Our ‘Relationships’ category explores the intricate connections within ecosystems, featuring blog posts that delve into various ecological interactions. These posts examine fascinating topics such as:
Symbiotic relationships: Mutually beneficial partnerships like the clownfish and sea anemone.
Parasitic relationships: One-sided interactions where one organism benefits at the expense of another, such as ticks on mammals.
Predator-prey dynamics: The ongoing evolutionary arms race between hunters and their quarry, exemplified by the relationship between wolves and deer.
Competitive interactions: Conflicts between species vying for similar resources, like different bird species competing for nesting sites.
Mutualistic associations: Cooperative arrangements benefiting both parties, such as the relationship between flowering plants and their pollinators.
Urban ecology: The complex interactions between flora, fauna, and urban landscapes, including: Adaptation of wildlife to city environments (e.g., urban foxes or peregrine falcons nesting on skyscrapers)
The impact of green spaces on urban biodiversity
Challenges faced by plants and animals in navigating urbanization
Human-nature relationships: How urban development affects local ecosystems and the strategies employed for coexistence.
Each post in this category offers insights into how these relationships shape ecosystems, drive evolution, and maintain the delicate balance of nature, even in the face of increasing urbanization. We explore both the challenges and opportunities presented by the intersection of natural and built environments, highlighting the importance of understanding and nurturing these complex relationships for sustainable urban development and conservation efforts.
While conducting nature guiding walks, one of the biggest concerns is often ‘Will the birds show up?’ After gaining a deeper understanding of relationships among the flora and fauna species within any ecosystems, I have come to realise that if birds are elusive, I can instead look for the tree species they tend to frequent. Trees, after all, provide a more reliable presence (barring events like lightning strikes or removal by authorities for various reasons).
One of the tree species I often look out for bird sightings is the Albizia Tree, specifically Falcataria falcata (see link from uforest for more detailed documentation of its physical features). Typically seen from a distance from boardwalks in nature parks or park connectors within secondary forests, these trees are notable for being among the world’s fastest-growing species (can reach maturity within 5 years), which has led to their popular use in reforestation projects.
So why are Albizia trees often located away from areas with high human traffic? It’s because they belong to the softwood species, characterised by low-density wood and a shallow root system. These features make them vulnerable, especially in a tropical equatorial climate with frequent lightning, heavy rainfall, and strong winds that can cause breakage of branches and uprooting due to soil erosion. Thus, many of those grown nearer to human traffic may have already been removed over the years. In fact, after googling more about the tree species, I found an article regarding NParks removing a patch of Albizia trees at the Bukit Batok Nature Park in 2017 due to safety concerns (See link). And specifically 10 years earlier in 2007, a Singaporean was crushed to death by a toppled Albizia tree, with two others injured (see link).
The two ways to identify an Albizia tree is its small compound leaves, smooth greyish bark. The other prominent features will be the tree cavities and broken branches. Read more to find out why.
Interestingly, the same characteristics that make Albizia trees potential safety hazards for humans also make them attractive to certain bird species, such as Lineated Barbets, Banded Woodpeckers, Long-Tailed Parakeets, Hill Mynas and Oriental Pied Hornbills (there may be many others which I have yet observed). The reason lies in the tree’s softer, lower-density wood, which is easier for woodpeckers to excavate cavities for nesting. Barbets may also exploit the more brittle or damaged areas with portions of dead wood to create their own cavities. In contrast, mynas, parakeets and hornbills often rely on existing cavities, using those vacated by other birds for nesting though they do have strong beaks to further shape the holes. Thus, the mynas, parakeets and hornbills are known as “secondary cavity nesters” i.e. they utilise cavities that have already been created by birds with strong beaks that are built for such purposes.
A Banded Woodpecker looking out of the cavity along Daily Farm Nature Park (between Singapore Quarry and MOE Dairy Farm Outdoor Adventure Learning Centre).A Long-Tailed Parakeet peering out from its home. There are so many other cavities above it. This explains why the integrity of the tree structure may be weak and hence a safety hazard.Two Long-Tailed Parakeets on an Albizia tree in either Rifle Range Nature Park or Hindhede Nature Park (I have forgotten where exactly I took this photograph).A Lineated Barbet further excavating a hole at Bidadari Park. It is not known if this is a dead Albizia that have been left there for birds to perch and nest (the bark seems too rough to be one). Bidadari used to have many Albizia trees before the park was opened (You may refer to one of the photographs from uforest)
The sparse foliage at the canopy of the Albizia tree also makes it an ideal spot for birders to look for raptors, which often perch on the tree’s horizontally stretching branches. This vantage point likely provides the raptors with an unobstructed view of potential prey from a significant height, a luxury not afforded by trees with denser canopies where leaves and branches would block their line of sight. In fact, the height, shape and structure of the branches also encourage raptors to construct their eyries on the Albizia canopy. This has been well-documented by many others. Below are some of the photographs taken by Gabriel and I that illustrate the above points.
