Ducks, Birds, Wildlife, Waterfowl

Wildlife and leopards

Kondakarla-va

Destination KONDA KARLA-VA

Cradled in the foothills of the Eastern Ghats is the beautiful lake of Konda Karla-va; and my wanderings took me to this very vibrant lake. Here, I met my friend the forest watcher who is a knowledgeable chap, but alas! He spoke in Telugu; and though I am good at it – though the accent terrible – I could not fathom the names of birds he reeled off. Therefore, with a field guide full of pictures as interpreter and two good pairs of binoculars, we set off on one of the most thrilling bird watching trips I have undertaken so far.

Birding on foot, bi-cycles, motor vehicles and boats are all too familiar. What I had never dreamed was a bird watching trip on a lake seated on an up-turned charpoy (cot made of wood and ropes) that acts as a vice in holding the two Palmyra palm dugouts together. My friend the local birdwatcher, employed with the forest department and I set out on this contraption propelled by two pole wielding, able-bodied fishermen, who rigged this thing together. I was a little worried when I saw that the cone shaped dugouts not tied or nailed, but married together by this rhomboid and inverted charpoy. Moreover, the cause for concern was their divorce in mid-waters over some disagreement, which was a grave possibility.

The biomechanical propellers propelled us noiselessly through the Typha and weeds, and there amongst the reeds we spied the Blue-breasted Banded Rail that quietly stalked the stalks, looking intently, while keeping very still for any frogs, fish or insects that might put in an appearance. The Ruddy Crakes kept flying about; their legs dangling crimson red – seeming more like weeds in which they live – under them. Attention is always arrested by music, and I being no exception; stopped. The Large Reed Warblers were pouring out their liquid song perched atop the grasses and sedges from which we now emerged that lined the lakeshore.

I then saw a very exuberant lot of purple flash in very green, young paddy. The Purple Moorhen were at work, bringing to naught the toils of a farmer with zeal. Not too far from this rabble of smartly liveried rouges in purple vesture, red skull caps, masks and red stockings, was a flock of Whimbrel - the drably clothed plain Janes - heads bowed, probing the mud with their down curved bills – feeling downcast - for whatever they eat, conscious of their fancifully dressed, vociferous and cocky neighbours.

As the rigged contraption moved into the lake, little ducks flew all around us; emerald green with white lace work screaming in a very guttural army sergeants’ voice commanding all their kind to “Fix your Bayonet”; and like an air force of Lilliputs took off from close to a couple of blundering Gullivers on their bird watching expedition. These were the tiny Cotton Teal – the smallest of ducks in India.

Looking into the waters was like looking at the overgrown head of Medusa the Gorgon; tendrils of water plants spiralling up and swaying gently in the currents, belying their strength to snare some unfortunate. The water lilies festooned the surface with their multi-coloured flowers, as if an adornment on her head.

In the distance was a very hazy grey in a trellis of Ipomoea. I looked hard to decipher the mass. A plume raised some movement about, all suddenly bobbing; the branches of the Ipomoea, on closer examination seemed festooned with the same grey fleece. A closer and better look from another angle showed them as the Asian Open-billed Storks. We moved further to see a large flock of swordsmen prodding and probing an unplanted, squelchy plot of land. The Godwits were having a field day picking the worms and crustaceans that lurk under the surface. Little Stints were running in a frenzy and then, as if on cue, took off from a little patch they called runway. Their aerial display kept us from going further and their orderly mad flight had the same effect on their friends in a neighbouring patch. They joined forces and flew formations that would put the best air force to shame.

The gullible terns or were they Gull-billed Terns (?) flew all over, turning and diving into the lake and then, escaping Medusa’s tresses. They were a dainty picture in their white angelic attire as they milled about and showed off - as a white and silver shimmer - in the afternoon sun. The Jacanas, both the Bronze-winged and the Pheasant-tailed were trying to impress the others of their prowess to walk the adornment on Medusa’s head. The afternoon sun showed them off as very glamorous and dainty models walking the ramp. They seemed to know, or, why would they stop in mid-step, raise a wing and stretch a leg and beacon to a crowd of an assortment of life forms. They were big flirts too! The Red Crested Pochards were red in the face with the antics of the Jacanas. They swam with dignity and kept pretty much to themselves; having a proud air about them, moving with other expatriates – the handsome purple-brown crowned, white eye-browed, blue winged - blue blooded Adonis - the Garganey Teal and the Common Teal sporting the mask of Zorro. Then, on the shores, we chanced upon the Ruffs – not roughnecks – and their petite Reeves that were industriously helping a farmer get rid of the little insects and worms undermining his crops. They also, I am sure took some earthworms, but then is not it a bonus and a treat?!

After watching them and many more such dramas which had un-folded before us, we repaired back to where we started; my friend the birdwatcher enjoying the trip as much as I did, having got for the first time an unlimited use of a pair of binoculars and a field guide full of pictures!

NIRMAL On the Godaveri

Christmas Eve saw Dr. Praveen, his daughter Deepti and I head-off at the crack of dawn. Our destination, the little town of Nirmal across the mighty Godavery River and due North of Hyderabad, a comfortable three and a half hour drive from home with tea breaks thrown in.

The previous evening we had Dr. Asad Rahmani, Director of the Bombay Natural History Society – or simply the BNHS – talk to the forum called NATURE QUEST about the demise and disappearance of the various Vultures across the Indian sub-continent. The hand of man dealing a death blow to these birds that are nature’s best Waste Disposal Managers. Diclofenac – the culprit – used by all and sundry to alleviate the various aches and pains and diseases plaguing the Indian Cattle dealing death and destruction to the Vultures of our sub-continent.

