Clement Dsouza
There is heaviness in my eyes as I try to open them after a late night’s sleep. Outside the window, I hear ‘Magpie Robin’ merrily singing on a lemon tree. His melody is my morning alarm in this quiet and quaint village of Talavde in Lanja taluka of Ratnagiri district. I lazily turn positions on the bed, anxiously checking the time on the watch. It displayed 6 am. Isn’t it too early? Can I snooze for an hour? Will I regret not seeing the birds? No-no, I cannot let go of this opportunity of bird-watching. I immediately get up, sprinkle water on my face, get hold of my binoculars, and go nowhere.
Yes, true. I go nowhere. Because I don’t need to go anywhere. My house surrounded by mango orchards and cashew trees is a sanctuary for birds. I visit my village once a year experiencing the delightful charm of different seasons. I am always intrigued by the bird life here. It amazes me every time I go for bird-watching in the backyard. Even if I sit motionless in one place, practicing patience, the birds start revealing themselves individually. The previous day I was reading a travel book sitting below a mango tree. It was 7:30 am. The sun’s rays pierced through the canopy of mango leaves and graced the book’s pages. A slight breeze came from the other side of the farmland. I was loving this session of book-reading.
As I was engrossed in reading a travelogue that transported me to some remote village of Garhwal in Uttarakhand, I heard a sweet whistling call from a mango tree. The bird stayed out of sight. The whistle sounded like ‘wheee..teu..’ ‘wheee…teu..’. I felt like the bird was asking ‘where are you’ ‘where are you’? Of course, the bird was not asking for me. I cannot sing as sweet as it does. In an instant the bird got its response from another tree, ‘I am here..’wheee..teu.. where are you?’. And then they both desperately started calling each other one by one, ‘where are you’ ‘where are you’ ‘where are you’?
Their call was so mesmerizing that I stopped reading. I remained still. My movement would have disturbed them. I kept observing the directions of the sound knowing they were very close to me. It was just a matter of being patient. Their call was very familiar to me. I was confident I had seen this bird last year during my visit to Sangameshwar. I couldn’t recollect the name now by its call. The birds went silent for a few minutes. Singing stopped. Did they finally meet each other? I opened the book to read. To my excitement, one of them landed on the ground in front of me, looked at me up and down, hopped a few steps upturning the leaf litter, and started singing its 2-noted melody again ‘wheee..teu.. where are you’?
The moment I saw the bird, I knew who it was. How could I forget its distinctive call, I thought? A plump-looking, multi-colored bird. Referred to as ‘Indian Pitta‘ or ‘Navrang‘ in Marathi, this bird is distinguished by its striking nine colors. The Indian Pitta is a migratory bird that travels from the forest of the Himalayas to Konkan or South India during winter. They leave Konkan by the end of the monsoon. The Indian Pitta calls with its head up towards the sky charming the woods with sweet music. I also saw the other Pitta perched on the low branch of the opposite tree.
I was keen to observe how both of them came to an understanding. At that moment, our house cat hurriedly chased a skink in the foliage disturbing the pleasant meeting between the two birds. Both flew in different directions and started singing again but this time their melody was filled with melancholy; or at least, that was my impression. I started reading again, hoping that they would reunite soon and build a nest and raise a family here in my village before traveling back to the Himalayas.
Was the Navrang singing to attract its mate or marking its presence or territory through its call? Who knows? Let the bird experts decide. The poet in me has something else to say:
The pittas call, a whispered rhyme, The forest floor, a musical chime. ‘’Where are you,’’ the air begins to soar, Falling in love again, forevermore.
Back to the present day. Everyone is asleep except me and Babu who is milking the cows. Looking at his short height, one can easily mistake him for a school-going boy. It is only because of his thin moustache and slight muscular arm one can believe he is a man in his thirties. He takes care of Aai-baba and helps them with the household chores. Babu is very fond of his cows and tends to them lovingly. He is the first person to wake up in the house but today I was early before him.
The day breaks early in summer and holds itself a little longer. That gives time to watch the birds early in the morning or just before sunset. Even the birds are happy. The sun has spread its light over the village yet it remains hidden a bit longer. Before the day becomes hotter and the birds fly away deep into the forest, I step out of the house.
A flock of around seven noisy ‘Jungle Babblers’ with earthy-brown plumage were foraging on the grains in the house courtyard. My father-in-law runs a flour mill. So there are plenty of grains and insects to eat. While doing so they were continuously chattering and screaming among themselves. I call them angry birds because they never stop complaining. There is always a constant chattering. But yes, I always look for them whenever I visit the village. For me, their presence is a sign of healthy bird life in the region.
