THE SECRET OF SEA EAGLES
“Sea eagles are monogamous birds. They remain loyal to their partners for life.”
Along, our nature guide, talks about the white-bellied sea eagle of Desaru as my eyes scan the vast blue sky.
But there are no eagles there, just some brooding clouds and a grey sea grumbling with the wind.
Along reveals a perfect set of teeth as she adjusts her headscarf and smiles.
“I saw a pair mating in the air twice last year.”
The rest of the group readies their cameras, just in case.
“They pursue and play, and grab each other by their talons. Then they tumble down through the sky before they mate.”
Along says that sea eagle sightings are common in Desaru, a beach town on the southern tip of Malaysia.
One of the largest birds of prey, the wing span of a sea eagle could reach up to 2.2 meters.
They seek towering tall forest trees to nest in and rich water bodies with an abundance of their favorite prey — fish.
There are Malay folk tales that speak of white-bellied sea eagles screeching to warn shellfish of the turning of tides.
But can they foretell their own future?
How would they fare on an island that is fast gaining popularity as a major tourist destination in Malaysia?
“Remember, when you kill the male eagle, you kill the entire family. It’s the male who brings food home while the female protects the eggs,”says Along.
I dig my feet into the soft white sand of a resort’s own stretch of sea, and wonder who could kill a male eagle except for the cruelest of cruel.
That a male eagle needn’t always die of direct violence, that it could perish for want of forest trees and prey — a casualty of tourism, which stood on the shoulders of travelers like me, is a fact my mind overlooks.
But Along knows.
She knows how the kampungs or village homes of her land had given way to modern day homes that are far removed from the spirit of the soil.
“Our village folk couldn’t build a house without the consent of the earth on which it would be built, or without gratitude to the wood it would be built with,”she says.
Her father, a snake charmer, had used the leaves of a forest plant to weaken the toxicity of cobra strikes.
She believes that the pandan leaf keeps mosquitoes at bay and that the spider lily could be toxic to cats.
She picks up snails with bare hands and knows mythical tales that honor the half-petaled naupaka flower.
Along also knows the perils of having bored human beings travel the planet but her job — and mine — rest on showcasing the world to those that want to escape routine.
The adrenaline rush of a surfing trip or the ego boost of a successful mountain trek, the ruckus of a beach holiday or the simplicity of a pilgrimage…these are like tequila shots for the mind.
Travel gives some respite from the mundanity of regular life. It makes one believe that one is indeed on the move, that there’s something to look forward to.
Man’s search for meaning in life is what makes him travel.
His discontent with what is pushes him to seek experiences that promise short-lived joys.
But sea eagles don’t need anything more than what’s already there before them at any given moment in time.
That is their secret.
The grim intensity of their stare and the magnificent beating of their wings reflect an intelligence that makes them sacred to many indigenous cultures.
The single-minded focus of these birds — in hunting, mating, building families, and staying loyal to their brood — sets them apart from the rest of the bird species along the South Asian coast.
The grace they exhibit in ordinary life by being completely, and unconditionally, present in its uncertain flow helps them touch a dimension different from the one we have known.
You can see it in the way they swoop down on prey or raise their necks for an attentive survey, or in the way they glide across skies at dusk — alert and fully alive.
Till human beings find what they seek in the general churning of life, they are destined to roam the earth and spot new stars and land on other planets.
We will travel till we find our own secret, the guide to being wholeheartedly alive.
I head back to the ferry terminal after a couple of nights in Desaru.
I have met Jamaal the driver who took me to see his mosque — a stunning structure the color of the Persian Gulf.
I wasn’t sure if it was possible for me to survey the outer premises of a building rooted in a religion I know little about, but Jamaal sought permission from the authorities.
He stood proudly behind me as I admired his mosque. It glittered under the sun, like a prayer in itself.
I also met Chef Malek who made a vegetarian meal for me — from golden brown spring rolls to deep red pasta and jolly ice lollies all yellow and green.
Inspired by cookbooks full of colors, Malek’s fingers have never failed to incorporate vibrancy in cooking.
I assumed food to be his only passion but Malek was a volleyball player who had given up the game because of an injury.
The man simply followed his destiny to be a master of colors in all that he cooked.
On my way back, the hotel driver shows us palm tree plantations and refineries. He takes us past vacant office buildings and a mountainside all gouged out to accommodate residential homes that are empty too.
My mind sits in silent mourning but the driver wants to chat.
“Does Singapore have any kampungs left?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer.
“In another five years, you may see a different Desaru. All our wildlife — monkeys and boars and birds — they will leave to find food elsewhere.”
I search the sky once more for sea eagles.
There are none.
I imagine the majestic creatures frolicking across the blue sky, their massive wings taking them closer to their partners for life.
I daydream about them locking talons and free falling to build families that are no different than yours or mine.
The driver turns to see if I am awake.
“But no complaints…I am busier now,”he says.
New places and people cut you open.
They dive in if you let them. They influence your perspective on many aspects of life, but do you have to travel to find all this?
Wouldn’t it be enough to keep your eyes and ears and heart open, wherever you are?
Maybe not.
It can’t work both ways perhaps.
Travel is here to stay, whether the sea eagle likes it or not.
(ends)