An Oriental Pied Hornbill and a White-Bellied Sea Eagle perched on a dead Albizia tree in Punggol. Although the smooth grey bark hints at the tree’s identity, confirmation would ideally require the presence of leaves.A closer view of the smooth bark.A Changeable Hawk Eagle (dark-morphed) perched on an Albizia in Chua Chu Kang. (Photo by Gabriel Kang)The majestic pose of the Changeable Hawk Eagle. You can see the small leaflets of the Albizia in the background. (Photo by Gabriel Kang)Indeed, the Albizia tree is a favourite nesting place for raptors. You can see the eyrie (raptor’s nest) on this particular one in Chua Chu Kang. (Photo by Gabriel Kang)
I have also found a well-documented article from the journal publication “Nature in Singapore”, published by NUS whereby the Changeable Hawk Eagles and the Oriental Pied Hornbills nested on the Albizia in the Dover Forest. It is an enjoyable read for those who would like to find out more. (Click here to access the article)
In conclusion, the Albizia tree presents a complex trade-off between supporting biodiversity and posing safety risks to humans. Effective management of this dilemma requires a collaborative approach, with NParks working closely with the community and various stakeholders to make informed decisions that balance human safety with environmental conservation. Education plays a crucial role in this process, helping people understand the reasons behind tree removal and the importance of prioritising safety while supporting species biodiversity. For nature guides and birders, I hope this post provides valuable insights and fosters a deeper appreciation for the importance of flora in supporting the fauna we admire. Don’t forget your binoculars, as these trees are often located at a distance from walking paths for reasons already mentioned.
Thank you Siyang for providing information about the Albizia trees and Gabriel for the wonderful photos of the Changeable Hawk Eagles.
Just One Tree’ is a blog series that explores how individual trees support life. Each post delves into the unique ecosystem centered around a single tree, showcasing its vital role in sustaining various forms of life.
In this inaugural post of the series, I spotlight a particular tree along Upper Serangoon Road. I discovered this arboreal wonder while cycling to buy the famous Yong’s Teochew Kueh for my parents on the 9th January 2025. The tree stands within the vicinity of Anderson Serangoon Junior College (formerly Serangoon Junior College, where I studied for three months before transferring to Anderson Junior College in Ang Mo Kio in 1999).
What caught my attention was the tree’s unusual appearance – it was completely stripped of its leaves. My immediate reaction was one of concern and curiosity: What had happened to this tree?
Upon closer observation, I noticed dangling aerial roots, a characteristic feature that left no doubt about its identity. This tree is a Ficus species, most likely a Ficus microcarpa, as it is one of the most common Ficus species grown in urban areas.
The location of the tree is pinned. I documented the details about this tree at the bus stop area on the 9th Jan 2025. (Source: Google Map)By referring to Google Streetview, I caught a glimpse of the tree’s former splendor. Examining its structure and leaf arrangement, I was able to rule out Ficus benjamina, as it lacks the characteristic droopy appearance. Unfortunately, the resolution wasn’t sufficient to discern the leaf shape, making a definitive identification impossible. (Source: Google Street View)The fate of the entire tree as of January 2025: The visible green patches belong to an unknown climber and some epiphytic plants, not to the Ficus itself.There are other flora species at the base of the Ficus. On the left, it looks like a Noni tree (Morinda citrifolia) with a palm species growing below it. On the right is probably a wild cinnamon tree (Cinnamomum iners).
What’s Causing the Treeto Become Botak?
I parked my bicycle at the bus stop and approached the fence. Immediately, I found the answer: caterpillars! And not just any caterpillars, but Clear-Winged Tussock Moth (Perina nuda) caterpillars. Also known as the Banyan Tussock Moth, they weren’t just crawling all over the fence; they were also on the bus stop, the walkway shelter, and even on the ground.
As I was photographing them, one fell on my neck. I instinctively brushed it away in fright, worried that its bristles might cause an allergic reaction (fortunately, they didn’t).
Sighted the first one on the fence.You can see 5 of them of varying sizes on the metal pillar of the sheltered walkway. There are also a couple of flattened ones on the walkway, either unknowingly crushed by bicycles, PMDs or pedestrians. This particular pupa at the top of the sheltered walkway has already eclosed (i.e. emerged as a moth).More pupae on the Wild Cinnamon PlantAnd a lot more on the Noni plant too.
