Malaysia

This article was pubished in Jersey Illustrated, vol 2, no 9, undated, probably 1972

We stayed in Penang only long enough to have the van serviced and replenish our equipment before crossing on the ferry and driving to Kuala Lumpur, where we had decided to base ourselves, confining our activities to a rough eighty mile radius of the city. This, we knew, was the most prolific area throughout the Peninsula, and would reap the best rewards during our limited stay. We planned, also, a trip to the Langkawi Islands, off the North West coast, and a few days in the extreme North on the borders of Malaysia and Thailand.

We made one trip up Penang Hill in the cable railway, with our nets. In fact, our first “catch” was engineered by Peter, who, having absolutely no inhibitions about appearing ridiculous in public, lent out of the window and scooped it up in his net as we trundled upwards. Our decision to walk down and see what we could find on the way was a mistake. It was a five mile trek and all I collected was a crop of blisters and some very stiff muscles. It made an excuse, however, to spend the following day lying on one of Penang’s golden beaches, swimming and soaking up the sun.

We had with us an introduction to a Rubber Planter, a keen collector himself, and detailed information as to the tracks we should explore. The help from both these sources was invaluable, as without it we would have wasted precious time groping in the dark. Although Malaysia abounds with glorious butterflies, they tend to be very localised, frequenting one spot in their thousands, while ignoring what would appear to be an identical place nearby.

Water is usually essential, and, contrary to the British butterfly, which flits delicately from flower to flower, the Malaysian insect has disgusting habits. Some, admittedly, do settle on blossoms, and one learns which type of tree attracts the various species. Most of them, however, infinitely prefer animal excreta, rotting carcasses, or bad prawns, while another genus can easily be captured, very drunk, on over-ripe pineapple. So the collector takes his bait along with him, and returns later to see what it has collected. So, also, he requires a track, preferably near a stream, which is frequented by jungle animals during the night prowl, always trusting that by 10.0 a.m., when the butterflies are beginning to fly, that the animals will have retired.

Hazards of Hunting

The Malaysian jungle must be treated with a certain degree of respect – the least of one’s worries being leeches and the worst, snakes. Panther and tiger will leave you alone, unless you are exceptionally unlucky, and the monkeys chatter harmlessly in the trees. “Seladang” – a type of wild buffalo, with immense horns, and probably the fiercest of all Malaysian animals, is a creature to avoid, as it will attack unprovoked if encountered (which mercifully is rare). However, at any recent sign of elephant, and even the most hardened “jungle-basher” will beat a hasty retreat.

We usually spent three or four days combing one district, before returning to friends for a bath, and preparing for the next onslaught. We set off each time with our rotting pineapple, and – hanging on the outside of the van door – our bag of bad prawns. As long as we kept driving, the smell eluded us, but I think we left our mark for some time, en route, as we drove along.

Most of our butterfly hunting took place down sunny tracks where we could park the van, lay our bait at odd intervals along the path, and watch for the Butterflies to emerge from the jungle on one side, fly in the sun for a while, before, probably, disappearing into the undergrowth on the other side. Some Butterflies float by slowly and are relatively simple to catch; others disappear into the distance at a most incredible speed, and we soon learnt that it was hopeless to give chase. Others will employ teasing tactics, settling on the path until your net is poised for action, at which point they vanish, only to reappear nearby, and the same performance is repeated. At all times we wore clothes which blended with our background, but this did not always deceive them. From these sunny tracks we made sorties into deeper jungle to hunt those species which prefer to remain among the leaves and do not seek the sun.

The Elusive Insect

Periodically we would inspect our bait to see what each evil smelling pile had collected. Within a very short space of time the butterflies nosed out the delicacies we had prepared for them; and it was necessary only to place one’s net over the prawns, select the specimens required, allowing the others to go free. We caught most of our valued butterflies on prawns, one in particular we treasure above all. There are very few known ever to have been captured, and only in this particular area. It is not outstanding for its beauty, but is rare, and so, to the collector, far more precious than its more spectacular, but commoner, brothers.

By day we knew we were reasonably safe, keeping a weather eye open, but we were more cautious at night, taking care not to park deep in the jungle. We usually camped near a stream, which enabled us to have a dip after a hot and sweaty day, and to rinse through our clothes (which dried in the sun the following day). before cooking supper and turning the light out early in self-defence against the many insects which plagued us constantly. Mosquitos were our main worry, and these we combatted with smoking coils which burnt through the night, giving out a not unpleasant smell of incense, and, on the whole, proving very effective.

A Peaceful Hideout

We had one camping spot to which we became particularly attached, returning again and again to it, even if, at the end of the day, we were a long way away. We both felt secure there, and it was incredibly peaceful, with a deep pool in the stream for our nightly dip, and the sound of the water to lull us off to sleep. Most butterflies cease to fly about 4.0 p.m., so we hurried back each day to deal with the day’s catch before the light went. This involved pinning out the specimens on cork boards which we had made and brought with us; and these were then slid into grooved boxes, where they remained immovable even when we were driving. With this method, and crystals to keep the termites away, we had very few casualties. The specimens we had not room for on the boards were kept in the triangular envelopes in which we had originally placed them on capture, and stored in an airtight tin to be dealt with on our return home.