A temple of the village deity, ‘Shree Gangeshwar’ is located a few meters from the house. The temple location is such that any nature lover would love to visit. Isolated and thriving with bird life. The secluded road to the temple is surrounded by jackfruit, peepal, banyan, kusum, nilgiri, teak, mango, cashew plantations, and other wild trees. On the other side of the temple, there is a forest patch where leopards roam freely. Sometimes they even come near the temple. Two months ago, it was near the gate of the temple where one of the Babu’s cows was killed by a leopard. Babu still mourns the loss of his cow and curses the leopard. No one ventures here alone after dark, not even villagers.
I love to visit the temple area. It is my favourite place in the village. Not because of the leopard, yes I wish to see him someday; but because this place heals me within. I feel connected with nature. There are a variety of birds within this small patch. From my house to the temple, in 10 minutes of walk, I have spotted more than 15 species of birds. An experienced bird watcher or an ornithologist may even note more species. But this place has some ethereal feeling to it. The solitude of the trees speaks straight to the heart. Except during Dusshera and Holi, when the temple is busy with festive rituals, it is peaceful all year round.
Coming back to my bird-watching experience, as soon as I left the house, I saw four ‘White-Rumped Munias’. The munias have a distinctive plumage. The white colour on its underpart and rump finely contrasts with the blackish-brown head and back. One munia was resting on a banana leaf while the others were foraging for grass seeds. They are very social birds and I have always seen them in flocks. They look beautiful as they flutter and chirp in the grassland living in harmony with the other bird visitors.
The land where we grow vegetables and plant rice was occupied by ‘Spotted Dove’ and ‘Red Spurfowl’. A ‘Red-Whiskered Bulbul’ whistled in the backyard on the papaya plant. Tired of singing, it started shooing away the tiny sparrows that came to drink water from the dripping tap.
Perched on the red laterite wall was the ‘Oriental Magpie Robin’. Its black and white colour shone brightly in the warm morning sun. It looked at me for a while, gave a warning call, and flew away as hurriedly as it came. Do I look like a predator? I may look like a robber but I cannot kill anyone except mosquitoes and cockroaches. Someday I may even stop killing them.
I was plucking or could say robbing some chickoos when a ‘White-spotted Fantail Flycatcher’ hovered from one branch to another trying to scare me away. I checked for any nest on the tree; the reason for his agitation. But there wasn’t any. It gave a harsh call ‘chuck-chuck’; yet I found the song much sweeter. Babu who was with me at that time informed me that the land belonged to my father-in-law where the chickoo tree stood. The flycatcher was acting as if he was the landlord. Anyway, I allowed him to take shelter provided he gave me my share of chickoos.
Babu left to do his morning chores. I was standing beneath a coconut tree counting the number of mangoes hanging on a branch leaning above the laterite wall. These mangoes I would surely take to Mumbai, I thought and smiled. My imagination was disturbed by a loud whooshing sound. A large bird flapping its wings flew above the coconut tree. I had no hesitation in recognizing the bird. And it was confirmed when I saw its wings spread; flying towards the Gangeshwar temple. It is because of this bird that I am always on my toes for bird-watching. I am overjoyed to see him every year in my small village thriving with wildlife. This bird is called…. Hold on! I want my readers to come with me to the temple area where I would introduce you to this bird.
On the roadside, before entering the temple area, a different birdlife was observed. These birds kept themselves away from humans or houses. A ‘Black-rumped Flameback’ was inspecting the bark of a tree, scrutinizing it from the base to the top. It did not find the bark suitable for housing and emitting a high-pitched trilling call flew away to some other tree far from my sight. Nevertheless, I heard a hammering sound later. Maybe the woodpecker found what it was looking for.
Then there was ‘Baya Weaver’ foraging for food in flocks in the agricultural field. They are very busy birds and do not remain still in one place. I had to be as brisk as a bird observing them. With the onset of monsoon, they become more active as it marks the beginning of their breeding season. There is a thorny acacia tree near the rice field where the males often construct their intricate hanging, gourd-shaped nests. It is a visual treat observing them from June to September.
A small flock of ‘Red-rumped Swallows’ moved in a circle above a newly built bridge on a riverbed. Their graceful movement was among the loveliest I had seen. They were doing air strikes by feeding on the flying insects. The river bed was dry but some water below the bridge provided a small habitat to birds like ‘Swifts’ and ‘White-throated Kingfisher’.
I entered the path going towards the temple. It was 7:30 am. The sun began to rise, casting its light over the village; however, its rays had yet to touch the temple. Towering trees stood sentinel between the sun and the temple, and even the faintest sounds from outside were silenced in this secluded area of the forest where the village deity dwelled.
A pair of ‘Common Moorhen’ – a short duck-like bird came out of cashew plantations and crossed paths in front. As I went further, I was surrounded by numerous bird songs. There were so many birds here but I saw none at first glance. Whom do I listen to first? Can you sing one by one, please? A musical operetta was being performed at Gangeshwar Temple in Talavde. Who and where was the conductor for this? It did not matter. I was the only audience. In the middle of the fallen dry leaves, I took my seat. Patience was my mantra. I closed my eyes and tried listening to them one at a time. To disturb the musical concert, the cicadas joined the orchestra vociferously. How could they be left behind?
