the above have often been displayed in both Chinese traditional medicine shops or even in tourist souvenir shops in parts of Asia. Credit: nattapong17122549 from Getty Images

    Thus, the solution isn’t about portraying them in more positive light either, especially in symbolic manners. Solutions to change our perceptions of snakes have to be scientific, understanding a little about human psychology as well as scientific knowledge of wildlife.

    Understanding Our Emotional Response towards Snake Encounters – Fight, Flight, Freeze and Fawn

    Fear indeed plays a vital role in our survival instincts, especially when it comes to potentially dangerous animals like snakes. It’s a natural response that has evolved over time to keep us safe by triggering certain reactions – Fight, Flight, Freeze, or even Fawn – at varying levels of intensity.

    These instinctive responses, collectively known as the stress response or acute stress response, are our body’s automatic physiological reaction to perceived threats. When encountering a snake, for instance, our brain rapidly assesses the situation and initiates one or more of these responses:

    1. Fight: Preparing to confront the threat directly.
    2. Flight: Readying the body to flee from danger.
    3. Freeze: Becoming immobile, often in hopes of avoiding detection.
    4. Fawn: A less commonly discussed response involving appeasing or submitting to the perceived threat.

    The intensity of these responses can vary based on factors such as the individual’s past experiences, knowledge about snakes, and the specific context of the encounter.

    Flight is often a standard response for many people when encountering snakes. Some individuals may instinctively run away, while others might take a few cautious steps back. When combined with ‘Freeze‘ response, individuals may observe and appreciate wildlife safely even when the snake is venomous as the snakes do not feel threatened. When faced with unknown snakes or any wildlife, whether in their natural habitats or unexpectedly in urban environments, maintaining a safe distance is a conscious manifestation of the flight response.

    This precautionary behaviour is particularly crucial for those who lack expertise in snake identification or knowledge of their behaviour. In such situations, a rational fear serves as a protective mechanism, preventing us from approaching potentially dangerous animals too closely.

    This measured response allows us to respect the animal’s space while ensuring our own safety. It’s a balanced approach that acknowledges our instinctive fear while allowing for a more controlled reaction, promoting safer interactions between humans and wildlife in various settings.

    A rather uncommon Black-Headed Collared Snake (non-venomous) spotted at Mandai area in 2024.

    The fight response is often evident when humans encounter a pack of wild dogs. I have observed others and personally responded in similar ways – not to attack the dogs directly, but rather to make ourselves appear louder and more aggressive, with the hope of deterring the dogs. This behaviour typically involves raising our voices, making ourselves appear larger, and maintaining a confident posture, all while internally feeling quite nervous and apprehensive.

    This response is a classic example of how our instinctive fight mechanism can manifest in a more controlled, strategic manner. Instead of engaging in physical combat, we attempt to intimidate and discourage the perceived threat. It’s a delicate balance between asserting dominance and avoiding direct confrontation, all while managing our own internal fear and stress.

    Striped Keelback spotted and guided into the vegetation at Gardens By the Bay in 2024.

    While fight can serve as a protective mechanism, excessive or uncontrolled fight response can lead to unnecessary harm – both to humans and wildlife. Recent incidents in Singapore highlight this issue, where reticulated pythons were killed despite posing no immediate threat (see link). These tragic outcomes often stem from misunderstanding and a misplaced ‘fight’ response when individuals may feel compelled to eliminate perceived threats. This behaviour, while rooted in our survival instincts, often results in needless conflict and harm.

    Sometimes, the fear driving these actions isn’t directed at the animals themselves. For instance, it may be a fear of social perception – a concern about how others might view us if we don’t take action. Questions like “Will I be seen as a coward or incompetent or unmanly if I don’t attempt to move closer, catch or kill the snake?” can lead to unnecessary aggressive behaviour towards wildlife and/or endanger themselves.

    A beautiful and non-venomous Painted-Bronzeback spotted in Singapore Botanic Gardens just a few days back (2025). It was soaking up on the shrub after the rain.

    Fawning behaviour, whilst more commonly discussed in human psychological contexts, can indeed occur during wildlife encounters. In the context of wildlife interactions, fawning can be understood as attempts to appease or placate a perceived threat through submissive or “friendly” behaviours.

    Common manifestations when it comes to wildlife encounters include offering food, avoiding eye contact, and speaking in a soft or soothing voice. However, these actions often stem from misconceptions and anthropomorphism, and can lead to risks. Offering food, for instance, is generally discouraged by wildlife experts as it can lead to habituation, altering animals’ natural behaviours and potentially harming their health. Moreover, it may increase the likelihood of aggressive encounters as animals learn to associate humans with food.

    There was a ‘fawning’ scene (starting 1:16) that failed badly in this Stephen Chow’s movie “Kungfu”.

    It is also important to note that fawning behaviours may be perceived as appeasing to one animal (maybe your specific pet dog or cat) could be seen as threatening to another. For instance, attempting to speak softly and gently with empathy to a fully-hooded Equatorial Spitting Cobra would be an extremely foolish, dangerous and misguided approach. This venomous snake’s defensive posture indicates it feels threatened, and any attempt at close interaction could result in a potentially life-threatening encounter. For snake encounters, wildlife experts generally advise against any form of fawning behaviour, instead recommending maintaining a safe distance and slowly backing away if necessary, which are both manifestations of flight behaviours.

    Calibrating Fear via Education & Self-Management

    Intervention and preventive strategies for managing human-wildlife conflicts are becoming increasingly significant as occurrences have risen substantially over the years. This trend is driven by several factors: habitat encroachment, heightened awareness of mental well-being benefits from nature exposure, including ‘forest bathing’ and increased human comfort in venturing into wilder nature spaces. In fact, while typing this blog post, a nature enthusiast, Choo Shiu Ling and a few other photographers spotted and photographed a beautiful specimen of the highly venomous King Cobra (Ophiophagus hannah) along the newly opened Mandai Boardwalk on the 26th Jan 2025.

    A beautifully taken photograph of a King Cobra by Choo Shiu Ling (Click here for source).

    A recent Channel NewsAsia (CNA) report highlighted a significant increase in cases of animals entering urban areas in 2024, with wildlife management firms reporting a 65% rise compared to 2023. Common palm civets and long-tailed macaques form the bulk of these encounters.

    For comprehensive information about road kills affecting Sambar Deer, Sunda Pangolins, and snakes in Singapore, consider watching this particular YouTube video from Channel NewsAsia (CNA). This video provides valuable insights into wildlife conservation challenges and efforts to mitigate human-wildlife conflicts on roads.

    To reduce human-wildlife tensions, I believe we need a two-pronged approach: education and self-management, targeting two parts of our human brain – the Prefrontal Cortex and the Amygdala.

    Education is crucial as it provides knowledge that helps humans think and make decisions more rationally using our ‘top-brain’, specifically the prefrontal cortex, in wildlife encounter situations. This is achieved by learning about animal behaviour and responding with appropriate actions, such as maintaining a safe distance from animals or refraining from using pesticides against bronzebacks or other snakes encountered in one’s house. Anbu’s true story illustrates this point: one of her rescues involved a bronzeback that had been sprayed with pesticide. Fortunately, it was nursed back to health, unlike many other snakes that didn’t survive due to neurological disorders caused by such sprays.