Predators of the Caterpillars: A Search for Evidence
Having previously observed numerous cuckoos feasting on Phauda flammans caterpillars infesting a Ficus microcarpa in Jurong Lake Gardens, I hoped to see more cuckoos on this tree. I scanned closely for any fleeting movements against the bright afternoon sun. Instead of cuckoo-sized birds, I spotted two flycatchers darting around in their signature fly-catching moves, repeatedly returning to their ‘favorite’ perches after aerial forays.
Initially, I expected both to be common migrants – Asian Brown Flycatchers (Muscicapa dauurica). To my surprise, one of them has an orangey throat! It was a female Mugimaki Flycatcher (Ficedula mugimaki)! Interestingly, this uncommon visitor appeared very drowsy, frequently closing its eyes while perched on a branch.
I first sighted an Asian Brown Flycatcher flying around the tree. But I was not able to document if it ate any of the caterpillars or its adult moth. A Mugimaki Flycatcher on a tree along the highly urbanised Upper Serangoon Road.How cute it is with its eyes closed. A front view of the tired Mugimaki Flycatcher.It occasionally opened its eyes before flying to another branch.
Without photographic evidence of either flycatcher species feeding on the Clear-Winged Tussock Moths or their caterpillars, I couldn’t conclude whether these hairy caterpillars are part of their diet. This is in contrast to cuckoos, which have been documented feasting on Clear-Winged Tussock moths in my previous blog post. Nevertheless, I am quite positive that the flycatchers may be feeding on the smaller caterpillars or even the adult moths.
A Black-Naped Oriole was observed to be consuming something. But due to the many obstructing branches, it was impossible to get a clearer shot of the content it was feeding on. Nevertheless, I have seen orioles eating all sorts of caterpillars so I am sure it does consume the Tussock Moth caterpillars.
While photographing, an attendant, possibly ASRJC’s Operations Manager, approached and spoke with me. He shared his recent discovery of the infestation and mentioned that despite spraying copious amounts of pesticides, the caterpillars persisted. I suggested letting nature take its course, pointing out the presence of three insectivorous birds in the tree during our conversation as evidence of nature’s self-balancing mechanisms.
After capturing over a hundred photographs, I finally departed to purchase the Teochew kuehs. Just thinking about the Koo Chai Kueh (Teochew Chives Dumpling) is making my mouth water now.
Takeaway for Readers: Ficus – Nature’s Keystone Species
Ficus trees are commonly recognised as ‘keystone species’ – organisms that have a disproportionately large impact on their environment relative to their abundance. If removed, these trees can cause significant changes within the ecosystem. Given their elevated status in the ecological hierarchy, it’s always worthwhile to take a closer look at Ficus trees. By doing so, you’ll learn to appreciate how they support a diverse array of fauna species.
For wildlife photographers, learning to recognise different Ficus species can be immensely beneficial. These trees are often hotspots of biodiversity, attracting a wide variety of birds, mammals, and insects. By identifying Ficus trees in your area, you can increase your chances of capturing diverse wildlife interactions and behaviours. Whether you’re interested in photographing fruit-eating birds, nectar-feeding insects, insectivorous birds or even arboreal mammals, Ficus trees can serve as natural wildlife magnets, providing you with excellent photographic opportunities throughout the year.
Update: 24th March 2025
A wildlife enthusiast (Lui Nai Hui) just shared two photographs of a male Narcissus Flycatcher, Ficedula narcissina, spotted in Dairy Farm Nature Park) munching on a Stinging Nettle Slug, a caterpillar that has painful stings with venomous hairs.
These photo-evidences clearly demonstrate that Flycatchers, like cuckoos, can consume potentially venomous caterpillars. Based on this observation, I am confident that both the Asian Brown Flycatcher and the Mugimaki Flycatcher fed on the Clear-Winged Tussock Moth caterpillars infesting the tree.
Mutualism in natural science refers to a symbiotic relationship between two different species where both organisms benefit from the interaction. This type of relationship is widespread in nature and plays a crucial role in many ecosystems.
Treehoppers (Membracidae) are small, fascinating insects known for their unique appearance. These tiny bugs, usually smaller than a fingernail, have unusual protrusions on their backs that help them blend in with plants. They use their sharp mouthparts to feed on tree sap, which can sometimes make them a nuisance to gardeners. With thousands of species worldwide, these odd-looking insects continue to intrigue both scientists and nature lovers, showcasing the incredible diversity of the insect world. In this post, I will be documenting the symbiotic relationship between treehoppers and ants, which is observed in Singapore.
