Looking for Clarke’s Weaver in Arabuko Sikoke Forest

What you need to know:

Even if you do not manage to catch sight of any bird, a walk through that tropical forest does wonders for your lungs.

I love hearing birds chirp in the morning. However, bird watching doesn’t stir me at all. And so when I recently found myself trudging through the damp trails of Arabuko Sokoke Forest in Malindi, I couldn’t reconcile with those actions.

I was looking for a bird called the East Coast Akalat and the Clarke’s Weaver, which are endemic to this forest. Why? Because it makes for a good story and we are all slaves to a good story.

I’m in the very capable hands of Alex Mwalimu, a seasoned birder who has been studying birds for 25 years.

Slung on his back is a rucksack containing a tattered copy of the famed ornithologist Terry Stevenson’s book; The Birds of East Africa that he frequently fishes out to show me a bird we have spotted.

Mwalimu is extremely versed in the world of birds. He once camped for six months in this forest, recording bird sounds, identifying them and chronicling their unique data.

“There are some 1085 species of birds in Kenya,” he tells me, “I can identify 910 of them by sight and sound.”

Arabuko-Sokoke forest, sitting on 420 sq km, is the largest stretch of coastal dry forest and only second in birdlife conservation from the Congo forest. It is home to 270 species of birds, which makes it a birdie’s paradise.

“Very few Africans come here,” Mwalimu tells me when I ask him how many Africans come here to look for birds.

That somehow validates my frustrations at having to look for these two birds. To be honest, I’m looking out for snakes more than birds, so while Mwalimu stares up the trees through his binoculars, my eyes remain firmly on the shrubs for the first sign of a snake.

We spot the Yellow-bellied Flycatcher, Sokoke Scopes (looks like a dwarfed owl), Black-Billed Weaver, Chestnut fronted Helmut, Golden Woodpeckers (nice “hat” on its head), Amani Sunbird and some pigeons, which truly fascinate me.

He mentions how pigeons have “magnetic terminals” in their brains that make them imprint the original locations of their homes when young.

“A pigeon can never get lost,” he says.

“Never?”

“Never!”

As we go deeper in the forest, it gets somewhat colder and more damp and the birds seem louder, as if mocking us, mocking me rather.

The Forest reserve is managed by Kenya Forestry Service, the National Museums of Kenya and Kenya Forest Research Institute (where Mwalimu is attached) and is easily one of the best-protected forests in Kenya.

The walk is quite refreshing and the weather is perfect for the activity. Plus it’s silent and calm.

I ask Mwalimu what bird he would die to see and he says, “The Shoebill! I have never seen it and to see it I have to go to Uganda. I think it’s a fantastic bird.”

He removes his book and shows me the bird. It looks mournful to me. Or like it’s freezing. Such a sad looking bird with sinister eyes, but it’s Mwalimu’s bird.

After hours of whistling at birds and peering through the binoculars, we get to a picnic spot which provides a gorgeous view of the whole forest, right up to Mida Creek in Watamu.

From there, you can see the different forest types; woodland, mixed forest and tropical forest. We unwrap our sandwiches and munch thoughtfully as we stare out into the horizon in silence.

After 10 minutes, we set back and Mwalimu is clearly frustrated that we haven’t seen the East Coast Alakat and the Clarke’s Weaver.

Halfway back, I see a small baby snake scuttling out of our path! “A baby cobra,” says Mwalimu nonchalantly, as if adding “baby” before the word “cobra” is supposed to offer me relief.

Finally we spot the East Coast Akalat - rather, Mwalimu spots it. He’s super excited about it as he hands me the binoculars and points, “there, on that branch to the left, do you see her? She has a yellow chest, small brittle bird… can you see her?”

I can’t. But I see many butterflies and leaves. He realises that I can’t see it and suggests that we get off the path and move closer inside the thicket.

What if the mother to the baby cobra is in there annoyed that we scared her baby away? Not to show my cowardice, I’m forced to lie: “I see it, I see the bird!”

Later, he shows me the bird in his big book of birds and it strikes me the lengths bird lovers would go to to spot a small bird like that.

But for what it was worth, the walk was refreshing, and there is something about walking through that silent forest, breathing in lungfuls of fresh air.

How to get there: Access through Mombasa, 75 km on tarmac or through Malindi.