    A partial photograph of a highly venomous Blue Coral Snake taken in Thomson Nature Park (2024) as it slithered quickly under the leaf. Guess what is the colour of its head? It is as orangey-red as its tail. Credit: Gabriel Kang

    Education about wildlife doesn’t require comprehensive knowledge, as not everyone will share the same level of interest. Instead, it’s about developing awareness and understanding key principles. This includes recognising when to step back, consciously walk away, or call a helpline when faced with unfamiliar wildlife situations. By adopting this approach, we ensure safety for both humans and animals whilst fostering more informed and compassionate interactions with nature.

    One key knowledge to be equipped with is that most snakes are not ‘aggressive’ towards humans unless provoked or threatened. As Anbu humorously remarked during her “Snakes of Singapore” presentation, in her many years of snake rescues, she has been the one chasing after snakes rather than the reverse. In addition, she stressed that the more accurate term to describe a snake’s behaviour when confronted is “defensive” rather than “aggressive”. This distinction is crucial for understanding snake behaviour. Snakes typically react defensively when they feel threatened or cornered, rather than actively seeking confrontation with humans. Their primary instinct is to avoid conflict and escape potential danger. This defensive posture is a natural survival mechanism, not an indication of inherent aggression towards humans.

    Another knowledge is recognising snakes’ vital role in the ecosystem. They help control rodent populations (which can be quite a severe problem in Singapore), and some, like our native King Cobras, even prey on other snakes, thus maintaining ecological balance. Understanding these important functions can help shift our perceptions from fear to appreciation of these remarkable creatures.

    A juvenile, mildly venomous, Oriental Whip Snake spotted in Pasir Ris Park in 2025

    During my own nature walks over the years, I’ve also observed that most snakes tend to avoid human presence unlike how popular culture has typically portrayed them. However, there are notable exceptions, particularly among (semi) arboreal species. Two such examples are Wagler’s Pit Vipers (Tropidolaemus wagleri) and Reticulated Pythons (Malayopython reticulatus). These snakes often remain curled up on trees or man-made structures, appearing indifferent to their surroundings. Their behaviour is characterised by seeming sluggishness and prolonged periods of motionlessness. It’s important to note that this apparent inactivity is not just a sign of indifference but a key part of their hunting strategy. This stillness allows them to effectively ambush unsuspecting prey. If you become aware of these snakes’ presence, it’s advisable to maintain a safe distance. Despite their seemingly passive demeanor, they may still strike defensively if they feel threatened. Always prioritise your safety and respect the snake’s space when encountering these fascinating creatures in their natural habitat.

    A younger female Wagler’s Pit Viper spotted at Thomson Nature Park. Wagler’s are nocturnal and hence tend to be motionless during most parts of the day.

    However, education alone is not sufficient. Self-management is equally important, particularly in regulating our immediate emotional reactions to wildlife encounters. The amygdala, a part of our brain responsible for processing emotions and triggering the ‘fight, flight, freeze, fawn’ response, plays a crucial role in these situations. This is especially challenging for individuals who may have had prior negative encounters with wildlife and as a result, developed ingrained perceptions towards specific animals due to traumatic incidents.

    In such cases, responses can become more extreme due to what is known as an amygdala hijack – an intense, immediate emotional response that’s disproportionate to the situation. This occurs when the amygdala, the brain’s emotional centre, takes control and overrides the rational part of the brain, leading to potentially harmful or unnecessary reactions to wildlife encounters.

    This photograph of a juvenile King Cobra was taken on the Birdwatching Tower at Sungei Buloh in 2011. The snake’s striking green colouration is noteworthy, as it could be mistaken for a non-venomous tree snake by the untrained eye. This vibrant green hue is a characteristic feature of King Cobras in their juvenile stage, and it changes as the snake matures. (Note that the photograph was taken using a DSLR with a reasonable zoom for my personal safety)
    It slithered beneath one of the tower steps as I continued my ascent to the top. While the snake showed no signs of aggression towards me, its proximity was unsettling, given the species’ venomous reputation. Nevertheless, I was grateful to have a chance for this beautiful encounter.

    By practising self-management techniques (like regulating our breathing, learning to sit on moments of discomfort before going into our instinctive behaviours and pausing our instinctive response), individuals can learn to recognise and mitigate these amygdala hijacks, allowing the prefrontal cortex – responsible for rational thinking and decision-making – to guide behaviour instead. This approach helps regulate emotional responses, enabling more informed and measured reactions during wildlife encounters, ultimately protecting both humans and animals. At this juncture, I would like to share one of my favourite quotes, which I find very meaningful when it comes to self-management.

    “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response”.

    — Viktor E. Frankl

    In my opinion, by adopting this dual approach (which I admit is easier said than done), we can foster a more harmonious coexistence between humans and wildlife. It not only reduces unnecessary fears and conflicts but also promotes conservation efforts by encouraging more positive and informed interactions with local fauna. Ultimately, this strategy equips us with both the knowledge and the emotional regulation necessary to navigate human-wildlife interactions more effectively.

    Lastly, wishing you a prosperous and auspicious Chinese New Year in the Year of the Snake. May the coming year bring you good fortune, health and happiness!

    Written by Lucas Teo

  • Common Names Vs Scientific Names: More Than Just Fancy Labels

    Common Names Vs Scientific Names: More Than Just Fancy Labels

    Introduction

    Allow us to introduce ourselves in a rather unconventional way. I’m Homo sapiens lucasensis trisilva, but you can call me Lucas Teo – that’s my ‘common name’. And joining me in this birdbrain adventure is my partner-in-crime, Homo sapien Gabriellus auricomus agaricus, better known as Gabriel Kang. Curious about Gabriel’s quirky scientific name? Check out his profile picture on his instagram i.e. gabriel.birdbrain (Hint: Google the meaning of auricomus and agaricus).

    Anyway, here’s a thought experiment: try Googling “Lucas Teo” or “Gabriel Kang”. How many results do you get? Quite a few, I’d wager. This little exercise brings us to an intriguing question: Why do scientific names matter?

    None of them is me. As a nobody, I wouldn’t be in the top searches.

    The Challenge of Common Names

    Common names, while convenient for everyday use within the same geographical area, culture and language, may lead to confusion and ambiguity in scientific contexts when applied across cultural and political boundaries.

    Let’s consider the common kingfisher (Alcedo atthis) as an example. This striking blue and orange bird, found across Eurasia, is known by several names in English alone:

    • Common Kingfisher
    • Eurasian Kingfisher
    • European Kingfisher
    • River Kingfisher
    • Small Blue Kingfisher
    Common Kingfisher shot in Jurong Lake Gardens (Credit: Gabriel Kang)

    This diversity of names within a single language demonstrates the potential for confusion in scientific communication. The situation becomes even more complex when we consider names in other languages and cultures. For instance, in French, it’s known as “Martin-pêcheur d’Europe”, while in German, it’s called “Eisvogel” (ice bird). In Chinese, it’s fondly referred to as “Xiao Cui” (小翠). Such linguistic and cultural variations highlight the need for a standardised naming system in scientific contexts.

    When the Common Names Mean Different Things in Different Countries

    Many common names are based on physical descriptions, which can lead to further confusion. For instance, “bluebird” might refer to several different species across various families. In North America alone, there is a Western Bluebird (Sialia mexicana) and a Mountain Bluebird (Sialia currucoides)… and I believe there is also a Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis)?

    Comparison between Eastern and Western Bluebird (© 2025 Cornell University)

    While these birds share a similar blue colouration, they are distinct species with different hunting styles (though with many other similar behaviours and traits). Moreover, other blue-coloured birds like the Blue Grosbeak (Passerina caerulea) or Indigo Bunting (Passerina cyanea) might also be mistakenly called “bluebirds” by casual observers.