An unidentified treehopper.
A Moment in Nature
In the fascinating world of insect interactions, treehoppers and ants have developed this mutually beneficial relationship. During a recent visit to Thomson Nature Park in Singapore, I observed a remarkable example of this symbiosis on the Singapore Rhododendron shrub (Melastoma malabathricum). The same observation was also recorded in Pulau Ubin on a Melastoma.
Singapore Rhododendron shrub (Melastoma malabathricum). Photo taken in Dairy Farm Nature Park.
A group of Red Weaver Ants (Oecophylla) was actively tending to numerous unidentified treehoppers along the plant’s stems. Upon closer inspection, it became apparent that the ants were gently stimulating the treehoppers, encouraging them to secrete honeydew – a sweet, nutrient-rich liquid that the ants consume.
Red weaver ants were actively ‘milking’ treehoppers for their honeydew, while a weevil stood by. Have you observe the bizarrely shaped pronotum on the treehoppers? That is where the two ‘horns’ are located. Photo taken along Old Upper Thomson Road.
Treehoppers benefit from the Red Weaver Ants’:
Protection from predators and parasites
Care for treehopper nymphs
Red Weaver Ants benefit from Treehoppers’:
Honeydew, a sweet substance excreted by treehoppers, which serves as a valuable food source
Another mutualistic relationship between the Red Weaver Ants and the Treehoppers (possibly Nilautama minutispina Funkhouser) was documented in Pulau Ubin. Photo Credit: Gabriel Kang
Next time you’re out in nature, take a moment to look closely at the plants around you. You might just witness your own example of mutualism in action between a treehopper and some ant species!
What About other Hoppers?
At this juncture, I am unsure if there are any mutualistic relationship between these other hoppers and ants.
Now, let us dwell into some basic background knowledge on leafhoppers, froghoppers and planthoppers, at least by their common names.
These other hoppers belong to the order Hemiptera, commonly known as True Bugs. These insects are characterised by their sucking mouthparts and a developmental stage called “nymph” before reaching adulthood. While Leafhoppers, Treehoppers, and Spittlebugs share a closer evolutionary relationship with Cicadas, Planthoppers are slightly more distant relatives within the order. As their names suggest, most possess the ability to jump, which aids in their survival and dispersal.
Captured in various locations across the island of Singapore, these images of planthoppers, froghoppers and leafhoppers offer a glimpse into the unique characteristics and behaviors of these intriguing insects.
Planthoppers have antennae attached below the eyes, on the sides of the head.
Planthopper, Ricanula stigmatica.Planthopper Ricanula sublimata. Another one from the Ricanula genus that mimics moths. Probably the biggest one I have seen so far.Long-nosed planthopper, Dictyopharidae Raivuna Derbid Planthopper. This one holds its wings in a V-shaped.Planthopper nymph, likely from the Flatidae family
While hiking, if you notice what appears to be spit on a plant stem, gently remove some of the froth to reveal the tiny culprit: a soft-bodied, wingless nymph of a froghopper (spittlebug). As they mature, froghoppers develop a distinctive “frog-like” appearance, with a wider rear end than front, and impressive jumping ability.
Protective ‘spit’ that gives the froghoppers its spittlebug ID.Plinia ampla. Froghopper (Spittlebug)Clovia sp. Froghopper (Spittlebug)Ptyelinellus praefractus Froghopper (Spittlebug)
Leafhoppers may be mistaken for cicadas due to their similar body shape, but are much smaller. To identify them, look for the distinctive rows of tiny spines on the hind legs, specifically on the shin area. Their bodies tend to be straight-sided or tapered toward the rear.
Bothrogonia addita, also known as ‘Orange Sharpshooter’, is another leafhopper that is longish with a tapered end. Unknown leafhopper. Photo taken in Singapore, Dairy Farm Nature Park. A top view of the leafhopper to appreciate its tapered back.
Remember those colourful Panini sticker albums from the 80s and 90s? They weren’t just fun collectibles – they played a surprising role in nurturing a generation’s love for wildlife and nature! For many of us, these sticker books were our first window into the fascinating world of animals, sparking curiosity and passion that would last a lifetime.
A page from “The World of Survival” by Panini.
In those pre-internet days, our Panini sticker books held an even more special place in our hearts and minds. Without the instant access to information we have today, we couldn’t just Google what a particular creature looked like or how it behaved. This limitation turned each new sticker into a thrilling discovery. When we finally got that sticker of an animal we’d never seen before, it was like unlocking a secret of the natural world.