We drove as I mulled the situation, for, in the mid eighties these very Vultures now on the brink were cause of great concern to the aviation industry due to bird hits. And today every community mourns their disappearance. The best and by far the most effective waste disposal system is down and needs desperate measures to recover.

The sight of several braces of Grey Partridges brought cheer, for on the first day of Christmas a true love gives a partridge in a pear tree. We saw a lot of birds a-calling, and the tanks we passed by showed up ducks instead of geese. The Red Crested Pochards, the Common Pochards, the Wigeons, the Gadwalls – all ducks – and the Coots and many others were swimming about. In our eagerness to see what wild-winged waterfowl had arrived, we got off while Praveen parked his car further up the road. And as we repaired back to the car we were hit by the appalling stench emanating from the carcass of a buffalo, bringing into sharp focus the lack of Vultures.

Ten minutes later we were with our friends from Hyderabad – all members of the Birdwatchers’ Society of Andhra Pradesh (BSAP). All the birds had finally flocked together. They had arrived the previous day and had a field day at the various spots full of birds. We fortified ourselves with breakfast and tea and coffee. Waheed, the DFO of Nirmal, a kindred soul and co-conspirator with me for over two and a half decades sent his Range Officer Rathode to accompany us to a tank in the Mamda forest range to see what birds could be seen. Arrived, my first reaction was of absolute dismay. Praveen shared the feeling too. Not a bird worth noting in sight, and the forest extremely quiet. Mechanically we put up the scope and scanned the shoreline. A few Common Teal were taking their afternoon kip standing on one leg along with a lone Gadwall. Praveen, Deepti and I headed off into the forest leaving the rest of the flock to decipher whatever birds they could see. We trampled on the fallen Teak leaves that crackled underfoot. It was like walking on a carpet of crisp chips! And we walked into a flurry of activities. The Pygmy Woodpeckers had a touch of the winter Sun. They were chasing each other and then alighting to peck a few holes and then continue their mad rush with much chirping. To add chaos to the confusion the Maratta Woodpeckers and the Grey Tits also winged in and then there were always differences of pinions.

Soon Waheed who had an engagement elsewhere joined us as we repaired back to the Turkam Cheruvu Tank from whence we marched into the forest. The birds seeing an army arrive took to wing and left no trace whatsoever. So back to the tank and over the bund we walked. The causeway and the bund divided two worlds. On the one hand we had the tank and Teak forest and on the other was a very typical micro-climate with tropical evergreen. Waheed gave us a picture of the scheme of things and then we proceeded to an Arjun tree.

This tree was an aviary in itself. There were the pretty Small Minivets, the Ioras, the White-eyes, a Small Blue Kingfisher and hordes of bee eaters – the Blue tailed and the Small Green. And then a little bird flew in. In the shadows we lost it, all one could say was that it was a fly-catcher. But which one was the question. After many false starts and names doing the rounds it was confirmed as the White browed Blue Flycatcher. The excitement had barely died when again Oohs and Aahs brought into light the Verditer Flycatcher. With gnawing hunger finally taking precedence over birding we un-glued ourselves and headed back to the lake shore from where we started. The evergreen patch was a great draw. There were a lot of birds and the Woodpeckers kept us all busy when again a tiny blue bird flew in. Field glasses trained on this disrupter of peace showed him off as a male (what else?) Black-naped Blue Flycatcher.

Without anymore Flycatchers to ambush and arrest our advance we made it to the rendezvous where the Forest Dept. staff under Waheed’s instructions had laid out a sumptuous lunch. Then Waheed declared that we spend the night on the lake bed. And so we repaired back to Nirmal to gather our belongings.

On arrival the camp was set, with food cooking and tents pitched and laid out with mattresses, pillows and blankets to weather the cold – for it was Christmas Eve. With a camp fire without and for some of us liquid fire within we were all aglow, and everybody waxed eloquent – some even in Greek and Latin.

A late night walk through the forest in two batches lugging a monster of a light was great fun and we all came back to welcome Christmas with cake at Midnight. It was definitely not a Silent Night, though a Holy one as we went to sleep lulled by the calls of the wild.

Praveen was the first to awake to welcome the new born day. And slowly others followed. A call came out of the forest: not the braying of Spotted Deer in rut, nor the laugh of the Grey-headed Fish Eagle did I see the previous evening and neither that of the Changeable Hawk-eagle, but something very different. After several perplexing moments the callers came into view – a pair of Stork-billed Kingfishers. We turned to the lake yet again to see a Black-bellied Tern along with the River Terns stooping on fish.

The birders left Praveen, Deepti and me and headed back to that little town, while we went into the forest to see what we could see. A Yellow-throated Sparrow arrested us by its call, and we finally spotted it sitting like a puff of cotton on a lofty twig of a mighty forest giant.

The birders left and Deepti with them, and in the evening Praveen and I drove to Aaloor Tank some distance from Nirmal and saw a lot of Pochards and other waterfowl.

Dinner with Waheed was an eye-opener to the problems faced by the forests and its protectors.

Next mornings saw us drive back and were in town to take on the onslaught we face in our jungle – here called a city. And we promised ourselves to be back, for the forest reminded me of Pench where I met and made many friends some citizens and some denizens. And we hope to keep this promise and not break it like pie-crusts.