    Not all blue-coloured birds have “bluebird” as their common name, such as the Indigo Bunting. (© 2025 Cornell University)

    To further complicate matters, the term “bluebird” isn’t limited to North American species. In Singapore, we have our own Asian Fairy Bluebird (Irena puella), a strikingly beautiful bird with vibrant blue plumage. Despite its common name, this species is not closely related to the North American bluebirds. It belongs to a different family altogether (Irenidae) – related to leafbirds, while the North American bluebirds are members of the thrush family (Turdidae).

    A female Asian-Fairy Bluebird photographed in Dairy Farm Nature Park, Singapore (Credit: Gabriel Kang)
    A male Asian Fairy Bluebird photographed in Dairy Farm Nature Park, Singapore (Credit: Gabriel Kang)

    This example illustrates how common names can be misleading across continents. A birdwatcher familiar with North American bluebirds might be quite surprised to encounter the Asian Fairy Bluebird, which has a different appearance, behaviour, and ecological niche.

    This issue extends beyond birds. The term “silverfish” is used for a specific insect (Lepisma saccharina), but can also represent the Antarctic silverfish (Pleuragramma antarctica), also known as the Antarctic herring – a true fish that swims in the sea. This example further illustrates how common names can lead to confusion across different animal groups, potentially causing misunderstandings in scientific discourse.

    A silverfish is not a fish, but rather an insect, other than pelagic fish – Antarctic silverfish native to the Southern Ocean near Antarctica

    These examples highlight how common names based on physical descriptions can be misleading, as many different species may share similar physical features. This is where scientific names become invaluable.

    When the “Common” May Not Be Common

    Sometimes, we see the adjective “common” being used to describe a bird or other aspects of the nature world. It may be misleading like a misnomer. I will be sharing two examples to illustrate this point i.e. the Common Myna (Acridotheres tristis) as well as the Common Kingfisher (Alcedo atthis).

    The use of the adjective “common” to describe birds or other aspects of the natural world can sometimes be misleading or act as a misnomer. Two examples that illustrate this point are the Common Myna (Acridotheres tristis) and the Common Kingfisher (Alcedo atthis).

    In the context of Singapore, the Common Myna is ironically no longer commonly seen, despite being a native species known for its high adaptability to urban environments. This decline is primarily due to the introduction of the Javan Myna (Acridotheres javanicus), a species originating from Java, an island in Indonesia in the 1920s. The Javan Myna has outcompeted its “common” counterpart, likely due to its superior ability to exploit limited nesting cavities in urban structures and trees. This competition has caused the Common Myna’s population to decrease significantly in Singapore. In fact, it is likely that the Javan Myna is the most common bird in Singapore right now. You may refer to this very comprehensive article from Bird Ecology Study Group to understand reasons behind their ubiquitous presence.

    A Javan Myna perching on urban structures in a regular HDB setting
    A lone common Myna at Lorong Halus Wetland.

    This example highlights how the term “common” in a species’ name may not always reflect its current prevalence in a given ecosystem, especially when factors like introduced species and habitat changes come into play.

    During the migratory season, one of the kingfisher species that arrives in Singapore is the Common Kingfisher (Alcedo atthis). Despite its name, this bird is not commonly seen in Singapore, even during migration periods. The term “common” in its name refers to its prevalence in its native range, not its abundance in Singapore.

    In contrast, the most frequently observed kingfishers in Singapore are:

    1. The Collared Kingfisher (Todiramphus chloris)
    2. The White-Throated Kingfisher (Halcyon smyrnensis)
    A Collared Kingfisher feasting on an insect. Credit: Gabriel Kang
    White-Throated Kingfisher shot near Pasir Ris Farmway area.

    These observations, based on local birding experiences, highlight how the word “common” in a species’ name can be misleading when applied to different geographical contexts.

    When Descriptors in Common Names Aren’t Unique

    Two species of bee-eaters found in Singapore, the Blue-Tailed Bee-eater (Merops philippinus) and the Blue-Throated Bee-eater (Merops viridis), serve as excellent examples to illustrate why common names can sometimes be problematic for bird identification.

    Both species actually have blue tails, which makes the “Blue-Tailed” descriptor in the common name of Merops philippinus potentially confusing. This shared characteristic demonstrates how common names can sometimes fail to highlight distinguishing features between similar species.

    The key difference between these two bee-eaters lies in their throat colouration:

    1. The Blue-Tailed Bee-eater (Merops philippinus) has a chestnut-coloured throat.
    2. The Blue-Throated Bee-eater (Merops viridis), as its name suggests, has a blue throat.
    Notice that the Blue-Throated Bee-Eater also has a blue tail. Credit: Gabriel Kang
    Blue-Tailed Bee-Eaters perched on a tree looking for their next victims in Lorong Halus.

    This example highlights the importance of looking beyond common names when identifying birds. For instance, considering the time of year can be crucial, as Blue-Tailed Bee-Eaters are not present in Singapore during the non-migratory season. More specifically, in this case, examining the throats of both bee-eaters provides a more reliable distinguishing characteristic.

    Whilst common names can be helpful, they may not always capture the most distinctive features of a species, especially when comparing closely related birds. By focusing on these specific details, birdwatchers can more accurately identify and differentiate between these similar species, regardless of potentially misleading common names.

    The Binomial Nomenclature

    Scientific names provide a standardised system recognised globally. The scientific naming system indeed consists of two main components, described as:

    1. Genus (e.g., Alcedo): Represents a group of closely related species. It is the generic name of the species.
    2. Specific epithet (e.g., atthis): The second part of the scientific name that, together with the genus, identifies the specific organism. It is the specific name of the species.

    The term ‘species name’ in scientific contexts refers to the complete scientific name, which is the combination of the genus and the specific epithet. This system is known as binomial nomenclature. In the case of the common kingfisher, Alcedo atthis, ‘Alcedo‘ is the genus and ‘atthis‘ is the specific epithet. Together, they form the species’ scientific name. This two-part system provides a unique identifier for each species within a genus, although the same specific epithet may be used in different genera. The genus is always capitalised, while the specific epithet is always in lowercase, and both are typically italicised or underlined when written.

    There are 19 Genera (plural form for Genus) for Kingfishers and Alcedo is just one of them. Within the Alcedo genus, there are 7 distinct species. © 2025 wildlifehq

    Note: In some cases, scientists may use additional classification levels, such as subspecies, to denote distinct populations within a species or other taxonomic ranks to further classify organisms. However, the genus and species form the core of scientific naming.

    The Importance of Scientific Names

    Scientific names serve several crucial functions in biological research and conservation:

    1. Precision in Communication: They provide distinctions between species of the same genus (which causes them to have similar characteristics), such as the common kingfisher (Alcedo atthis) and the blue-eared kingfisher (Alcedo meninting), or between the North American bluebirds (Sialia spp.) and the Asian Fairy-bluebird (Irena puella).
    2. Evolutionary Understanding: These names reflect our current understanding of species relationships and evolutionary history. The first part of a scientific name, the genus, groups closely related species together. For example, between Homo sapiens (modern humans), Homo neanderthalensis (Neanderthals) and Homo erectus (an extinct human species), all these species share the genus Homo, indicating that scientists believe they are closely related and share a recent common ancestor.
    3. Overcoming Descriptive Limitations: Unlike common names, scientific names are not entirely based on overly simplistic physical appearances, which can be deceiving. They provide a unique identifier for each species, regardless of how similar the species may look to others.

    The Human-Cultural Element in Scientific Naming

    While scientific names are primarily functional, they occasionally reflect human creativity, humour, and even diplomacy. For instance, the Spongiforma squarepantsii: A mushroom species named after the cartoon character SpongeBob SquarePants.