My own journey into the world of Panini stickers began with a humorous misunderstanding. At a local shop in an old Hougang Estate (Block 11A, now demolished), I eagerly asked for the “Our World of Endangered Species” sticker album. The shopkeeper, bless her heart, misunderstood completely. She thought I was asking for an ‘inappropriate’ magazine, likely confusing it with “Her World”! It took some browsing and pointing to the actual album before she realised her mistake and allowed me to make my purchase. That small incident marked the beginning of my Panini sticker collecting adventure and, unknowingly, set me on a path to a deeper interest in wildlife.
Block 11A in an old Hougang Estate which has since been demolished.Took a few photographs of this memorable place where I bought my wildlife related panini stickers from before it finally closed down and demolished.
Panini’s wildlife sticker books brought the animal kingdom right into children’s hands. Each vibrant sticker showcased a different creature, accompanied by fascinating facts. As we eagerly filled our albums, we were unknowingly embarking on a global wildlife tour. These weren’t just pictures – they were gateways to understanding the diverse and sometimes threatened animal kingdom.
My personal collection – “The World of Survival” which was sold in Singapore in the late 80s.
Popular titles, available in Singapore, like “The World of Survival” and “Our World of Endangered Species” became treasured possessions. Despite their cost, these sticker books provided the perfect blend of entertainment and education. We absorbed knowledge about various species, their habitats, and even snippets of conservation issues, all while enjoying the thrill of collection.
The stickers of the wildlife have been classified under different habitats.
The excitement extended beyond personal collections, transforming the playground into a bustling marketplace of childhood treasures. Trading missing stickers with friends became a cherished ritual, much like the exchanges of country erasers, marbles, and stamps that defined our school days.
The pursuit of completing our albums led to some entrepreneurial endeavours among classmates, with some young minds setting up impromptu sticker ‘shops’. However, these budding businesses were short-lived, as the school’s vigilant discipline mistress swiftly clamped down on student-to-student sales. I vividly remember the day a stack of my precious Panini stickers was confiscated, purchased from a classmate who displayed remarkable business acumen at such a tender age. Despite the risks, these small acts of rebellion only heightened the thrill of the chase, adding an extra layer of excitement to our quest for a complete collection, which never did happen. Haha.
Boys will be boys! I couldn’t resist the allure of the more dangerous creatures in my sticker collections. The cobra, scorpions, and spider stickers were always among my favourites.And of course, the venomous Gila Monster! The author has indicated the caption wrongly as venomous animals inject their toxins, typically through bites or stings. Poisonous organisms, on the other hand, are toxic when ingested or touched. The Gila Monster delivers its venom through a bite, making it venomous.
Empty spaces in the album pique interest, especially with the accompanying captions in the absence of visuals. Children would imagine the features of the creatures that might fill those gaps, fostering a sense of wonder about unknown species. What could the missing animal look like? Perhaps it has iridescent scales that shimmer like rainbows, or maybe it possesses eyes that glow in the dark.
A special excitement came from the animal pictures that needed two stickers to finish. These bigger images made collecting even more fun. Putting together these double-sticker images was like completing a mini-puzzle, giving us a closer look at these amazing animals. It felt fantastic when we finally got both halves, making the whole wildlife adventure more real and unforgettable. It’s as if the album itself is whispering, “This creature is so extraordinary, it can’t be contained in a single sticker!”
One of my favourite double-sticker photograph was the frigate bird (Fregatidae). I was amazed by its huge, bright red throat pouch that looked almost like a giant human tongue!
Those who collected Panini stickers from “The World of Survival” would likely remember the frigate birds.Another double-sticker portrait that I remember vividly is the Monarch butterflies! Probably due to my fear of them as a result of the SBC show 迷离夜. Didn’t enjoy piecing this puzzle together because it was too horrifying.The back of the Panini book.
In conclusion, Panini sticker books played a significant role in nurturing a love for wildlife among children of the 70s, 80s, and 90s. These colourful albums did more than just entertain; they educated, inspired curiosity, and fostered a deeper appreciation for the natural world.
By bringing exotic and endangered species into our everyday lives, Panini stickers sparked conversations, encouraged learning, and created lasting memories. The excitement of collecting, trading, and completing these albums laid the foundation for many lifelong interests in nature and conservation.
“Sometimes we fear the unknown, while other times we fear what we think we know”.
