By Ditro Wibisono Wardi Parikesit and Douglas Sheil, 3rd July 2026
Bali, often referred to as the ‘Island of the Gods’, is one of the world’s most popular tourist destinations, yet the island offers far more than luxurious villas, beautiful beaches and vibrant nightlife.
In Tabanan Regency lies the Besikalung Wildlife Sanctuary, the last refuge for wildlife in this mixed landscape. Traffic hums along the roads. Motorbikes weave between rice terraces that cascade down steep hillsides. Chicken farms operate alongside family compounds. This is modern Bali—bustling, practical and getting on with life. And across this landscape, one of the world’s rarest birds nests in a network of nest boxes. Here, the last surviving species endemic to Bali since the Bali tiger’s extinction in 1937, it survives quietly, defying expectations.
Besikalung Wildlife Sanctuary’s landscape is filled with rice terraces and lies at the foot of Mount Batukaru, Mount Sanghyang and Mount Adeng. Several other plant species are grown alongside the rice fields, creating an intercropping system referred to as ‘tumpeng sari’. Photo: Ditro Wibisono Wardi Parikesit.
The Bali starling Leucopsar rothschildi, with its striking white plumage and distinctive blue eye-mask, had declined to just six individuals in the wild by 2001 due to excessive poaching for illegal trade. Everything we knew about the species suggested it thrives in dry, lowland forests—the kind found in West Bali National Park, its last natural stronghold. By contrast, the humid and highland Besikalung Wildlife Sanctuary seemed an unlikely refuge for Bali’s last endemic species. But conservation isn’t just about habitat suitability scores and climate—sometimes it’s about people, beliefs and a centuries-old understanding of how humans should live alongside nature.
As we examined nest boxes across Babahan Village, a pattern emerged. Areas of tebe, a Balinese term for ‘mixed garden’ (an open area used for cultivation of various fruit and vegetables and often for managing organic waste), hosted the most successful starling nests, with half the nest boxes occupied. The birds were adapting in unexpected ways, feeding on magnolia fruits, taking advantage of permanent water sources and even sampling religious offerings left at household shrines. I asked local staff whether Bali starlings could forage on their daily offerings—they confirmed that the offerings are made for niskala (the unseen), which refers to those living in the spiritual world that we cannot see.
Bali starling taking a bath in a water basket. Photo: Ditro Wibisono Wardi Parikesit.
Bali starling feeding on canang (religious offerings), which are made by Balinese people as a daily offering after praying. Photo: Ditro Wibisono Wardi Parikesit.
But the real story unfolded in conversations with village leaders. The village head explained how the community had enacted awig-awig—indigenous Balinese law—to protect the Bali starlings. For outsiders, it might sound simply like local regulation, but for the Balinese it’s much more profound. Awig-awig binds both physical and spiritual planes, gaining its sacred power from the Pasupati sacralisation ritual. In Balinese Hindu belief, violations of awig-awig will affect one’s karma. When the indigenous leader calls upon awig-awig to protect the starlings, he’s reaching deep into the Balinese philosophy of Tri Hita Karana—’the three causes of happiness’. This is a philosophy we are only beginning to appreciate: the idea that wellbeing requires a balanced relationship with the divine, with fellow humans and with nature.
Left: Besikalung Temple, the center of the Besikalung Wildlife Sanctuary with its lush sacred forest, chosen as the release location for rehabilitated wildlife. Photo: Ditro Wibisono Wardi Parikesit. Right: a family conduct a ceremony lead by a hindu priest inside the Besikalung Temple. Photo: Ditro Wibisono Wardi Parikesit.
Walking through Besikalung, you see this philosophy in action. Hindu temples are active and still anchor the community, despite the modernity surrounding them. Ceremonies continue and offerings appear daily. And the Bali starling—a powerful symbol of Bali itself—has been woven into this living tradition.
The illegal pet trade remains a threat. However, prices for pairs of Bali starlings have fallen from €450–900 to €30–150, largely as a result of successful breeding programmes. And awig-awig creates social and spiritual barriers that formal laws alone cannot—fines matter, but so does the belief that harming these birds disrupts the fundamental harmony between humans and nature.
Watching the starlings from the steep village roads and chicken farms, the lesson feels clear—conservation doesn’t always require pristine wilderness isolated from human activity. Sometimes it just needs communities who care.
Left: Bali starling release ceremony conducted with gap year students from the United States, along with Babahan Village authorities and other villagers who attended. Photo: Ditro Wibisono Wardi Parikesit. Right: Nest box installation on a tree where the community report frequent sightings of Bali starlings. Photo: Ditro Wibisono Wardi Parikesit.
Speaking personally, our conclusions are less about nest boxes and habitat management and more about recognising communities and supporting them in applying values they’ve held for centuries. On Besikalung’s busy streets and hillsides, ancient philosophy and modern conservation have found common ground with harmony, community and hope.
The article ‘Bali starlings and the journey towards happiness: introduction and breeding in the Besikalung Wildlife Sanctuary, Bali, Indonesia’ is available open access in Oryx—The International Journal of Conservation.
