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Bird’s
nest soup spices up property market in Malaysia
Penang, April 30:
MALAYSIANS are kitting out old buildings with stereo systems, humidifiers
that emit cooling mists and rustic fittings — all to attract guests
whose spit is their most valuable attribute.
The white-nest swift uses its saliva to
string together a tiny gauze-like nest perched in often inaccessible
spots. Gathered at great risk, they form the chief ingredient of
the wildly popular Chinese delicacy, bird’s nest soup. Now, entrepreneurs
are luring the birds to old buildings in urban areas, making it
easier to harvest the nests and take them to market — and rake in
the profits.
And in doing so, they have triggered a property
boom. Traditionally, men tracked the birds to their isolated caves
and climbed bamboo poles to knock the nests off the walls.
But entrepreneurs have found that the swift,
a relative of the humming bird, can be enticed to nest in urban
buildings. Recently, more than 400 people flocked to a one-day national
workshop on how to make birdhouses swift-friendly, more than twice
the number organisers had expected.
John Chen owns a row of three shop houses
in Sitiawan, whose upper floors and backrooms are home to swifts.
Chen is one of the few operators who will let outsiders into his
houses but he won’t talk profits. The birdhouse is dim, with the
pungent smell of droppings. Dozens of swifts wheel in and out through
a two-foot square hole high in the wall. The birds navigate with
sound waves bounced off walls and crevices, so the air is filled
with the clicks of flyers along with the peeps of the chicks.
Rows of white nests, like half-moon-shaped
balconies, jut from thin, wooden planks attached to the ceiling.
The birds are encouraged to nest on the wood because the nests can
be removed more cleanly than from the building’s original cement
walls, says Chen, president of Malaysia Bird’s Nest Merchants Association.
Adult birds can spend up to two months
slowly building the nests with their saliva. Once the babies leave,
the nests are collected, processed in local factories to remove
feathers and other debris, and packaged for sale. About half of
Malaysia’s nests are consumed at home. The rest are exported, mainly
to Hong Kong and Singapore, Chen says. The soup may be low on nutrients
but is popularly credited with clearing up women’s complexions and
flushing out the male digestive system. A 150-gm box of superior
nests — about 30 pieces — on display at the workshop was priced
at $ 1,316. Restaurants sell a bowl of the elixir for about $21.
Those prices have encouraged hundreds to
launch bird businesses in the past two years, sending real estate
in small towns soaring. The prices of Taiping’s vacant shop houses
— two-storeyed buildings designed for retail trade on the ground
floor with living quarters above — doubled in 2000 to $ 65,789,
a local real estate agent told Reuters last year. The cost of a
shop house in the town of Sitiawan jumped to $ 92,105 in 2000 from
$ 65,789 in 1999, birdhouse owner Ling Jeng Chai says. Since he
set up his first house — ‘‘as a hobby’’ — over two years ago, the
number of birdhouses has soared to 300 from 20.
Builders may spend over $ 10,000 to renovate
a property. But neighbours in many towns have complained about the
smell, droppings and the 24-hour recorded chirping many owners play
to attract feathered tenants. ‘‘These bird’s nests problems are
one of the major items on our agenda every month,’’ says Mohammad
Pilus Mohammad Noor, councillor for Seberang Prai, a Penang municipality.
‘‘Most of the birdhouses are sandwiched
by residential units. That’s where the problem comes up.’’ Rearing
swifts is still technically illegal but like many councils, Seberang
Prai recognises that swifts are fast becoming big business, says
Mohammad Pilus. ‘‘We try to close one eye and let it happen.’’
Malaysia is prepared to remove the swiftlets’
‘‘totally protected’’ status because it believes the birdhouse business
will boost the bird population, Misliah Mohammad Basri, director
of the wildlife department’s Penang office, said.
‘‘Every morning, the birds come out of the
house, circle around and fly off to forage. They always go in the
same direction. You watch,’’ says Lim, an engineer. ‘‘If you can
follow them to where they forage and build your house there, you’ve
got it made.’’ (REUTERS)
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