Birding in South Vietnam
- devanandpaul
- Apr 28
- 8 min read
After birding in Thailand, Indonesia, and Malaysia, I found myself drawn to Vietnam, the next stop in my Southeast Asian exploration. The country was promising with its misty mountains, winding rivers, and rich wetlands. It is home to over 900 bird species, but what truly excited me was the rare ones: 12 found only in Vietnam, 25 mostly seen here and in nearby countries, and 9 subspecies exclusive to this place.
Unlike in island regions like Borneo or the Philippines, Vietnam’s bird diversity does not come from being isolated. Instead, it is shaped by the topography (tall mountains, thick forests) and changing climates, which created natural boundaries and enabled the evolution of many unique species over time.
To explore Vietnam’s birdlife, I split my journey into two parts: South Vietnam and the Central Highlands. This blog post is about the southern part. In the next one I will take you to the Central Highlands.
The Team
I travelled with Arka Sarkar, an experienced birding guide, and his local assistant Le Duy. We were a group of six: Latha, Bupesh, Chaula, Sheila, Aarti, and me—all from different backgrounds but united by our love for birds and nature.
Towards Dong Nai Nature Reserve
As we drove out of Ho Chi Minh City at dawn, the traffic and noise slowly faded, replaced with wide green fields and forested patches. The 3-hour journey passed quickly, filled with bird talk, laughter, and stories from previous trips.
Along the way, Arka told us about the Dong Nai Nature Reserve—that it had once been a logging site, but in 1997, efforts to transform the place into a protected wildlife area began. During the Vietnam War, this area served as a Vietcong base. One can still see here some of the wartime tunnels and shelters.
Now, the reserve is vibrant with bamboo groves, dense forests, and wetlands. Two bird hides, carefully placed and well-maintained, made it the perfect place to begin our birding adventure.
Arrival at Dong Nai
We reached Dong Nai by mid-morning.
Without wasting time, we slipped quietly into the first hide, eyes sharp and hearts full of anticipation.
The forest was quiet, as if it was holding its breath.
Then, out of the stillness, our first bird appeared.
A Jewel Among Leaves
A blue-rumped pitta hopped onto the forest floor. At first, it blended with the leaves, but when it turned, the bright blue on its back caught the light, shimmering like a hidden gem. What a way to start the day!
The Forest Awakens
Soon, the forest came alive. A common flameback flew in, its red head and golden back standing out.
Moments later, a pair of laced woodpeckers followed. They took turns tapping on the trees, their soft drumming echoing through the woods.
Then, something magical appeared—a silver-breasted broadbill.
Its feathers looked hand-painted in soft shades of silver, blue, and peach. It hopped from branch to branch with quiet grace.
A Parade in the Canopy
As we watched the canopy in awe, a greater racket-tailed drongo swept past, its long, ribbon-like tail trailing behind. A racket-tailed treepie followed close, its glossy black feathers catching the sunlight.
Whisperings Below
Leaves rustled gently as small birds—scaly-crowned, puff-throated, and buff-breasted babblers—scampered through the undergrowth.
The scaly-crowned babblers looked alert. The puff-throated ones have chests puffed out sometimes; they chirped as they rummaged the ground. The buff-breasted babblers blended with the forest floor as they moved quietly.
Voices of the Wild
Then, a song rang out—clear and confident. A white-rumped shama stood proudly on a branch, its tail flicking with every note. It sang like it owned the forest.
In the undergrowth, two bright flashes zipped through the bushes—Hainan blue and Indochinese blue flycatchers were chasing each other in play.
A white-crested laughingthrush burst into view, gave us a quick glance, and disappeared just as fast.
Glimmers in the Green
An orange-headed thrush stepped into a beam of light. It stood still for a moment—glowing in the light—before disappearing.
A flicker of iridescent green caught my eye—a blue-winged leafbird, alert and agile, was darting from branch to branch, its plumage shining with each movement. Not far behind, a female white-throated rock thrush fluttered into view—less showy than the male, yet graceful in her muted browns and buffs.
Then came a rare treat—a banded kingfisher landed just outside our hide. It perched silently, regal and still, then slipped away into the foliage like a whisper.
The Grand Finale
We moved between hides through the day, guided by Duy’s deep knowledge of the forest. Every new spot brought fresh sightings.
After lunch came the moment we had all been hoping for—the Siamese fireback, Vietnam’s national bird. It stepped into view slowly, its deep blue plumage shimmering, its red face bright with life. A stunning spectacle!
Onward to Cat Tien
By 3:00 p.m., Arka smilingly drew our attention. ‘We’ve seen all our targets,’ he said. ‘Time to move.’
We packed up and hit the road again, bound for Cat Tien National Park, a 3-hour drive through southern Vietnam. Our spirits were high.
A Change of Plan
As we drove, Arka turned to us and said, ‘A quick change in plan. We’ll spend three days at Cat Tien instead of two, and one less at Deo Nui San.’
He explained why: ‘Hunting at Deo Nui San has increased. Duy’s been watching the area—bird numbers are down. The birds are just too wary now.’
That sparked a sobering chat about Vietnam’s long connection with birds.
The Shadow of Tradition
For generations, wild birds have been part of everyday life in Vietnam—caught for food or kept as pets. Bigger birds, like doves and partridges, are hunted for meat. Smaller, colourful ones, like sunbirds and leafbirds, are trapped and sold in markets. Singing bulbuls in cages are a common sight. Hence, birds are more wary here than in other places, and birdwatching is not just a walk with binoculars. You need patience—and hides. Almost 60 per cent of sightings happen from them.
