Birding in my Backyard

 

White-rumped Munia flitter in the hedge.

David Attenborough famously said " Everyone likes Birds.  What wild creature is more accessible to our eyes and ears, as close to us and everyone in the world.  As universal as a bird."

This is so true as the lockdown continues in some form, and so my backyard birding goes on. The ‘new normal’ has allowed me to slow down, to literally smell the roses and watch the birds in my own backyard.  Truly I have opened my eyes and ‘see’ much more than before, on a given day I see many species of birds in our garden. Those who will not see are truly blind. This photo-blog chronicles a few of our more interesting interludes with birds that frequent our garden

   

Oriental Magpie Robin contemplates its next tit-bit
 They seem to have got comfortable as they are quite unconcerned with us as they go about their lives... 

                              

Oriental Magpie Robin parent feeds its chick
... infact so comfortable that many of them nest, breed and bring up their chicks at our place. There is this hole in a mango tree near our verandah where generations of these birds have bred.

White-cheeked Barbet feeding its young with a Praying Mantis
A pair of White-cheeked Barbets were apparently nesting in a tree behind the house, because they constantly brought in food, berries, a dragonfly and even a Praying Mantis. Maybe they had chicks in a nest in the tree, because they would bring in something to eat every few moments, perching on the same branch each time.  At different times on this tree I have also seen White-breasted Kingfisher, Babblers, Oriental Magpie Robins and Spotted Doves.

White-throated Kingfisher looking for something to eat
Almost on the same branch on the Gulmohar tree

Female Purple Sunbird industriously gathers nectar from a flower
Next to the verandah there is a creeper on which bright red flowers grow, this plant almost always has sunbird activity.  

Indian Blackbird inspecting its domain
A pair of Indian Blackbirds have migrated to our garden, and make more use of the place than we do.  Bathing in the bird baths, pecking away on the lawn, the Blackbirds are absolutely at home, in fact they often screech at the resident birds.

Amur Falcon on a well frequented rock
Once a family of about 8 Amur Falcons came to Lonavala lake, here they tried to fatten up before their long migration voyage, but they were so hounded by photographers and oglers, that I wonder if they had a chance to feed

Amur Falcon female  contemplating photographers
the male is dark while the female has a speckled breast.  The disturbance to these birds became so much that the forest department and the dam authorities had to stop sightseeing or photography.

Red-vented Bulbul  sings its song before plunging in for a bath
I installed shallow pottery birdbaths near the verandah, and birds have kept coming to it, first in summer and then in all seasons, including the monsoon.

Red-whiskered Bulbul also comes to the bath
These baths are kept on an old stone bench near the verandah and surrounded by greenery. This allows bird photography Though dominated by bulbuls.....

Spotted Dove suns itself in the bath
I have also seen Spotted Doves, Blackbirds,  and Oriental Magpie Robins. The birds get into the water to cool off or get rid of pests in their feathers. 

Oriental Magpie Robin  spreading its wings on the garden lamp
I once saw an Oriental Magpie Robin have a bath and then sit on the garden light with wings spread, to possibly absorb the heat and dry out.

Female Koel gulping water
In the deeper birdbaths, larger birds come, mainly Koels and crows. Many birds come to our lawn which is a bird foodie’s dream place, Scaly Breasted Munias, Oriental Magpie Robins, Doves all pecking away at whatever they eat.  Sometimes Doves dry their feathers on the lawn, sunbathing as it were.

A pair of Spotted Doves in companionship sitting on the fence in a complete sense of safety
 Birds of all types including some jungle birds frequent our garden and this gives me the satisfaction that they feel safe. It is also a great pastime, observing and photographing these lovely feathered creatures.

to quote Lorraine Anderson
“Nature has been for me, for as long as I remember, a source of solace, inspiration, adventure, and delight; a home, a teacher, a companion.”

In Our Filth

 When the soul, through its own fault... becomes rooted in a pool of pitch-black, evil smelling water, it produces nothing but misery and filth.  Saint Teresa of Avila

Compressed plastic and a bottle around a foraging Water Rail

In the wilds I was breathing fresh air... Or so I thought, till I saw the carelessly flung bottle. Going a bit further I saw the side of the path littered with bottles, wrappers and the detritus of modern, civilised living. The Great Indian Tourist had struck again. The remotest areas are littered, boards in any language do not deter those determined to create filth. I was in the Valley of Flowers, that pristine, clear mountain air, till I saw a jarring sign of the “great Indian tourist". The forest department had diverted  a mountain stream so that trekkers could fill water bottles, right next to this someone had left a big, bright blue bar of washing soap, slowly dissolving into the pristine stream. A little further on I saw the shine of silver foil discarded after someone’s breakfast, lying among the flowers. I also met the guide/owner of a very large agency specialising in VoF; he boasted of his 400 GB of photos and his undying love of the Valley, all the while playing loud music on a bluetooth speaker!  We are somehow hell-bent on destroying our environmental heritage.

 Dirty water flows past a Red-wattled Lapwing 

On my many walks in the mountains, the pristine beauty has been marred by litter.  The base to the Valley of Flowers and Hemkund hike is Ghangriya, where through years of unregulated dumping by tourists and pilgrims have resulted in mountains of refuse behind every homestay and hotel. This is particularly unfair to local fauna which have become used to looking in these mounds of rubbish for an easy meal and are fast losing the ability to forage. 