    The recently discovered fungus species found in Borneo’s forests has been named Spongiforma squarepantsii, drawing inspiration from a popular cartoon character. (Image credit: Tom Bruns, U.C. Berkeley)

    In another instance, a moth species, Neopalpa donaldtrumpi, as you can see, is named after President Donald Trump due to its golden scales on its head that looks like the president’s hair colour and style (Read this article for more details).

    An intriguing example of the intersection between scientific naming and diplomacy can be found in Singapore’s practice of naming new orchid hybrids after visiting political leaders or important figures. This tradition, known as “orchid diplomacy”, began in 1957 and has since become a significant honour bestowed upon state visitors.

    For example:

    This practice not only showcases Singapore’s rich botanical heritage but also creates a lasting scientific legacy of diplomatic visits. Each of these specially bred hybrids receives a unique scientific name, following the International Code of Nomenclature for algae, fungi, and plants, while also carrying the name of the honoured guest.

    These examples demonstrate how scientific naming can transcend mere classification to become a form of cultural expression, historical record-keeping, and even a tool for international relations.

    Conclusion

    Scientific names, whilst some of us find challenging to pronounce, serve as a universal language in the natural sciences. They provide precise identification, facilitate global communication among researchers, and offer insights into evolutionary relationships. Most importantly, they overcome the limitations of common names, especially those based on potentially misleading physical descriptions.

    Whether it’s Homo sapiens, Alcedo atthis, Irena puella, or Spongiforma squarepantsii, each scientific name encapsulates a wealth of information about an organism’s identity and place in the vast tapestry of life. As we continue to explore and understand the biodiversity of our planet, the importance of this standardised naming system becomes increasingly apparent.

    The next time you encounter a scientific name, consider it not just as a label, but as a key to unlocking a deeper understanding of the natural world. And let’s be honest, there’s a certain satisfaction in being able to remember and pronounce these names correctly among your fellow nature enthusiasts. It’s not about feeling superior, but rather about sharing a common language that connects us to the fascinating world of biodiversity.

    Nevertheless, while scientific names are crucial for precise identification and communication in academic and professional settings, common names still have their place. For hobbyists and enthusiasts, using familiar, local names in casual conversations is perfectly acceptable and often more practical.

    Written by Lucas

  • Fledgling Passion: Celebrating a Teen’s Love for Bird Watching

    Fledgling Passion: Celebrating a Teen’s Love for Bird Watching

    When we encounter young people with a deep passion for nature, we aim to nurture their meaningful pursuits. This blog post introduces Claire, a 16-year-old birding enthusiast I met during my guided nature walk in Pulau Ubin with the Humanities Club tuition centre. Her enthusiasm for birds is truly inspiring, and I hope her story will spark a similar appreciation for nature in others.

    Mr. Joshua Lawrence and I, in yellow, with the rest of the wonderful participants for the guided nature walk in Pulau Ubin. Claire is indicated by the arrow pointing at her.

    Claire has developed a particular affinity for birds, with a special fondness for Oriental Pied Hornbills. Her father, recognising her interest, has supported her passion by organising birdwatching trips to various locations, including Lorong Halus-Coney Island and Singapore Botanic Gardens.

    As our group assembled at the Changi Village jetty, waiting to board our boat, Mr. Joshua Lawrence, the boss of the Humanities Club tuition centre, introduced me as the nature guide and a fellow birding enthusiast. Claire’s eyes immediately brightened, and she eagerly shared her birding experiences. She even showed me impressive footage she had captured of Golden-Backed Weavers constructing their nests in the Lorong Halus area.

    Yesterday, I received a beautiful drawing from Claire, which she had submitted for the SG60 Design Pompipi competition. While her work didn’t make it to the final, I believe it deserves a wider audience, especially from our local birding community! I love how she deliberately included the silhouette of a mystery bird – as it reminds me of “Who’s that Pokémon?”. Claire shared with me, “Sometimes, I see the silhouette of big birds in the sky and I wonder what they are. So I just drew it in relation to that.”

    Here it is, along with Claire’s description:

    Title: “Birding at Gardens by the Bay”

    Singapore has been developing for over 60 years, focusing on integrating nature into urban architecture. A prime example is the Supertrees at Gardens by the Bay, which mimic mature rainforest trees. These structures not only resemble trees but also host various live plants, including orchids and ferns.

    My drawing illustrates how successfully we’ve incorporated nature into our urban landscape. It depicts birds at Gardens by the Bay, showcasing the harmony between our built environment and wildlife. As someone who is fond of birdwatching, I’ve included people engaging in birdwatching activities and featured various bird species found in Singapore. Can you name all the birds?

    This artwork represents the successful blend of urban development and nature conservation in Singapore, highlighting how our city has become a haven for both people and wildlife.

    I hope you enjoy Claire’s artwork as much as I have. It’s a testament to the passion and talent of our young nature enthusiasts.

    Written by Lucas

  • The Real Flappy Bird: Migratory Bird Collisions in Singapore

    The Real Flappy Bird: Migratory Bird Collisions in Singapore

    Do you remember the Flappy Bird mobile phone game launched in 2013? The goal was to navigate a small bird through a series of obstacles, primarily green pipes reminiscent of those in Super Mario Bros. While this game was a simplified, virtual challenge, it inadvertently mirrors a real-world issue: the struggles of migratory birds in urban environments.

    Migratory birds do face significant challenges while navigating Singapore’s urban landscape. These feathered visitors must contend with a complex maze of commercial skyscrapers, residential buildings (HDBs), bridges, and other man-made structures, reminiscent of the digital bird in Flappy Bird dodging obstacles. For example, in November 2023, a Peregrine falcon suffered a collision injury in Sengkang. Fortunately, it was successfully rehabilitated and subsequently released back into the wild (click here for the article).

    Crest Secondary School – A Haven for Local Avian Wildlife

    At my previous workplace, Crest Secondary School (a specialised school for students who are eligible for Posting Group 1), I earned the nickname ‘Birdman’ because of my love for birds. Whenever bird identification was needed, my colleagues would reach out to me.

    The school boasts a spacious pond and a beautiful garden maintained by our beloved gardener, Auntie May, making it a haven for a diverse array of birds, both common urban dwellers and more exotic visitors. Beyond the usual Spotted and Zebra Doves, Javan and Common Mynas, Eurasian Tree Sparrows, House Crows, and Asian Glossy Starlings, the school compound has hosted a variety of other species.

    Male Brown-Throated Sunbird photographed in the school’s Garden of Hope – the name bestowed to the garden. Credit: Gabriel Kang

    Asian Koels frequent our mulberry tree, their distinctive calls often rivalling the school’s National Anthem in volume. Brown-Throated and Ornate Sunbirds are regular visitors to our ginger plants, while Collared Kingfishers can be spotted perched on the school roof, their calls resonating across the campus. Blue-Throated Bee-eaters adorn the rooftop antenna, and Rose-Ringed Parakeets feast on the fruits of our peacock flower shrubs. A resident Ashy Tailorbird adds its chirps to the chorus of student voices along the corridors.

    Here is just a part of the entire garden in Crest Secondary School

    When mango season arrives, we’re treated to visits from Coconut Lorikeets and Blue-Crowned Hanging Parrots, eager to join the fruity feast near the school carpark. Even Smooth-Coated Otters have made appearances, though their visits to our eco-pond have sometimes left a few fish casualties.

    During migratory seasons between September and March, the school becomes a temporary home to unexpected avian guests, further enriching our wildlife experience.