Arrival at Cat Tien National Park
We reached Cat Tien just before sunset and checked into Green Bamboo Lodge, right by the Dong Nai River. Being a weekend, the place buzzed with music, laughter, and dancing.
Our trip had only just begun, but it had already gifted us unforgettable moments.
Mornings on the Dong Nai River
Every morning at Cat Tien began the same way—a short boat ride across the river. As mist curled over the water and the engine hummed, the jungle along the bank stirred slowly to life. And then, like a secret greeting, came the eerie, echoing calls of yellow-cheeked gibbons. It was as if the forest itself welcomed us with wild music.
Spirits in the Shadows
For three magical days we wandered the trails and waited quietly in camouflaged hides, listening, watching, hoping.
From one such hide we saw something unforgettable—Germain’s peacock-pheasant. Not once, but twice it graced us with its presence. It moved slowly across the forest floor—dark and dappled, its plumage flecked with what looked like shining gems—and stood still awhile, then slipped silently back into the undergrowth. We didn’t dare move. It was like seeing a spirit of the forest.
The orange-necked partridge teased us from the shadows. Its calls echoed nearby—close enough to feel its presence—but it never showed up.
A Forest That Never Sleeps
The forest was alive with sound and motion. Zebra doves cooed in the distance. Black-and-red broadbills zipped through the trees, their plumage catching the light. Overhead, ashy, bronzed, and greater racket-tailed drongos danced mid-air in pursuit of insects. The ashy drongo here, I noticed, wear a paler grey, compared with those I had seen in India.
On the ground, flocks of white-crested and lesser necklaced laughingthrushes rustled through dry leaves.
A Parade of Songbirds
Songbirds passed by like a parade: Siberian blue robins were seen flicking their tails, streak-eared and stripe-throated bulbuls zipped between branches, and pin-striped tit-babblers moved like quick whispers through the bushes. We also spotted puff-throated and buff-breasted babblers, half-hidden in the leaf litter.
Jewels in the Green
The second day in Cat Tien brought more surprises. From the quiet of another hide, we saw a scaly-breasted partridge creeping past—well-camouflaged, alert, and gone in a blink.
Then, like jewels tossed into the forest, a pair of bar-bellied pitta appeared. Green and gold, blue and black—their feathers glowed. They paused just long enough for us to fall in love with them, then vanished.
The Flame and the Watcher
An ochraceous bulbul fluttered nearby. And then, thanks to Duy’s sharp eyes, we spotted an orange-breasted trogon perched like a flame in the greenery. Still and silent, it watched us as we watched it.
Birding on foot was trickier. The light shifted constantly, trails had thick foliage, and birds were cautious. So every sighting felt like a prize.
Royal Sightings in the Grasslands
On our final morning in Cat Tien, we visited the open grasslands. That is where the green peafowl made its appearance. It stepped into the sunlight, its emerald and sapphire feathers trailing behind like the train of a royal robe. It was magical.
High on a tree, a thick-billed green pigeon rested. Nearby, Indochinese cuckooshrikes darted through the sky, accompanied by the music of golden-crested and vinous-breasted mynas.
Time to Move
Then Arka signalled that it was time for us to head to our next location—Deo Nui San Pass. We returned to the lodge, packed quickly, and hit the road.
Arrival at Deo Nui San Pass
We lunched on the way and reached Deo Nui San Pass by afternoon.
From the main road, a narrow path led us down into the forest and straight to a hide. We settled down and waited.
Forest Stars Take the Stage
The first bird to arrive was a large niltava female, glowing in the filtered light. Then came a Siberian blue robin, again, flitting like a tiny spark.
And then, like a carnival on trees, three Indochinese green magpies dropped in. Their green and yellow bodies flashed, their red wings flared, and their ruby eyes scanned the scene with cheeky confidence. They strutted as if they owned the place.
A Rare Jewel Steps Out
From the shadows, a blue pitta stepped into view. This one was special—unlike the yellow-bellied type from Thailand or Malaysia, it has a rich orange belly, seen only in Vietnam, Laos, and eastern Cambodia. Some say it is a different subspecies altogether. It stood still, glowing, then disappeared into the green.
Next came two bar-backed partridges. They crept like whispers across the leaf litter, dressed in chestnut and black, then vanished into the forest.
Soon, Arka grinned. ‘That’s it. We’ve finished all the targets from the hide.’
A Final Roadside Stroll
We left the hide and walked slowly along the roadside, scanning the canopy for a few last-minute sightings of the day.
High up, far in the distance, a black-winged cuckooshrike perched briefly before darting away.
A moment later, we spotted an Indochinese barbet sitting quietly on a dry branch, its colours vivid against a bare branch.
A little ahead, a flavescent bulbul perched low, its pale plumage almost blending with the leaves.
And then, like two streaks of lightning, white-throated needletails (large swifts) tore across the sky above us.
End of Another Day, Start of a New Chapter
The sun was sinking. The sky dimmed, and so did the calls of the forest.
After a long, satisfying day of birding, it was time to head back to our hotel.
As we drove, Arka turned, smiling. ‘Tomorrow we head to Central Vietnam,’ he said. ‘Cooler weather, mountain forests, and a whole new set of birds. Everything will be different. Get ready.’
And thus the next chapter of our birding waited—beyond the hills, beyond the trees, a place where cool winds of the highlands were already whispering our names.
The adventure to be continued in the next blog post.
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Outstanding pictures. As usual your blogs are a treat to read and the photos bring the text alive
Mindblowing pictures and excellent trip report ❤️❤️
Incredible visuals and wonderful narrative, thanks a lot for sharing 😀 ❤
Words fail me! What an amazing variety and beauty!!
Beautifully captured... Both visually and verbally.