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WHEN THE HERONS COME BACK TO PETULU...


One afternoon, Lisa and Ann headed north of Ubud, Bali to see what had been recommended to us as a not-to-be-missed sight-- thousands of herons returning to the village of Petulu to roost for the night. What had been anticipated as a touristy experience became a memorable afternoon.
Local legend is that there were no herons near Petulu until one afternoon in
the fall of 1965. On September 30, 1965, an attempted communist coup led to
the downfall of founding Indonesian president Sukarno and the emergence of General Suharto, who ended the coup.

Afterwards, the communist party was outlawed, and an anti-communist witch hunt swept over the nation. In Bali, the national political differences were bound up with existing tensions over the caste system and land reform.

Religious traditionalists led the search for communists, and many people were brutally murdered, often clubbed to death by mobs. Exactly one week after one of the worst of the massacres, thousands of white herons, said to be the souls of the slaughtered, appeared in Petulu, where no herons had been seen before. They have been coming every afternoon since.

We had been told that the birds arrived at four, so we hired a driver and
headed to Petulu at 3:30. On the way, our driver wondered aloud why we were going to Petulu so early, as the "burung" didn't arrive until five each day. No problem, we thought, we'll just find a spot for a cold drink.

Arriving in Petulu, we walked cautiously down the main road, noting the
profusion of feathers and bird droppings, knowing we were in the right place, but wondering where we would find that cold drink...

At the far end of the village, we spied a tiny store, and perched on a bench outside to drink some tepid cokes. We soon learned with dismay that the birds were expected at six, and we had two hours on this bench. Our boredom was soon eased by the appearance of a bottle of arak, distilled palm wine. We spent the next two hours sharing the local firewater with each other and a young villager while watching the storeowner make her palm offering trays for the next day and her children play with empty soda bottles.

As the afternoon waned, the daily return of the tourists to Petulu began, by the bemo-full. (A bemo is a local form of transport, usually a minivan.) And at six, the herons began to arrive, first a few at a time, then by the score.
The flow of herons became constant and the chatter of the tourists ceded to
the chatter of the birds. As the sun set, the trees of Petulu were white. It
had been worth the wait-- and the arak.

     
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