… And suddenly I become responsible for absolutely everything. For weeks, I fly tirelessly through the forests of Yala searching for food. Fruit makes up most of our diet and every day I return to the nest cavity with my bill loaded like a flying grocery cart. But when I pass fruit to my mate, who remains safely tucked away inside, she never seems impressed by the effort involved. "More figs!" she calls. More figs?! I've already crossed half the park collecting figs! Still, I dutifully head back out. Eventually the chicks hatch, which is wonderful news for everyone… except me. The tiny creatures possess astonishing appetites. Suddenly, one hungry mouth becomes three or four hungry mouths, all demanding deliveries at regular intervals. So, from sunrise to sunset, I become Yala's busiest meal delivery service. Of course, all those figs serve another purpose. Seeds pass through our digestive systems and end up scattered across the forest. Many of the trees around us owe their existence to generations of hornbills carrying fruit from one corner of the park to another. We don't usually brag about it, but we're among the forest's most effective gardeners. Not bad for a bird whose singing is constantly criticised eh? So, if you're exploring Yala and hear a series of strange clucks, honks and brays echoing through the treetops, don't be alarmed. It's probably just me returning with another delivery of figs. Or explaining to my mate that I have already made fourteen trips this morning. In my experience, those two conversations sound remarkably similar.

This treetop portrait was captured by a Mahoora Naturalist near the Mahoora Tented Safari Camp in Yala. Perched in the morning light, the Malabar Pied Hornbill seemed perfectly content to survey the surrounding forest while keeping a watchful eye on potential feeding opportunities.