    Blue-Winged Pitta Trapped in Butterfly Enclosure

    One such memorable incident occurred on 25th October 2018, involving a Blue-Winged Pitta (Pitta moluccensis). This migratory bird found itself in a series of misadventures on our school grounds. Initially, the Pitta had a close call when it collided with a classroom door while being chased by our resident cat. I intervened, shooing away the cat, and was relieved to see the Pitta, though startled, remain active and mobile. After that, I had to rush for lessons and couldn’t find time to attend to it. Later that afternoon, a colleague alerted me to the Pitta’s predicament – it had become trapped inside our Butterfly Enclosure, unable to find its way out.

    Trapped inside the school’s Butterfly Enclosure

    Recognising the urgency of the situation, I carefully removed the confused Pitta and placed it in a quiet box to recover from its stressful day. After allowing sufficient time for the bird to calm down, I chose a location for its release with great care. The school’s open field seemed ideal, offering ample space for take-off while being far from our resident cat. The latter consideration was particularly important, given the Pitta’s ground-feeding habits which make it vulnerable to feline predators. As I opened the box, the resilient Pitta took flight, disappearing into the distance – hopefully to find a safer temporary home on its migratory journey.

    A closer view of it before I grabbed it and placed it in a box.
    I still remember the warmth on my palm and how it pecked me before I placed it gently into a box.

    Black-Backed Dwarf Kingfisher Crashes into School

    During my temporary absence from the school between 2019 and 2020, my reputation as the ‘Birdman’ lingered on. On one occasion, a colleague texted me about an exciting discovery: a Black-Backed Dwarf Kingfisher (formerly known as the Oriental Dwarf Kingfisher) had been found on school grounds. In the birding community, such a sighting would typically draw huge crowds eager to photograph this rare species, yet it had simply landed in Crest Secondary School. I simply advise them to contact ACRES (Animal Concerns Research and Education Society). The rare visitor was likely rescued and safely relocated as a result of this intervention.

    To clarify, I am not trained in bird rescue. When such situations arise, I follow the expert guidance provided by ACRES. I have contacted them on several occasions to seek advice and assistance.

    Unexpected Classroom Visitor: A Sparrowhawk’s Misadventure

    On 15th February 2023, a Sparrowhawk (ID-ed by Tou Jing Yi as a Japanese Sparrowhawk) – Tachyspiza gularis, flew into a classroom during a Mother Tongue lesson. The bird collided with a glass window pane and fell to the floor, where it lay stiff but still breathing. Following ACRES’ advice, I examined the bird for injuries and sent a video to ACRES via WhatsApp for further guidance.

    I then placed the Sparrowhawk in a cardboard box, included a bottle of warm water to maintain a suitable temperature within the box in the air-conditioned room, and covered it with a towel, leaving a gap for air circulation. We monitored the bird’s condition, keeping in touch with ACRES, for 3-4 hours before attempting to release it in an open field. It took two attempts before the Sparrowhawk successfully flew off into the open sky.

    The sparrowhawk in a state of shock after falling off from the glass window pane

    Not All Survived: The Black Bittern’s Last Flight

    While we had a fair share of successful releases, one particular incident still haunts me to this day.

    It was an ordinary morning when I received a call from a colleague. “There’s a bird sprawled on the ground outside the administrative block,” they said, concern evident in their voice. I rushed to the scene, wondering if it was a spotted dove or a rock pigeon.

    As I approached, I immediately recognised the distressed creature – a Black Bittern (Botaurus flavicollis), a relatively uncommon migrant in our urban landscape. The bird was struggling and clearly in distress. My instincts kicked in, and I prepared my usual tools: an empty printing paper cardboard box and a soft towel.

    Cautiously, I began to approach the Bittern. As I drew near, the Bittern, spooked by my presence, mustered what seemed to be its last reserves of strength. In a desperate attempt to escape, it launched itself into the air. The bird, disoriented and weak, flew directly into the building’s wall and plummeted two storeys to the ground.

    As I stood there, shocked and guilt-stricken, I noticed a faint imprint left on the wall – a poignant reminder of the Bittern’s final flight. Could I have approached differently? Should I have been quicker? These questions plagued my mind, but I knew dwelling on them wouldn’t change the outcome.

    A black bittern was discovered by a colleague to have clashed into our school building. While approaching it to put in into a box, it was spooked and clashed into the wall again, dying instantly. The carcass was collected by NUS for research.

    Instead of calling ACRES (Animal Concerns Research and Education Society), I contacted Lee Kong Chian Natural History Museum (LKCNHM) to collect the bird’s lifeless body for research purposes (see contacts at the bottom of this post).

    Contacted LKCNHM via Telegram for collection of the carcass. Update: the telegram is no longer in use.

    BASIC ‘FIRST-AID’ FOR A BIRD IN SHOCK DUE TO COLLISON

    ACRES has been invaluable over the years, consistently providing assistance when we’ve reached out. Even after my departure from the school, my colleagues have continued to rely on their expertise. I recall instances where ACRES even aided injured sparrow nestlings. However, as a charity organisation managing wildlife-related requests across Singapore with limited resources, they undoubtedly face significant challenges in meeting the demands of their crucial work.

    Given the challenges faced by wildlife rescue organisations, it’s beneficial for individuals to have some basic knowledge of animal care. ACRES has provided valuable information on responding to “birds in shock”, which can serve as a useful form of triage in such situations.

    The information above was sent via the ACRES WhatsApp, and it has been helpful in sharing this information with my former colleagues.

    A crucial point to emphasise is the importance of refraining from feeding or giving water to a bird in shock. While many people’s natural instinct is to offer food or water when they encounter a distressed bird, this can actually be harmful. Despite good intentions, it’s not the correct course of action for a bird in shock.

    Thank you ACRES for your services and always seeking better ways to support your cause. And also to all others parties such as NPark’s Animal Response Centre as well as LKCNHM’s deadbird hotline services.

    To contact ACRES for Wildlife Rescue: WhatsApp 9783 7782

    To contact NPark’s Animal Response Centre: 1800-476-1600

    To contact LKCNHM’s deadbird hotline (for retrieval of bird carcasses): WhatsApp 84495023

    To support with bird collision research, please help to fill up the details in the link provided by Nature Society Singapore (see external link for more details but I am not sure if the research is an ongoing one).

    Happy 2025 to the Staff & Students of Crest Secondary School

    Last but certainly not least, a heartfelt shout-out to the dedicated teachers at Crest Secondary School who continue to serve their educational mission with passion. A special mention goes to Auntie May for her tireless efforts in maintaining the school’s beautiful garden. To all the staff, we wish you the very best as you attend to your students’ needs. Stay well and keep up the fantastic work!

    Some of the very dedicated teachers from Crest Secondary School. While two of us in the photograph (including myself, seated in the center) have left the school, the rest of the teachers continue to serve the students. It’s worth noting how dense the garden can be at certain parts of the school, adding to the campus’s unique charm.

    Written by Lucas Teo

  • How 70s, 80s and 90s Kids Fell in Love with Nature (Part 1)

    How 70s, 80s and 90s Kids Fell in Love with Nature (Part 1)

    Peeling Back Memories: How Milk Tins Unveiled Nature’s Wonders to 80s Kids

    As a kid growing up in the 80s, few thrills matched hearing Mum unpack milk tins after her grocery run. It wasn’t just about the creamy goodness inside; for me, the real excitement lay in carefully peeling off the labels to reveal hidden treasures.