During our time in this vicinity we visited the Rubber Plantation, where we received a royal welcome, and made several interesting excursions into new areas. Our new friends had fantastic collections, and it was at this point that we realised how limited was our own knowledge. We not only had one of the most enjoyable and profitable weeks of our whole trip, but also learnt a tremendous amount about our hobby into the bargain. Our joint excursions into the jungle were conducted in a most gentlemanly manner, accompanied by bottles of wine – white for the ladies and red for the gentlemen – which we consumed with our sandwiches, usually at an advanced hour when the butterflies were dwindling. After this everyone’s reactions were somewhat slowed up, and the last hour of hunting was accompanied by a series of unprintable words which echoed through the jungle, scattering the monkeys and birds, and advertising the fact that yet another of us had taken a swipe at something coveted – and missed.

We were fortunate with the weather – certainly while we remained on the plains. The odd rainy day was irritating, but the jungle is a fascinating place, whether the butterflies are flying or not, even to the fanatical collector. It can hardly be described as quiet, as, from dawn to dusk, the cicadas send forth their piercing and continuous screech, but one eventually hardly hears this, only noticing the quietness when it ceases; There is an abundance of beautiful birds which soar overhead, leaving flashes of colour in their wake, some with amazing wing-spans, others with unbelievably trailing tail-feathers. Above all, there is a wonderful sense of peace. So, we were never bored. There was always something to look at, and, to the ever-optimistic lepidopterist, the hope that the sun might come through.

Selangor’s Mountain Resorts

We made one visit up Fraser’s Hill, in the State of Selangor, a popular and cool holiday resort. Our main objective was one of the peaks, about 6000 feet up, called Jeriau. As we were already 5000 feet up, having driven to the Hill Station in the van, we did not have far to climb, but the track up Jeriau is little used, and very overgrown, as it has nothing to offer the holiday maker. The climb is steep and slippery, and we went armed with a “Parang” – a Malay knife – both for cutting away the undergrowth, and, for possible self-protection. On the summit we knew we should catch many species that are found nowhere else in Malaysia. This is true of many of the individual peaks, but Jeriau, we were told, held more promise than most. So it proved, for one hour, after which the heavens opened, and when it became apparent that we were doomed for the rest of the day, we trailed, wet and cold, down our slippery track, and headed for a hot cup of coffee in the Dormobile. Our hour, however, brought us a wealth of new material, and although we did not have the opportunity of making the ascent again, our short visit was worth every minute. On the top of Jeriau is our parang, which I hope some other collector has found, and made use of!

We were now beginning to work slowly North, and our next objective was the foothills of the Cameron Highlands. Here we were after the female of one particular species, the famous Rajah Brooke’s Birdwing. The male is one of the most spectacular of all Malayan butterflies, being jet black, with emerald green feather patterns on the wings. In flight it can easily be mistaken for a bird. In its own limited area, the male is very common, but the female is rare, seldom seen, and then invariably at tree-top level, and out of reach of the longest net. We knew one spot, however, where females were known to appear about 4.0 p.m., flying low, and there we lay in ambush, prepared to wait indefinitely, until we achieved one of these coveted, and very beautiful, butterflies. We stayed there three days and nights, camping in the grounds of a disused house where there was a convenient garden tap for washing, and triumphantly caught two females. Content with this, we journeyed North for what we felt was to be the most interesting and rewarding part of our expedition.

The Langkawi Islands

We now headed for the Langkawi Islands. Leaving the van outside the Police Station at Kuala Perlis, a Malay fishing village, we embarked in a small boat, together with a collection of chickens, ducks, pigs and pineapples, for the three hour journey across. A large notice, in several languages, respectfully requested us to note that if we were not in possession of a ticket when the collector came round we should be asked to leave the boat immediately. As the collector did not put in an appearance until we were in mid-ocean, this presented possible interesting diversions.

In the Langkawi Islands, and on the Thai/Malay border, which was our final objective, we knew we should find many different species and sub-species, as well as those of the same species found further South, but varying in size and colouring due to their different habitat, all of which has an immense interest to the collector. In our short spell, these two areas brought forth the best accumulation of new additions to our collection.

We arrived in Langkawi during the rainy season, but Fate was on our side, as indeed it had been throughout our entire trip, and the sun shone for the duration of our stay. We stayed in the Resthouse, and travelled round in the only available car, hired out by the fishmonger. This was self-evident, judging by the aroma we carried about with us. The car had seen better days – the hand-brake did not work amongst other things, and the clutch finally gave out altogether, but it served its purpose. The Islands are noted for their beauty, and again are favourite holiday places. We did not have time to explore, confining our five days to the butterflying areas, with a lot of new material to gloat over, and a memorable visit to look back on.

Our last week was spent on the border between Malaya and Thailand. Time was running short and in a few days’ time we had to return to Penang to embark for Madras in the same Ship in which we had come over. We found a track near a Malay kampong, or village, and here we parked, to the intense interest of the villagers, most of whom we treated for sore throats, coughs, headaches, and various ailments amongst the children. In return, they provided us with limes with which we made ourselves the most refreshing drink in the world. They were very friendly, though their Malay was hard to understand, differing quite considerably from that spoken in the South. Again, we added greatly to our collection in this district.

Sadly we started back for Penang. We had achieved most of what we had set out to do, captured nearly all the particular butterflies we had on our agenda, and many more than we had expected to find in general. Some, nevertheless had still. eluded us, and one we particularly mourned was the “Calydonia” – spectacular and uncommon, and with a name which speaks for itself, as its underside would happily cover the nakedness of a Scotsman. We travelled slowly back, savouring the jungle sounds and smells, and  enjoying to the last the peace of the countryside, before returning to the hustle of civilisation and our return trip.