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!