    These weren’t ordinary labels, but windows into natural marvels. Each one showcased vivid depictions of birds, fish, or exotic plants not typically sighted in our neighbourhoods, providing glimpses of a world far beyond our urban surroundings.

    Notice the instructions for feeding condensed milk to infants. I guess formula milk wasn’t as accessible then, and people were generally poorer during that time.
    My favourite out of all these labels is the Three-Spot Gourami as I used to keep them in my aquarium.
    The “Common Shama” (Copsychus Malabaricus) is now known as “White-Rumped Shama”

    I can’t help but wonder if others share similar fond memories. Do you, too, recall the excitement of carefully peeling off Milkmaid labels, revealing a hidden world of exquisite flora and fauna illustrations? I’d love to hear your stories and experiences – did you collect these labels, trade them with friends, or simply admire them before discarding?

    Thank you Milkmaid for such wonderful memories! (The above are my personal collections).

    Written by Lucas Teo

  • Going Cuckoos Over Cuckoos

    Going Cuckoos Over Cuckoos

    Over the last month, a “Cuckooland” was discovered by the Singapore birding community in Jurong Lake Gardens, much to the delight of birders living in the West. Several species of migratory and resident cuckoos have congregated in the area, attracting wildlife photographers who adore these birds for their beautiful plumage and elegant silhouette. The diverse array of cuckoo species includes the Squared-Tailed Drongo-Cuckoo, Large-Hawk Cuckoo, Indian Cuckoo, Sunda Brush Cuckoo, Himalayan Cuckoo, Plaintive Cuckoo, Banded Bay Cuckoo, Asian Koel and the handsome Chestnut-Winged Cuckoo.

    From the top in clockwise directions: Chestnut-Winged Cuckoo, Square-Tailed Drongo Cuckoo, Large-Hawk Cuckoo. (Credit: Lee Ching Yong, 2024)

    The Parasitic Brooding Behaviour of Cuckoos

    Cuckoos are particularly interesting due to their parasitic brooding behaviour, which birders have had the pleasure of observing and photographing. Singaporean birders have brilliantly captured images of various host species, such as Golden-bellied Gerygones, Ashy Tailorbirds, Pin-Striped Tit-Babblers, and Malayan Pied Fantails, feeding cuckoo fledglings that are often larger than themselves, belonging to species like the Little Bronze Cuckoo, Square-Tailed Drongo, Rusty-breasted Cuckoo, Plaintive Cuckoo, and even the well-known Asian Koel (which is also a member of the Cuckoo family)

    A Pin-Striped Tit Babbler feeding its oversized Square-Tailed Drongo Cuckoo. (Credit: Anderson Ng, 2024)

    Cuckoos – Our Pest Controllers

    This unique gathering in Jurong Lake Gardens has also provided an excellent opportunity for bird enthusiasts to witness and document the feeding habits of beautiful cuckoos, which I’ll focus on in this post.

    During a recent birding excursion with my friend Gabriel, we explored the area around Fusion Spoon, a known cuckoo hotspot. Despite not spotting any cuckoos that morning, we enjoyed sightings of migratory Warblers, Flowerpeckers, Tailorbirds, Sunbirds, and Pied Trillers as we strolled past the ficus trees.

    A moment of delight came when a beautiful moth unexpectedly landed on Gabriel’s arm, adding a sudden splash of colour to our walk. Though familiar, we couldn’t immediately identify it. Our friend Ching Yong later joined us, sharing photos of caterpillars he’d spotted in the same area over the past few days. These caterpillars, found on the pavement, were likely dislodged by foraging cuckoos or heavy rain, hinting at the intricate ecological interactions unfolding around us.

    The deceptively harmless-looking Phauda flammans moth, a notorious pest species, perched on Gabriel’s arm (Credit: Gabriel Kang, 2025)

    Intrigued by our encounter, I later ‘Google-lensed’ the moth’s identity and made a fascinating connection: the moth that landed on Gabriel’s arm was the adult form of the caterpillar that Ching Yong had photographed. It turned out to be the notorious Phauda flammans, a species known for its destructive impact on specific Ficus trees, particularly Malayan Banyan (Ficus microcarpa) and Weeping Fig (F. benjamina), while leaving the other commonly seen Ficus elastica unscathed (see article).

    On the left is a rather sparse looking unmatured Malayan Banyan (Ficus microcarpa) where the cuckoos love to perch and feed. Thanks Teo Siyang for the ID.
    A close-up view of the Phauda flammans caterpillar, a favourite delicacy of the cuckoos. The intricate pattern on this caterpillar’s body is reminiscent of the layered, rippled texture of the iconic Viennetta ice cream cake from the 1990s. (Credit: Lee Ching Yong, 2024)
    Another macroshot of the caterpillar’s head. (Credit: Lee Ching Yong, 2024)

    This moth has gained infamy in recent years, particularly in Hong Kong, where it has been responsible for significant damage to various Ficus species (You may read about the article here), causing complete defoliation. Eggs are laid on leaves in the top of the trees and the larvae (caterpillars), upon hatching will start consuming right from the top. In Singapore, you may have noticed some canopy branches of Ficus trees losing their foliage. It’s highly likely that Phauda flammans is the culprit behind this damage.

    The presence of these moths and caterpillars in the area not only explains the damage to the local Ficus trees but also sheds light on the reason behind the cuckoos’ congregation. These birds are capitalising on the abundant caterpillar population, which includes Phauda flammans and some tussock moth (Lymantriinae) caterpillars, as evidenced in other publicly shared photographs. This effectively transforms a potential pest problem into a bountiful feeding opportunity for the cuckoos. This ecological interaction has been visually confirmed by a fellow birder, Bai Qw’s photograph, which brilliantly captured a Large-Hawk Cuckoo (Hierococcyx sparverioides) feasting on these specific Phauda flammans caterpillars.

    A Large-Hawk Cuckoo feasting on a Phauda flammans caterpillar with another one trying to escape its fate. (Credits: Bai Qw, 2024)

    Ain’t Many of These Caterpillars Venomous and/or Poisonous?

    Yes, many caterpillars are indeed venomous and poisonous. However, this fact doesn’t deter cuckoos from making these hairy creatures a significant part of their diet. In fact, cuckoos worldwide are well-known for specifically targeting hairy caterpillars that possess venomous spikes/bristles.

    In New Zealand, Shining Bronze Cuckoos were documented feeding on venomous Gum-leaf Skeletoniser Caterpillars, Woolly-Bear caterpillars, Magpie Moth Caterpillar etc (refer to article for the New Zealand’s reference).

    The secret lies in the cuckoo’s unique digestive system:

    Protective Gizzard: The cuckoo’s gizzard is lined with a thick, protective mucous membrane.

    Hair Trapping: This membrane traps the venomous hairs of the caterpillars.

    Shedding Mechanism: As a defense mechanism, the bird periodically sheds patches of this membrane.

    Regurgitation: The shed membrane, along with the toxic hairs, is regurgitated as a pellet.

    Interestingly, the Bird Ecology Study Group has documented another intriguing behaviour: some cuckoos have been observed rubbing caterpillars against rough tree bark. This action likely serves to remove or reduce the number of irritating hairs on the caterpillar before consumption, further minimising the risk to the bird (see link).

    Back in the Jurong Lake Gardens, the cuckoos were photographed to have consumed hairy caterpillars such as the Clearwing Tussock Moth Caterpillar (Perina nuda).

