Close encounters on the wild side

While Lhasa is famous for its grand monasteries, one small nunnery is home to two jewels of the natural world. 

Tibet is a land of monasteries - Jokhang, Drepung, Gandan, Tsurphu and Samye. Many of these grand lamaseries are scattered in and around the autonomous region's capital of Lhasa. Qiongse (or Xiongse) Monastery is a forgotten jewel. It might lack the grand chanting halls and chortens, the Tibetan-style stupa, and the sacred relics, but the remote monastery is the place where two rare and beautiful birds - the Tibetan Eared Pheasant and Tibetan Snowcock - live in harmony with people.

As few Chinese are interested in seeing some birds in the wild, the temple has long been a well-kept secret known only to a few birdwatchers.

I'm one of them and I disclose the secret because after a recent visit to Qiongse, I found that you can admire these majestic birds without binoculars.

I chose the region's largest nunnery as my last destination during my trip to Tibet, because it is only 43 kilometers from Lhasa, on the Lhasa River, not far from the highway between Lhasa and Gonggar Airport.

In fact, a sign by the highway points to a side road and reads "Qiongse Monastery, 12 km". However, we encounter a problem when the car I hired turns onto the side road and after less than 50 meters comes to a closed bridge.

"It was damaged and abandoned earlier this year," a local Tibetan tells my driver.

To cross the river and reach the road, we have to make a detour and spend 40 minutes on a dusty road on the southern bank of the Lhasa River.

Finally we regain the side road winding toward the nunnery. It is narrow, but well-paved, climbing a broad but barren valley. We pass a small village surrounded by big juniper trees and patches of highland barley and slopes where bushes and grasses grow rampant. Ten minutes later, we reach the car park of Qiongse Monastery, which is 4,100 m above sea level and 500 m higher than the Lhasa River basin.

From the car park, I can see the Assembly Hall, a big white-washed chorten, small residential houses spread across the middle of the slope and a collection of prayer flags on the ridge. The buildings seem to be only a few hundred meters from the car park, probably less than 200 meters higher.

Following a zigzag trail I start my climb and soon realize how steep it is. Within 10 minutes, my heart is beating so quickly that I feel it will jump out of my throat. I have to slow my already slow pace and make a stop after every one or two turns.

It takes 40 minutes to climb the 200 m. I am not a person sensitive to changes in altitude, so a word of caution: Don't try this slope unless you're well acclimatized.

Although exhausting, the climb is never boring. Colorful songbirds chirp in the bushes and wild rabbits and Tibetan pikas feed on the slope and there are stunning views of the Lhasa River valley.

Although I do not find any trace of the two birds I have come to see, the other small animals are truly unafraid of people.

At the entrance to the village, which is home to more than 200 nuns, three nuns in purplish red robes are blowing long Tibetan trumpets. In front of a tiny mud hut, another young nun is sitting on stone steps basking in the heat of the morning sunshine.

"Hello, is it really possible to meet ye ji (wild pheasant) here?" I ask her.

"Shouji (mobile phone)? No signal here," she answers.

I decide to rely on myself.

Like many Tibetan monasteries, there is a kora, ritual circumambulation circuit, around the nunnery. Following the circuit, I walk to the rear of the village. Then I encounter a pair of Tibetan Eared Pheasants walking toward the slope behind the nunnery.

The turkey-sized bird, with a long blue tail, pink bill, red face and two erect white ear feathers, looks beautiful. More impressive is their reaction on seeing me approaching: They don't fly or run away, but keep walking, stopping every now and then to feed on tender leaves.

I follow and admire them till they disappear into the shrubbery.

Another encounter happens at the entrance of the village when I have almost finished my visit. When passing the last residential building, I suddenly see two hen-sized birds standing quietly under the shadow of the house.

Hens? No, the birds have a white collar, like a hen with a heavy scarf worn around the neck, and look chubby and cute. They are Snowcock, a bird known for living above the snowline in Tibet!

I approach them and try to catch a closer look. I'm two meters away and they don't move. One meter away, they make a few "warning" calls. That's enough. I have a quick but intoxicating photo session and then retreat.

They were still there when I left the Qiongse Monastery.