Eagle Flight

Monday, 14 March 2011 07:00

Written by Neric Acosta

Our assault up the craggy, canopied slopes of Mt. Kitanglad in Bukidnon’s heartland almost seemed like a furtive mission – crawling stealthily along moss-covered trunks of old-growth forest. In the middle of a small clearing were two large makeshift cages that encumbered two eagles for over a month -- one adult and the other a one-year old juvenile. The latter was called ‘Chick 23’, bred in captivity in the Philippine Eagle Center in Malagos, Davao in the foothills of the country’s highest mountain, Mt. Apo.

The biologists of the Philippine Eagle Foundation informed us that ‘Chick 23’ never had any human contact or was kept from sight to ensure that its filial imprinting (of behavior) would only be triggered by other eagles. The adult eagle served as younger eagle’s ‘mentor.’ When a transmitter was attached on the eagle’s back to monitor its movement and flight patterns by global positioning, a hood had to be placed over its head to prevent it from seeing any human. On the day of its release, we scaled an improvised platform completely camouflaged by swaths of cloth, and quietly observed the eagle from behind this shield.

The experience of being deep in the mountain jungle and witnessing the return to the wild of a species considered by the International Conservation Union (IUCN) as ‘critically endangered’ because of extensive habitat loss was at once exhilarating and melancholic. The fact that we now have a breeding center to save the majestic Philippine Eagle Pithecophaga jefferyi, our Haring Ibon and national symbol, tells us that this raptor, which once ruled the skies over the vast jungle fastness of Mindanao, is in dire ecological straits. And the rainforests on which they depend on as the highest predator in the forest ecosystem are now fast dwindling – from a high of over 60 percent forest cover in the island region, to less than five percent today.

The Philippine Eagle, once called the monkey-eating eagle, would require seven to thirteen thousand hectares of natural forest to survive. Its inherent biology is that of being a slow breeder, late-maturing and having a naturally small population. A monogamous pair incubates only a single egg every two years and eagles, which have a life span of up to 30 years, would not breed until they are five or six years old. The Philippine Eagle Foundation, founded in 1987, claims that our national bird, unique in the genetic make-up and evolutionary sense, is ‘permanently susceptible to extinction.’

This ought to sound the loudest alarm bells not only for those in conservation or environmental work but for an entire population made increasingly vulnerable to the impacts of degraded ecosystems. If the Philippine Eagle is endangered and susceptible to extinction, this is a harbinger of ecological collapse that is irreversible. When the eagle goes the way of extinction, can human communities not be far behind? In this age of climate change brought about among others by unmitigated deforestation and loss of biodiversity, we are reminded that we have a shrinking window of opportunity to reverse the decline of our vital life sources.

Walking up Mt. Kitanglad, a protected area by law, was an instructive and despairing experience yet again – that in our mad rush to extract natural resources for quick monetary gain, we have ruined the earth and compromised our own future. On the forest’s edge, deforested slopes and ridges stripped bare of trees and shrubs, farmers now cultivated a mix of pesticide-dependent vegetable plots for local markets. Poultry and pig farms dotted the foothills, discharging wastes onto streams. Hastily-sawed smaller logs lined some streams and dirt roads.

Kalabugao, an eagle released over year ago, appears to have understood this state of affairs and its species’ fate. As shown by the global positioning of the same transmitter attached to its back, the eagle has been keeping close to patches of remaining forests along rivers and remote ridges, avoiding human settlements and open fields. This is arguably an adaptation strategy of sorts of the beleaguered eagle, who now has to find ways of surviving in a world overtaken by human activities, many of the destructive, unsustainable kind. Last year, Hineleban, another eagle bred in captivity and subsequently released to the wild, came too close to human settlements and was shot and cooked for an evening repast!

Looking at the Chick 23 – which will be renamed as soon as a sponsor or organization adopts it – we become unnervingly ambivalent. On one hand, there is great thrill in seeing a creature of such majesty and beauty being saved as integral to our national heritage and natural wealth. On the other, there is heart-rending sadness in realizing how much we have destroyed the earth’s bounties, which give us our sources of life – our forests and biodiversity, our rivers and seas.

In the end, this is more than the eagle and the conservation of our vital and abundant biodiverse ecosystems. This is, all told, about saving ourselves. In setting to flight the eaglet – a ‘keystone species’ so-called -- we have launched our own hopes of rebalancing an order of nature and life.

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