    A Square-Tailed Drongo Cuckoo feasting on a Clear-Winged Tussock Moth (Credit: Bai Qw)
    A close-up shot of the Clear-Winged Tussock Moth discovered by Ching Yong near Fusion Spoon (Credit: Lee Ching Yong)

    As for toxic caterpillars well-known for their aposematic colouring, photographers have caught images and videos of cuckoos thrashing the caterpillars such that the toxic guts spilled out before consuming them.

    A Banded-Bay Cuckoo bashing and thrashing the caterpillar to remove the toxic guts and some of the hairs. (Credit: Bai Qw, 2024)

    Thank You Cuckoos for Your Service

    Before penning this post, I harboured doubts about Singapore’s ecosystem’s capacity to sustainably support the influx of migratory birds. Now, having witnessed this intricate dance between the Ficus trees, Phauda flammans caterpillars, and cuckoos, I’m positive about what our “city-in-a-garden” can offer to these beautiful visitors. It’s clear that our urban landscape offers more than meets the eye, providing a rich and complex habitat that can indeed sustain and attract diverse wildlife.

    A heartfelt thank you to our feathered friends for their pest control services! Special appreciation goes to Anderson Ng, Bai Qw, and Lee Ching Yong for their stunning photographs.

    Written by Lucas

  • Towards A More Ethical 2025 in Wildlife Photography

    Towards A More Ethical 2025 in Wildlife Photography

    As wildlife enthusiasts and photographers, we often find ourselves in situations that test our ethical boundaries. In 2024, I have experienced several moments, which led me to reflect on my own practices as well as my own role in promoting responsible wildlife photography.

    An Uncomfortable Encounter

    Stork-Billed Kingfisher photographed in August at the Singapore Quarry

    My first clear photo of a Stork-billed Kingfisher came under circumstances that left me feeling uneasy. At the Singapore Quarry, surrounded by over 30 other birders, I witnessed behaviour that I now regret not addressing. Some individuals were tossing whole slices of bread into the water to gather the fishes to a particular spot where the photographers were aiming at. The ripples created by the fishes lured the kingfisher from a distant tree, prompting it to dive before perching right in front of us. I took a few shots, feeling conflicted – admiring the beautiful colours of the kingfisher in such a close distance but yet feeling guilt-stricken.

    The act of tossing bread into the water started triggering more hunting behaviour in various birds present, including the Grey-headed Fish Eagle and Oriental Darter.

    The Motivation Behind Unethical Practices

    The primary objective seemed to be capturing dramatic shots: “Birds in Flight”, photographs, “Fish in Mouth” images i.e. action shots preferred over standard perched bird photos. This practice raises several concerns. Bread lacks nutritional value for wildlife, adding empty calories to their diet. Uneaten bread may pollute the water. Moreover, feeding wildlife, in general, is discouraged and often prohibited.

    Feeling conflicted, I decided to act on my discomfort. I left Singapore Quarry after just 10 minutes, despite usually spending over an hour birdwatching. This decision meant missing the Oriental Darter’s and the Grey-Headed Fish Eagle’s feeding behaviours.

    Unfortunately, the incident at the Singapore Quarry isn’t isolated. Similar unethical behaviours have been observed across various locations, highlighting a concerning trend in wildlife photography.

    At Dairy Farm’s small pond, I’ve heard about a small group of individuals releasing feeder fish, feeder shrimps and glofish to get the Blue-Earred Kingfisher’s ‘Food-In-Mouth’ photographs. Social media has become a showcase for these questionable practices, with posts featuring blue-earred kingfishers capturing non-native fish species. Even more troubling are the discussions among photographers about which fish species to introduce next for ‘ideal’ shots.

    The issue continues during this year’s migratory season when Singapore becomes a temporary home for exotic birds, drawing large crowds of eager birders. In the newly opened Bidadari Park, rumours circulated about individuals releasing American Bull Frogs – typically sold in aquarium shops as live feed – to entice one particular Ruddy Kingfisher. Over several weeks, numerous photographs emerged showing this kingfisher with non-native frogs in its mouths, raising ethical and environmental concerns. Rumour had it that someone actually broke the frogs’ legs to keep them in the patch, allowing for a clear shot of the Ruddy.

    These practices not only disrupt natural ecosystems but also potentially harm the very wildlife we aim to appreciate and document. They represent a fundamental misunderstanding of our role as observers and documentarians of nature, prioritising a perfect shot over the wellbeing of the subjects we photograph.

    As wildlife enthusiasts and photographers, we must recognise the far-reaching consequences of these actions. It’s crucial to foster a community that values ethical practices and respects the natural behaviours and habitats of wildlife. Only then can we truly capture the essence of nature without compromising its integrity.

    I Can Do Better Myself

    The enthusiasm for capturing great wildlife shots is something I understand all too well. Like many others in this field, I’ve had my own lapses in judgment, particularly when it comes to approaching birds too closely, even near their nests.

    One incident from earlier this year stands out, leaving me with a profound sense of guilt and shame. While cycling with my family in Pasir Ris Park, I spotted a Large-Tailed Nightjar. Excited by the sighting and without my usual zoom camera, I approached the bird with just my smartphone, hoping for a clearer picture. My actions frightened the nightjar, causing it to fly away and expose its eggs.

    A fellow birder who was following behind me, witnessing this, sternly warned me against sharing the location and reprimanded me for my close approach. Although I initially tried to justify my actions, deep down I knew I was wrong. I silently thanked her for the reminder about my actions and the greater mission we share as wildlife enthusiasts.

    An unethical handphone shot of the Large-Tailed Nightjar
    The moment I saw the two eggs after the mum flew off, I was guilt-stricken.

    Beyond the incident with the nightjar, I’ve faced other ethical challenges in my wildlife photography journey. The temptation to handle wildlife such as snakes, lizards, and frogs for that perfect shot has been a recurring struggle. However, each of these experiences has become a valuable lesson in restraint and respect for nature.

    Moving Forward

    As I continue to grow in this field, gaining both experience and credibility, I’ve come to realise the importance of not only improving my own practices but also gently guiding others. Educating fellow enthusiasts about responsible wildlife watching has become an integral part of my mission. It’s crucial to remember that this journey towards ethical wildlife photography is an ongoing process. All of us who share this passion for nature and wildlife photography are constantly learning, adapting, and hopefully, improving.

    By openly discussing these challenges and sharing our experiences, we create a community of more conscientious observers and documentarians of the natural world. This collective effort to balance our enthusiasm for capturing wildlife with our responsibility to protect it is what will ultimately ensure that our passion contributes positively to conservation efforts rather than inadvertently causing harm.

    What are your thoughts on this issue? Have you encountered similar situations?

    Written by Lucas

  • Nature’s Anime Cosplay (Part 1): From Dragon Ball Characters to Singapore’s Wildlife

    Nature’s Anime Cosplay (Part 1): From Dragon Ball Characters to Singapore’s Wildlife

    This week in the anime world, Dragon Ball fans celebrated Vegeta’s epic Super Saiyan 3 transformation! What an exhilarating moment for the Prince of Saiyans! To commemorate this milestone, I’ve decided to draw an intriguing parallel between Dragon Ball and nature. Thanks to a local birder Leonard Kok who gave me an inspiration to write about it.

    In 1994, whilst I was hospitalised for a severe medical reaction, my parents presented me with a colourful Dragon Ball manga volume to boost my spirits and encourage my recovery. The book showcased the familiar heroes like Goku, Krillin, Piccolo, and Gohan, alongside some new antagonists. I was particularly captivated by the main villain – Cooler, who is, in fact, Frieza’s elder brother.