Limited Access to Information of Floral and Fauna
Growing up in the 1980s, our access to factual and accurate information about the natural environment was notably limited, despite the few inspiring resources available. We relied heavily on rare screenings of nature documentaries on television and the occasional informative publications from the Science Centre, such as “A Guide to Pond Life” (1987), “A Guide to Common Singapore Spiders” (1989), and “A Guide to the Bukit Timah Nature Reserve” (1985).
Our curiosity was further piqued by collectibles like Panini Sticker books on wildlife, featuring topics such as “Our World of Endangered Species,” and even the images of flora and fauna printed on the back of MilkMaid tin labels (see blog link). Hands-on learning experiences came through Young Scientist Badge projects and quests, allowing us to explore nature firsthand. However, these resources, while valuable, provided only a fragmented understanding of the natural world.
Thus, our perceptions of nature, including innocuous creatures like butterflies and moths, were heavily influenced by popular culture – movies, TV shows, and community folklore. These sources often dramatised or exaggerated natural phenomena, potentially turning even beautiful insects into objects of fear.
While there’s nothing inherently wrong with dramatisation in the media-entertainment industry, the scarcity of comprehensive factual resources (or perhaps the limited access to such resources) in the 70s, 80s and 90s meant that these cultural depictions often shaped our understanding more than scientific facts. The resulting misconceptions and oversimplified views, formed during our formative years, could lead to irrational fears of harmless creatures like butterflies and moths, persisting into adulthood and affecting our long-term relationship with the environment.
This exploration of how limited information and cultural influences can create fear towards familiar creatures like butterflies sets the stage for understanding broader issues in our perception of the natural world.
Fear of Butterflies
Possibly a Common Four-Ring or Five-Ring Butterfly from the Ypthima genus taken in Thomson Nature Park. At this juncture, is anyone experiencing some discomfort looking at this butterfly? You may have Lepidopterophobia – an irrational and intense fear that can cause people to feel anxious or panicked when they see butterflies.
I used to be afraid of butterflies, a fear I can trace back to a 1988 TV show called “迷离夜” (Mystery) and some old wives’ tales (which I’ll elaborate on later). Thankfully, I’ve grown out of this fear, but it’s worth noting that many children of my generation were affected by this show and its scenes. While I’m cautious about using the word “traumatised” loosely, it’s clear that this series inadvertently influenced a generation of Singaporean children (probably born in the early to mid 80s), shaping their perceptions of these delicate insects, even causing them to develop Lepidopterophobia – an irrational fear of butterflies and moths.
How many of you can already ‘hear’ the eerie theme song by looking at the above screenshot?
In the chilling SBC drama “Butterfly” (蝶) from the supernatural series 迷离夜 (Mystery), butterflies are depicted to have mandibles that bite people. The pivotal scene unfolds in Africa, where a father (a jeweller) and his daughter, 小蝶, explore in search of precious rocks and minerals. Suddenly, a swarm of butterflies emerges, attacking the explorers. In a desperate attempt to rescue his daughter, the father is ‘bitten’ by numerous butterflies on his face, triggering a terrifying and rapid aging process that even the tribal shaman can’t reverse.
小蝶, bitten once, also experiences the aging process after returning to Singapore. What follows are several heart-pounding scenes of 小蝶 screaming hysterically at the mere sight of approaching butterflies, cementing the transformation of these usually harmless creatures into objects of terror.
This netizen made reference to possibly 迷离夜 in a forum thread about the Fear of Butterflies.
In the butterfly scenes from ‘迷离夜’ (which I have screen-captured from MeWatch), four identifiable species are prominently featured: the Common Birdwing (Troides helena), Lime Butterfly (Papilio demoleus), Plain Tiger (Danaus chrysippus), and Common Mormon (Papilio polytes). Another unidentified species may belong to the Junonia genus. Ironically, these butterflies, portrayed as agents of horror in the programme, are common in Singapore and play crucial roles in our ecosystem.
Far from being threats, butterflies are important pollinators, facilitating plant reproduction and supporting biodiversity as they feed on nectar. Their presence often indicates a healthy, balanced environment. Moreover, butterflies serve as a food source for various birds, small animals, and other insects, contributing to the complex food web.
It’s worth noting that butterflies cannot bite; they lack the mouthparts to do so. Instead, they have a proboscis, which they extend to feed on nectar. This fact further underscores the contrast between their benign nature and their frightening portrayal in the programme.
In reality, butterflies enhance our natural world with their beauty and ecological significance, bringing colour to gardens and joy to observers while silently supporting the intricate balance of nature.
