Latuola Mountain Pass
On the second day, we headed to the Latuola Mountain Pass, reaching an elevation of about 4,000 m in search of Himalayan Snowcocks. Departing from Gyirong Town around 6:30 a.m., we passed through Zha Village and a few hills. It took us about one hour to reach the mountain pass in Latuola. We passed several snow-capped peaks on the way while the underneath conifer forests gradually brightened in the morning light.
Suddenly, Mr. Shi pulled over the jeep. Following his instruction, we managed to spot a male Blood Pheasant perching just next to the road! It was so close, probably the closest Blood Pheasant I had ever met. Later on, we encountered several groups of Himalayan Monals crossing the road. Although I had already seen dozens of them at Kajiu Monastery a couple of days earlier, witnessing so many again along the road was still quite a spectacle. The last time I saw so many wild Galliformes was five years ago at Balang Mountain. With the unpaved roads here, perhaps these birds are indeed lucky.
As we approached the pass, Mr. Shi spotted a snowcock flying overhead—likely a Himalayan Snowcock. We stopped the jeep, and while the others watched the bird through their binoculars, I was a bit slow to react and only saw a tiny black dot disappearing into the distant mountains. Fortunately, Tianyang was quick enough to snap a few photos, though it may be too far away to identify. Shuangqi mentioned seeing the bird’s distinctive white rump, confirming it as a Himalayan Snowcock instead of the sympatric Tibetan Snowcock. The latter usually occurs at a higher altitude there.
When we reached the pass, the sky was still dimly lit. We exited the jeep and climbed up a section of the hillside. The pass had ruins, where a Wren was hopping around while Large-billed Crows and White Wagtails flew nearby. When we climbed a bit, reaching the alpine shrub about 4,000 m in elevation, we encountered some Tickell’s Leaf Warblers. They were usually supposed to descend then to a lower altitude, but there were still some late ones.
The target species in the shrub were the Smoky Warblers and Himalayan White-browed Rosefinches. Stepping towards the summit, Shuangqi was the first to spot a Smoky Warbler foraging. When we all found the bird, it caught a midge in the brush. The Smoky Warblers in Gyirong look noticeably different from those in Qinghai, with slightly darker plumage, and their calls resemble those of the Dusky Warbler. Interestingly, as we saw on the first day, we never found any Smoky Warblers joining the mixed-feeding flocks of other Phylloscopus.
While focusing on the Smoky Warbler, we heard a loud song followed by two trills. I immediately recognized it as the song of the Gray-sided Bush Warbler. We traced the sound and found one singing from the bushes, still vocalizing even in October. It was a lifer for Shuangqi and a different subspecies from that in Sichuan and Yunnan.
The other target of us, the Himalayan White-browed Rosefinch, made a few brief appearances, accompanied by its rapid” ga-ji-ji-ji-j” calls that seemed urgent. Compared to the Chinese White-browed Rosefinch, the male Himalayan White-browed Rosefinch is more vibrant red, while the female sports an orange chest, making it distinguishable. There were a few other common birds in that shrub region, like White-winged Redstart, Rufous-breasted Accentor, Dark-breasted Rosefinch, and Siberian Stonechat.
As we neared the summit, a series of loud, mournful calls broke the silence. Could it be an atypical call from Himalayan Snowcocks? Feeling a rush of excitement, I crouched low and carefully approached the source of the sound. I then saw several large shapes moving in the distant shrubs. A flock of snowcocks? I thought with a thrill.
Finally, I saw several white figures emerge, but something wasn’t right–they did not match the color of the Snowcock! Soon, I realized those were a flock of Blood Pheasants. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. Just then, a large white bird flew overhead but also turned out to be a Hen Harrier.
After thoroughly checking the shrub, we headed back a bit from the mountain pass and tried to search for a Himalayan Snowcock with my telescope along the ridgeline. We found many Upland Buzzards, Saker Falcons, Blood Pheasants, and Himalayan Monals, but there was still no Snowcock. When perching, the silhouette of the Upland Buzzards resembled Snowcock so much in all our cameras that we only revealed its identity by the telescope.
Spotting a herder on the hillside, Mr. Shi suggested asking him for help. He went uphill first. We stopped at the hill foot when Shuangqi showed me a bathing Himalayan Beautiful Rosefinch. Next to a brush region was a rocky stream down from the hill, and some stones just made an enclosure suitable for bathing birds. A song of the Himalayan White-browed Rosefinch echoed then. We then decided to wait here for the coming birds.
We heard rustling in the shrubs, and the shaking branches gradually drew closer. Soon enough, a female Himalayan White-browed Rosefinch appeared. It hopped into one of the pools, splashed around a bit, then returned to the bank to shake off the water. After repeating this a few times, it seemed satisfied and leisurely moved away. Shortly afterward, a male and another female appeared, taking turns at the water.
After the left of the rosefinches, a male Golden Bush-Robin visited the pool. But quickly, it returned to the bushes. Why the sudden retreat? A female Golden Bush-Robin revealed the answer. The male began to display, dashing back and forth, spreading its wings, and fanning its tail in a brief dance. The female opened her wings slightly in response. However, the courtship seemed to falter, and both birds left soon. I did not know they started courtship so early.
I checked the Phyllsocopus in the nearby shrub without any new findings. Jun reported a Little Forktail, which was entirely unexpected. We then met Mr. Shi, who was returning from the hill. Unfortunately, the herder couldn’t help us search for the Himalayan Snowcock. We had to rely on our own efforts.
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