    Cooler concept art drawn by Akira Toriyama (Credit: Dragon Ball Wiki)

    For nature enthusiasts, many of you may immediately find yourself connecting this character with exotic creatures you’ve encountered in the wild. For me, however, it wasn’t until more than two decades after reading that manga that I realised Cooler’s final form bears a resemblance to one of my favourite caterpillars: the Plain Nawab (Polyura hebe plautus) caterpillar or the Blue Nawab (Polyura schreiber tisamenus).

    A frontal view of the Plain Nawab Caterpillar with its iconic head resting on its host tree leaves – the Saga Tree (Adenanthera pavonina)
    Cooler in his coolest form, which has a head structure that resembles the Nawab caterpillars. (Credit: Dragon Ball Wiki)

    Fast forward to today: I stumbled upon an incredible connection between nature and anime on the Bird Sightings Facebook Group. The star of this unexpected crossover? The Chestnut-Winged Cuckoo (Clamator coromandus), a migratory bird that has recently graced Singapore with its presence. Several of these stunning creatures have been spotted in the newly renovated Jurong Lake Gardens, and Leonard Kok, one of the lucky and dedicated birders, managed to capture a beautiful shot of it.

    What makes this sighting truly extraordinary is the uncanny resemblance Leonard noticed. Alongside the cuckoo’s photo, he cleverly juxtaposed a picture of Son Goku from Dragon Ball Z in his original form, sporting his iconic blue and orange outfit. The similarity is nothing short of striking! The cuckoo’s distinctive crest mirrors Goku’s gravity-defying black hair, while even the colour combination seems to match perfectly.

    But the parallels don’t stop there. Remarkably, the bird’s posture exudes the same positive energy and confidence that Goku is known for.

    Imagine this cuckoo can get into a Super Saiyan form! LOL. Now that would be a sight to behold – a golden-crested cuckoo with glowing aura.

    I can’t unsee the resemblance now (Credit: LK Photography)

    Interestingly, just as Goku ultimately defeated Cooler in an epic battle, nature has its own version of this showdown. The Chestnut-Winged Cuckoo, our Goku lookalike, is known to feed on various insects, including caterpillars. So, in a twist of cosmic irony, our cuckoo friend might actually prey on caterpillars similar to the Nawab that reminded us of Cooler! It’s as if the natural world is playing out its own version of Dragon Ball Z battles right before our eyes.

    These delightful comparisons not only showcase the beauty of nature but also remind us of the unexpected ways pop culture and wildlife can intersect. It’s a testament to the keen eye of nature enthusiasts and the magic that can happen when we view the world around us with a touch of imagination.

    Written by Lucas

  • A Tale of Two ‘Tongues’ (or No Tongue)

    A Tale of Two ‘Tongues’ (or No Tongue)

    It has been over a year since my last offshore fishing trip, and today I finally had the chance to join my friends for an exciting expedition in the Southern Islands area, situated between Sentosa and Saint John’s Island.

    Passing by PSA on Our Fishing Boat

    With Chinese New Year approaching, we embarked on our fishing trip with high hopes of landing some prized catches like Coral Trout, Golden Snapper, Red Snapper, or the Orange-Spotted Grouper for our reunion dinners. However, our enthusiasm was dampened by unfavourable weather conditions, as heavy downpours significantly impacted the bite rate, making our quest more challenging.

    In the end, we caught a variety of other fishes instead, that included a Black Spot Tuskfish (Choerodon schoenleinii), which is often mistakenly called ‘Eng Kor’ or Parrot Fish in Hokkien, despite belonging to a different family than true parrotfish (Scaridae). We also caught a Fingermark Seaperch, commonly known as ‘Golden Snapper’ (Lutjanus johnii), and an impressively large ‘Leng Jiam’, also known as a Spangled Emperor (Lethrinus nebulosus). To round out our catch, we reeled in numerous ‘Tee Boon’, or Spanish Flag Snapper (Lutjanus carponotatus). While we may not have caught exactly what we were aiming for, we enjoyed the time spent together.

    Alvin, an ex-colleague caught a beautiful Spangled Emperor
    A Black-Spotted Tuskfish with a broken tooth (tusk). Parrot fish, on the other hand, has strong human-liked teeth to chomp through corals with ease.
    Warning: If you have entomophobia (a fear of insects) or hemophobia (a fear of blood), please do not continue with the article. 

    A Nightmarish and Disturbing Discovery

    Our fishing adventure was filled with unexpected sights and discoveries. During our trip, we were treated to the majestic view of 5-6 White-Bellied Sea Eagles (Haliaeetus leucogaster) soaring through the sky and perching on one of St. John’s Island’s Casuarina Trees. We also exclaimed in awe at the sight of a huge turtle, most likely a Green Turtle (Chelonia mydas) given its impressive size.

    A disturbing yet fascinating discovery was the Tongue-Eating Louse (Cymothoa exigua), I mean lice, as there were two of them in the mouth of a Spanish Flag Snapper, caught by my ex-colleague, Marvin.

    Inside the mouth of a Spanish flag snapper, two tongue-eating lice have yet attached themselves
    When I reached home, the two lice have found its rightful place on the tongue.

    Behaviours & Appearances of the Parasitic Isopods

    During their juvenile stage, these isopods swim freely in the ocean before attaching themselves to fish. They then crawl into the fish’s mouth through the gills and make their way to the tongue, where they anchor themselves using their sharp claws. This clever manoeuvre cuts off blood circulation to the tongue, causing the tongue to eventually experience necrosis.

    But that’s not the most astonishing part – the parasite then positions itself as a replacement tongue, essentially becoming a functional part of the fish’s anatomy. It survives by feeding on the host’s blood and mucus.

    The photograph above shows two tongue-eating lice, with the larger female (approximately 20mm) taking center stage and the smaller male (about 8mm) positioned behind and slightly underneath her. Apparently, they are protandrous hermaphrodites as they begin their lives as males and mature into females. Thus, it is safe to deduce that the smaller one is not just smaller in size but younger in age as well.

    As I cleaned and prepared the fish for freezing, I carefully extracted the tongue, which still had the two isopods attached. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t separate them from the tongue, as their multiple pairs of legs were tightly lodged in place. What struck me as remarkable was that, even after being out of water for over 6 hours, the isopods were still alive and moving. This raised an intriguing question: are these tiny creatures capable of breathing air?

    After gutting the fish, I removed the tongue and saw the two isopods in this particular position.
    Observe the back of the female. Looks like part of the body structure that allows the isopods to swim through the water. Does anyone have more information about the anatomy of this isopod crustacean?

    As much as they are scary-looking creatures, these parasites do not really kill their hosts and often the latter will outlive the parasites. Nevertheless, the host may be slightly malnourished.

    The host where the tongue-destroyers lived looks thinner than my usual catch of Spanish Flag Snappers.
    The underside of the two parasites. How many pairs of legs can you see?

    After I have preserved the parasites in a bottle of 70% alcohol, the bigger female started having babies floating around. So it wasn’t bloated. It was pregnant!

    Ewwwww… Goosebumps!

    I’ve spent what feels like an eternity observing these two creatures, all in the pursuit of accurately documenting their behaviours and appearances. Despite being an insect enthusiast – I even keep terrestrial isopods as pets – there’s something about these particular creatures that sends shivers down my spine and leaves me covered in goosebumps.

    And so, our journey into the bizarre world of tongue-eating lice comes to an end. But if you’re ready for more adventures into the uncharted territories of Earth’s biodiversity, be sure to follow birdbrain blog for a wild ride. From the fascinating to the frightening, we’ll explore it all – so, buckle up and join us, but be warned: not all of our discoveries will be for the faint of heart!

    Written by Lucas