小蝶 was first admiring a common birdwing (Troides helena) when the swarm of other butterflies appeared. In a later scene, she went hysterical at the sight of another common birdwing.The scene whereby the father covered his daughter to protect her from the swarm of ‘shape-shifting’ butterflies (变形蝴蝶). You can spot a lime butterfly, a plain tigher and another unidentified species. Can anyone help me with the ID?A harrowing scene depicts the father’s rapid aging, culminating in his transformation into mere bones. This chilling sequence bears a striking resemblance to a pivotal moment in ‘Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade’, where the antagonist faces a similar fate after drinking from the wrong grail.In a near-ending scene, the antagonist in the show also became fearful towards butterflies. When a Common Mormon (Papilio polytes) landed on his forehead, he screamed hysterically.
The portrayal of harmless butterflies as agents of terror in this drama left an indelible mark on viewers, particularly the young, blurring the lines between reality and fiction. The show’s depiction of accelerated aging triggered by butterfly ‘bites’, combined with characters’ hysterical reactions to these insects, created a lasting impact. Given the ubiquity of the featured butterflies in Singapore (with the exception of the less common Birdwing), those affected by the show’s portrayal faced an increased likelihood of experiencing fear or unease during everyday encounters with these typically innocuous creatures.
Upon exploring online forums like Hardware Zone, numerous netizens shared their lingering fears attributed to ‘迷离夜’ or recounted experiences eerily similar to those portrayed in the show.
This netizen was expressing how butterflies have crisp flapping sound, which scares him/her. A scene from 迷离夜 with exaggerated fluttering sound and howling wind as the swarm of butterflies approached the father and daughter.
Some netizens claimed that butterflies create audible, crispy flaps. In reality, butterfly wing movements are silent to human ears. However, ‘迷离夜’ dramatically exaggerated this aspect, adding audible flapping sounds to heighten tension. This creative liberty likely led viewers, especially children, to associate imaginary, ominous sounds with butterfly movements. Such dramatisation, while effective for storytelling, inadvertently created a false association between butterflies and eerie noises, potentially contributing to viewers’ lasting fears or unease around these typically silent insects.
As shared by others, some viewers have come to associate butterflies with rapid ageing. Although the netizen in the screenshot mentioned ‘powder’, which wasn’t featured in ‘迷离夜’, the reference to ageing likely stems from the show’s portrayal. This association with ‘powder’ (or more accurately, their scales), however, appears to have a different origin. It likely comes from old wives’ tales (which will be touched upon in the “Fear of Moths” segment)
Intrigued by comments from Hardware Zone forum, I cast my net wider, hoping to hear from more Singaporeans about whether their responses towards butterflies were impacted by ‘迷离夜’. I shared several screenshots from the show in the Facebook group “Heritage SG Memories”, hoping to gather some responses from members of this community.
After realising that some Singaporean netizens were sharing about how 迷离夜 has caused them to fear butterflies in another forum, I decided to find out more from a FB group with over 100k members. I was really intrigued by the responses.
Almost immediately after publishing, a flood of comments poured in. Many adults expressed that they (and their friends) still harbour a sense of fear towards butterflies, attributing this lingering unease directly to the show. As I am writing this blog post, more Singaporeans have commented about their fear towards butterflies, including grown adults (they were children when they were watching this show in the late 80s). Apparently, some Malays also expressed their fear for butterflies as during the 80s and 90s, many Malays did watch shows from the Chinese channels.
As you can see, one of the netizens is Malay, and she shared that many of her Malay friends also watched Chinese shows during that time.It seems that the association of the show with its eerie theme song has exacerbated the fear.The show seemed to even create some misconceptions about ‘carnivorous butterflies’. While the show is about butterflies, some of them have developed fear towards moths as well. Freezing is a primal response triggered by amygdala hijack – a behaviour that causes an individual to become motionless, instinctively hoping to avoid detection by the perceived threat.
The impact of “迷离夜” on our collective psyche demonstrates how powerful media can be in forming our understanding and fears, especially when combined with limited access to factual information about nature. This experience serves as a fascinating example of how cultural narratives can sometimes overshadow scientific knowledge, leading to unexpected consequences in our relationship with the natural world.
Fortunately, I’ve since overcome my fear of butterflies, largely due to my growing interest in nature. By acquiring knowledge and gradually rewiring my brain with facts, I’ve been able to engage my prefrontal cortex, allowing me to approach these insects with a more rational perspective. In fact during my recent visit to Thomson Nature Park, I spent more than 30 minutes this morning admiring a beautiful Common Jay Butterfly (Graphium doson).
A Common Jay Butterfly ‘puddling’ alongside an overexposed yellow butterfly (possibly a Common Grass Yellow). This behaviour involves butterflies extending their proboscises to drink water and obtain sodium for their bodies.
