When I think about the Tokhü Emong Bird Count (TEBC), my mind immediately drifts back to my childhood in Dimapur, Nagaland. Growing up, I was surrounded by the sights and sounds of nature—towering forests, chirping of birds, and rustling of leaves in the wind. Back then, it was just part of everyday life, and I did not fully appreciate how deeply connected we were to these elements. Over the years, I have come to realise how intertwined these forests, birds, and our culture are, and we stand to lose if we do not actively protect and steward them.
One of my earliest and fondest memories is sitting with my grandfather, Yilao Odyuo, who would often visit us from Lotsu village in Wokha district. He would tell us stories about the forests around our village and how the birds signalled the changing seasons—how their songs foretold the rains and the time to sow seeds. It felt as if the birds spoke a language our ancestors understood. Those stories stuck with me. They were not just about birds; they were about a way of life, a relationship with nature built on respect and care.
Fast forward to today, as I work with the Foundation for Ecological Security (FES) and organise the TEBC, I realise how much those early lessons shaped my perspective. For me, the TEBC is more than an event to count bird species—it is a way of honouring that connection our grandparents and our communities had with nature. When we count birds, we are, in a sense, counting the health of our environment.
The first time I participated in the TEBC, I felt that connection strongly. Walking through the forest with birdwatchers—some experienced, others like me, still learning—the air was filled with bird calls I had never truly noticed before. There was something humbling about standing in silence, waiting for a glimpse of a bird that might otherwise go unnoticed. Each sighting felt like rediscovering a forgotten part of myself. Each bird species had their special call different from others.
A moment I will never forget is when I was guiding a group of young participants from schools. They were city kids, more interested in their phones than the nature around them. But as the day went on, something changed. One of them spotted a black-naped oriole, and suddenly, all distractions fell away. The kids were captivated not just by the bird itself, but by the realisation that such beauty existed right in their backyard. That moment felt like a small but meaningful victory—a step closer to reconnecting with nature. Last year, we documented over 200 avian species in Nagaland within four days, and students from 20 schools joined us. This year, we hope more students participate in venturing out into our forests to witness this diversity and commit to a deeper relationship with the ecology around us.
My TEBC experiences have taught me that this is not just about birdwatching; it is about people. It is about rediscovering our place in the ecosystem. In today’s fast-paced world, it is easy to forget the quiet wisdom of the forests and the creatures that live within them. TEBC offers a moment to pause, step back, and remember that our well-being is inseparable from the health of the environment around us.
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In Naga culture, there is a deep reverence for the land and its creatures. Our stories, songs, and traditions are filled with references to birds, animals, and plants. But that connection is fading, especially among younger generations. Through TEBC, I hope we can reignite that connection. By counting birds, I hope people will begin to see the world around them differently. Over 50% of our state is covered with forests classified within six different typographies. They house almost 500 species of birds, 248 edible fruits, and 128 wild vegetables. Nagaland has much more biodiversity than we can fathom. I hope we collectively understand, once again, that every tree, river, bird, and mushroom is part of a larger web of life that sustains us all.
Professionally, working with FES has reinforced this belief. My role involves collaborating with communities across Nagaland to strengthen local institutions and empower them to manage their natural resources. The challenges we face—climate change, habitat loss, and unsustainable practices—are immense. That is why initiatives like the TEBC are very important. They remind us of what is at stake and give us a tangible way to contribute to conservation.
As we prepare for the third edition of TEBC, I am filled with hope. I have seen first-hand how this bird count has sparked conversations about conservation and inspired both young and old to take an active role in protecting our natural heritage. Whether you are an experienced birder or someone who has never picked up a pair of binoculars, I encourage you to participate. You will be surprised by what you discover—not just about the birds, but about yourself and the world we live in.
The TEBC is a reminder that we are not separate from nature. We are a part of it, and our future depends on how well we care for it. As we count the birds, we are also counting our blessings—the blessings of clean air, fresh water, and a thriving ecosystem. Let us ensure that future generations can continue to enjoy those blessings, just as our ancestors did.
Chenibemo Odyuo is a Senior Project Manager at the Foundation for Ecological Security, Nagaland, where he focuses on community-led governance of natural resources and biodiversity conservation.
Tokhü Emong Bird Count 2024 will be organised from 4-7 November 2024 in all districts of Nagaland.