The call of the barbet is one of my favourite sounds in the forest. I simply love their continuous repetitive call. Perched on the top of a kusum tree, the ‘Brown-headed Barbet’ tried to give a background music ‘kutroo..kutroo..kutroo..’. And it succeeded in doing that. I laid myself on the forest floor to see it through binoculars as it was perched right above me.
A single-note whistle was heard while the background music was being composed by the Barbet. The whistling continued for a while. It was coming somewhere from the neem tree on my left. After much observation, a bright-coloured yellow bird with a striking black hood and red bill was seen whistling like a rhinestone cowboy. It was a ‘Black-hooded Oriole’. I had to stand to see it clearly and as I raised the binoculars, giving a goodbye whistle, the oriole flew towards the cashew trees where they usually do nesting.
Many bird sounds went unrecognized. But did that really matter? The experience of being surrounded by a variety of melodious birds was truly unforgettable.
Slowly, with the marching of time, the sun won the battle with the trees guarding the temple. Its rays first fell on the shikara and then gradually covered the entire temple premises. Only the path where I sat in front of the temple remained shaded throughout the day, with only slender beams of sunlight penetrating the tree canopy and casting dappled patterns on the ground.
Wait a minute! Where is the large bird that flew above the coconut tree? It is not to be seen in its home. Will it make me a fool in front of my readers? They have come all the way to the temple with me.
A big raptor with dark brown plumage and white bands across broad wings flew above the temple towards a jackfruit tree. No, it is not the one we have come to see. But nonetheless, it looks beautiful with a crest on its head and striking yellow eyes. This was my first sighting of ‘Crested Serpent Eagle’. It is a solitary bird and prefers being alone. It appears wary as I enter the temple premises. Sorry to disturb you, my friend, I won’t take much of your time. I understand the importance of solitude.
Swifts, bulbuls, and mynas roamed freely inside the temple. A swift had built a nest in one of the storage rooms. An ‘Indian Paradise Flycatcher’, with a short tail and brown wings was perched on the temple windowsill paying its morning obeisance to the village deity.
It was 8:30 am. I was waiting outside the temple for my favourite bird to return. I knew this was his home. I anticipated his arrival, though it might take a little longer than expected. However, I had only 30 minutes to wait for him as I had other tasks in hand today. The cicadas had taken over the orchestra in full swing. I sat on a big rock keeping an eye on the banyan tree while a ‘Jungle Myna‘ kept an eye on me.
Tiny white flowers were scattered on the forest floor. The red leaves of the kusum tree looked as if they were painted onto a canvas. I was gazing at the yellow flowers of the Indian Laburnum tree (called bahava in marathi). This golden shower tree brought me luck. The wait was over. A flurry of movement alerted me. A loud beating of wings broke through the treetops silencing the orchestra of the cicadas. The bird flew towards a big Raspuri tree (pairi mango) which was its home. Its graceful glide transfixed me.
In the blink of an eye, another bird arrived and settled on the laburnum tree. It got startled upon seeing me as I stood up excitedly. My heart leaped. I again sat quietly without any movement allowing the bird to trust me. And it did and joined its companion on the mango tree.
A large black and white bird with a huge yellow bill and a piece of armor on its beak. Did you guess it?
This is ‘Malabar Pied Hornbill’.
Listed by IUCN as a “Near Threatened’’ species, to find it in my village says a lot about the wildlife habitat in the region. The birds were watchful of me and kept an eye on my movements. Upon observing closely, I found that they were a pair with their nesting in one of the hollows of the tree trunk. The female can be easily differentiated through a white spot below the eye. Whenever I moved in their direction, they hopped to another branch and cautiously looked at me. They feed mostly on fruits; figs being their favorite but also eat insects, lizards, and small birds.
Once I had seen a male hornbill feeding a fig to its mate nesting inside the hole of a banyan tree. It is the duty of the male to feed her female partner and keep her healthy. It is so heartwarming to see these hornbills care for one another.
I did not wish to disturb them anymore and, with a happy face decided to leave the place. As I started walking back, I heard some commotion. The hornbills gave out loud and raucous squeals. They felt threatened by a Hanuman Langur who had trespassed its territory and was feasting on a mango. The monkey was so engrossed in eating this delicious fruit that it did not bother about hornbills. He looked at me once, showed me its sharp teeth, and continued eating, perceiving me as a good human- being. The poor hornbills tired of scaring the monkey away watched him finish the fruit from some distance.
The monkey and I left the place, obviously in different directions, leaving the hornbills and other birds at peace. May the village deity ‘Gangeshwar’ safeguard this habitat of birds from the advancing encroachments of humanity.
Sighting the birds moving about fearlessly near humans; facing the challenges of a degrading habitat is a sign of hope. Do you think it is possible for man and bird to co-exist? A thought-provoking question, wouldn’t you agree?