Fear of Moths
While ‘迷离夜’ focused on butterflies, its impact extended beyond these diurnal insects to their (predominantly) nocturnal cousins: moths. Despite not being featured in the show, moths often bear the brunt of butterfly-induced fears, perhaps due to their similar appearance and nocturnal habits. Let’s explore how this fear has manifested in relation to moths and the unique challenges they present to those grappling with lepidopterophobia.
A frontal view of a huge Atlas Moth spotted in a Bukit Panjang HDB lift lobby. Notice the edges of its wings, which resemble snake heads in an attempt at mimicry, potentially deterring predators.A side view to show its main body. Atlas moth can be seen throughout the year but more commonly sighted between November to January.The Tropical Swallowtail Moth is slightly smaller than the Atlas Moth. Both the Atlas and Tropical Swallowtail Moths experience mass emergences in Singapore. Read more about it in this link.
In many Asian societies, moths have long been associated with death and the supernatural realm, a connection stemming from various cultural beliefs and superstitions. In countries such as the Philippines, Malaysia, and Singapore, moths are often perceived as the souls of the departed. Reports of certain moths appearing during wakes or funerals have led many to believe these insects embody the spirits of the deceased, returning to comfort or bid farewell to their families. Similarly, in some parts of China, large moths are considered harbingers of death, their presence interpreted as a sign that someone in the household will soon pass away.
This eerie association is further intensified by the presence of moths that seem to bear facial features resembling death, particularly the Death’s-head Hawkmoth, which can be found in Singapore. Its distinctive skull-like pattern on the thorax adds a chilling dimension to the already superstitious perceptions surrounding these nocturnal insects. No wonder it is commonly known as an omen for death.
Can you see a face (some people claim it looks like a skull) on the moth? Read more about this hawkmoth here. Credit: Butterfly ConservationThe Death-Head Hawkmoth is even used in the movie poster for “The Silence of the Lambs”
A common misconception that has persisted in various Asian countries is the belief that the ‘powder’ from moth wings can cause blindness if they come into contact with human eyes. This unfounded fear has led many people to avoid moths or react with panic when encountering them. In reality, the powder-like substance on moth wings is actually composed of minuscule scales, which are modified hairs. Both moths and butterflies are part of the Lepidoptera order, a name that translates to ‘scale wing’. These scales not only provide pigmentation but also create intricate wing patterns through light diffraction. (here is a source to read more about the scales of moths and butterflies). They are harmless and do not pose any threat to human eyesight. The origin of this myth is unclear. Despite the lack of scientific evidence supporting this claim, the belief continues to contribute to the fear and misunderstanding surrounding moths in many Asian communities.
Here is a photograph of a tiny moth known as Choreutis orthogona. The intricate patterns on its wings result from the precise arrangement of microscopic scales. These patterns serve multiple purposes in the moth’s life cycle, including attracting mates, providing camouflage, and deterring potential predators (for instance the Atlas Moth mentioned earlier).I recently had the pleasure of encountering a stunning tussock moth, likely Lymantria alexandrae, at Hindhede Nature Park in Singapore. Take a closer look at those ‘furry’ legs! This specimen’s unique beauty truly caught my eye. I am definitely not fearful of them anymore.
Moths (other than a few species that do not feed at all such as the Atlas Moth and the beautiful Luna Moth) play a crucial role in pollination, often surpassing the efficiency of their daytime counterparts like bees – moths have been found to pollinate flowers more quickly than day-flying insects. Research from the University of Sussex revealed that while moths accounted for only 15% of visits to bramble flowers, they were more efficient pollinators. This nocturnal contribution is particularly vital for maintaining biodiversity and supporting ecosystems. Their pollination services extend to a diverse range of plant species, including some that may not be adequately served by diurnal pollinators (refer to reference article from Butterfly Conservation here)
Fear Towards the ‘Known’
Fear is often associated with the unknown, looming uncertainties of the future. However, as we’ve seen with the case of butterflies and moths, it can also stem from what we think we know. Misconceptions, whether born from cultural beliefs, media portrayals, or misunderstood experiences, can lead to irrational fears of even the most harmless creatures. By understanding the true nature of these insects and their vital roles in our ecosystems, we can work to overcome these unfounded fears, appreciating the beauty and importance of butterflies and moths in our world.
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 HQThe 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 FranchiseNagini 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.
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:
Fight: Preparing to confront the threat directly.
Flight: Readying the body to flee from danger.
Freeze: Becoming immobile, often in hopes of avoiding detection.
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!
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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 NightjarThe 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?