Birdwatching and bliss in beautiful Bhutan

The carbon-negative Buddhist country is on the cusp of a tourism renaissance

Birdwatchers from all over the world travel to Bhutan because of its diversity of wildlife. Getty Images

I am crawling on all fours on a bund between emerald paddy fields in Punakha valley, Bhutan. Ahead is the Mo Chhu river. Perched on hillsides all around are Buddhist nunneries and monasteries, their prayer flags bringing to mind a Matisse print. This is Bhutan: Carbon negative and a pioneer in sustainable tourism.

What I am after is neither Zen nor spiritual but a hoopoe, a stunning bird that is linked to wisdom in Farid ud-Din Attar’s wonderful poem, The Conference of the Birds.

Birders come from all over the world to Bhutan for its abundance of wildlife. This tiny country, about the size of Switzerland, contains 774 species. In comparison, neighbouring India – nearly 10 times the size – has just 1,200 species.

As a birder, I, too, come to Bhutan bearing a “target list” of the species I want to see. Bhutan softens me though – changes my approach. Perhaps it is the beauty of the landscape, or the warmth of the people that nudge me to stay present instead of chasing targets.

Punakha valley is the new “it” spot in Bhutan these days, thanks to the just-opened Punakha River Lodge from luxury safari operator andBeyond – the latest to join Amankora, Como Uma Paro and Six Senses Bhutan in this picturesque region, which is a favourite among international celebrities including Christian Louboutin and Diane von Furstenberg.

As someone who loves luxury spas as much as lapwings (river ones or otherwise), I view Bhutan’s approach to high-end tourism with sanguinity.

So here I am, on a six-day trip through the region, alternating dawn birding with day massages. In between, I want to taste fiddlehead ferns, the expensive matsutake mushrooms that Japanese love, and meet a few monks. Maybe also learn a little archery while discovering how Druk Yul, or the Land of the Thunder Dragon, thinks about happiness. But, wait, is happiness measurable? Is sustainable luxury tourism, well, sustainable? I am here to find out.

Last month, Bhutan halved its Sustainable Development Fee – a daily tourist tariff currently at $100 – in a bid to attract more tourists. The Himalayan kingdom also opened its 400-kilometre trans-Bhutan hiking trail. Clearly, its economy needs tourism. But can it do so while maintaining its pristine ecosystem and prized cultural values?

Dorji Dhradhul seems to think so. As director-general of Bhutan’s tourism department, he says Bhutan continues to prioritise a “high value, low volume” policy that seeks to attract “discerning and mindful travellers” who can get a “meaningful and enriching experience”. They lowered their tourist fees, he says, to boost their economy post Covid-19.

As locals leave, tourists are needed. Across the kingdom, there is anxiety over what the Observer Research Foundation calls “a massive exodus” of young Bhutanese, who are migrating to Canada, Australia and other countries. They leave for the usual reasons: More pay, better education, easier life.

As the national paper Kuensal says, jump-starting the economy is the need of the hour. This is tricky because Bhutan has, so far, been cautious about balancing economic growth with conserving the environment and preserving culture – ideas that seem quaint and old-fashioned compared to “tiger economies” such as China and Korea.

“Bhutan could have gone the way of China,” says James Low, general manager of Como Uma Paro, who has spent 16 years in the country. “They could have cut down all their trees and built superhighways. But they have chosen to conserve and preserve.”

Will that change? Tshering Lhaden, Bhutan’s only female executive chef, hopes not. She is a contrarian, having returned to Bhutan after years abroad to take the reins in the kitchens at the sprawling Como hotel. I meet her at the one-acre in-house garden where she is picking lettuce, kale and beans for the evening’s dinner.

She tells me about Bhutan’s “no-drama” cuisine based on fresh ingredients. “Chilli is a must,” she says, referring to Ema Datshi, the national dish made with green and red chillies and cheese. I ask her why she returned home. To inspire and be inspired, she says. “Even if I inspire 10 people [to stay back, to become a chef], that matters.”

Bhutan is inspiring in ways both obvious and insidious. It seeps into your consciousness. If myth is the smoke of history, as writer John Keay said, then Bhutan, with its stories of flying sorcerers, supine demonesses and tiger-riding monks, is rich in culture and community.

I see this at the Amankora Thimphu, where Bhutan’s sacred and spectacular chham dances are performed, containing mudras (gestures) and symbols that, we are told, will dispel negative energy, bring good fortune and awaken the Buddha nature that lies within each of us.

That’s asking a lot from a performance, but Bhutanese firmly believe that watching these sacred dances during the tshechus, or festivals, bestows blessings, similar to the hanging of a thangka painting – a traditional Buddhist artwork – on your hearth.

All the dances have a primeval theme: The subjugation of evil (spirits, demons and ghosts) by good (masters, gurus, saints and heroes). All of this makes sense when you live in a country laden with whispering forests, mysterious streams, snakes and other wildlife.

Consider the legend of the “divine mad monk” who chased a demoness and buried her under a stupa, which stands today outside the Chimi Lhakhang fertility temple. The supernatural blends seamlessly into life in Bhutan.

Death is dealt with peacefully. The past is ever-present and actions are weighed against future karma. I think of this as I climb up to Paro’s Taktsang, or Tiger’s Nest monastery, on day two. Clinging spectacularly to the side of a cliff, it is renowned. After three hours, we stumble up and enter the temple – as brooding and light-filled as the mountains outside.

Full and spent, in heart and body respectively, I sit cross-legged on the stone floor and contemplate the compassionate Buddha. What is my learning in this heavenly land, I wonder? After some time, the answer rises like a blooming lotus, both simple and specific to me and my preoccupations.

I came to Bhutan to amass bird species, stack up numbers, really. Sitting in silence, surrounded by beauty, the futility of this effort dawns on me. Instead of chasing happiness, why not take whatever this mountain kingdom gives me?

This peace extends throughout my trip. I do go birdwatching but try to stay in the moment, enraptured by the natural beauty all around.

I end up seeing 60 spectacular birds in six days without even trying. Very Zen. Very Bhutan.