A pile of rags provides a Pond Heron a perch 

Once outside the bird sanctuary at Karnala,  at the monkey feeding point, I saw a well-heeled young couple and their kid in a car feeding the monkeys. At this place the highway is particularly lethal as monkeys expect a tidbit from each passing vehicle. So I requested the couple to not feed the monkeys as it was causing them to develop a deadly habit.  The guy in the car tells me, and he appeared to be educated, that how could it become a habit when he fed the monkeys only once a year.

A Black Kite sitting on a manhole by a dirty Nala as it waits patiently for a tit-bit

There is a nala near my house, and the water is filthy with chemicals purged by nearby industry, while the banks of the nala are a dumping place for garbage. Birds, insects and butterflies have no choice but to adapt to this dirt around them, they continue feeding on prey that is washed down the dirty water. I have seen Heron, Kingfishers, water birds and kites regularly here.

Slabs of compressed plastic are the resting place for these Lesser Whistling Ducks

On a hike in the Great Himalayan National Park, the guide was proud that his Valley was not producing hydro-electric power, but he was charging his phone and lighting his house as someone else was generating electricity. Everywhere I would go birds and animals would be struggling to live despite the pollution.

A black plastic bag and bits of plastic around a Purple Swamphen 

Our need for indestructible gratification has grown so rapidly and is so insatiable that we are on a path of self destruction. Very soon we will have no place to dump our garbage and civic services will simply give up. 

Seen it all, a Pond Heron yawns at the filthy nala

it is only a matter of time before we drown in our own filth, as it is another's problem, dump it as long it is not in my backyard.  So everyone is dumping in someone else's backyard. "Modern" living has generated so much filth that will not decay for centuries. As Vladimir Nabokov said "We who burrow in filth every day may be forgiven perhaps the one sin that ends all sins."

The Blue Poppy In The Valley of Flowers

 

The Valley of Flowers never ceases to take my breathe away and did so again, in more ways than one. I am puffing and panting my way up to the Valley in Uttarakhand, a part of the high altitude Nanda Devi Biosphere.  The route is not steep nor long but it is at an average altitude of 3340 metres, and it is prudent to be cautious.   It was June 2018 and I was on a trip to the Valley of Flowers (VoF). 

I had heard about the Himalayan Poppy (or Blue Poppy) that grows in this region, on an earlier trip.  (See links to earlier blogs at the end of this one). Though it was early in the season and the chances of seeing one seemed remote, I it would be nice if I could photograph one.  The ‘best’ time is in August when I went on my previous trip, but the crowds are daunting at that time, so this time I went in mid-June and found VoF almost to myself. However as I enjoy hiking and photographing nature, sightings didn't bother me too much.

The route up is picturesque, crossing the Pushpawati River, I stopped to take many photographs because the light was right, my enthusiasm being more ardent than my skill. Along the way I came across many Pika, as long as I didn't make a sudden movement, they were bold and came sniffing right up to me. The peaks on either side are covered in snow and small glaciers come down into the valley, feeding a series of tiny streams.  The Valley itself is astride the Pushpawati River with the snow covered mountain Rataban at the other end.  

While walking up, I came across a forest guard and we got chatting and I told him that I was looking for the Blue Poppy.  Nonchalantly he told me that there was a bunch alongside the path a little further on and they were in full bloom.  I was surprised, a full bunch of them, and this early in the season?  I thought he was mistaken, but as he and I walked on, true to his word there they were.

Blue Poppies, up close, in bright light, it was a photographers dream. There were two bushes with three flowers and a few buds each by the track.  It took me a while to still my excitement and take photos to my complete satisfaction. So close to the path yet I would have missed them had the forest guard not told me. perhaps I had mentally decided that there were none to be seen.  

A simple but elegant plant, the diaphanous petals of the flower are breathtakingly pretty.  The spiny stem and leaves are a sharp counterpoint to the gentle blue petals and yellow stamens of each flower.

I simply could not satiate myself of these lovely Blue Poppies, and I took many pictures to etch the memory in my minds eye.  Regrettably  it was now time to return, I had to be out of the park by sunset. The water in the Pushawati river had risen as the snow on the mountains had melted during the sunny day, I could not help but stop for a few more photos before hurrying on my way. 

After a last look at the Valley (many last looks), I hurry down towards the entrance. At the gate I meet my friend the forest guard and he asks me "so, did you see any flowers?" I think the dreamy smile on my face tells him all.

I like Jim Carrey’s thought that ‘Flowers don't worry about how they're going to bloom. They just open up and turn toward the light and that makes them beautiful.’

I have done three blogs earlier on this entire trip, should you wish, the links are here:

Tungnath and Chandrashila - Communion with the Gods

Hemkund Sahib Revisited

Who Says There are No Flowers in the Valley of Flowers?

Naina Peak and Brahmasthali -The Top of Kumaon

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.” ― Rabindranath Tagore
The sun sets below the rain washed hills where I was staying, and though not very high, the views are spectacular.  I could clearly see the haze at the level of the plains and the clear air here.

When I went  to Pangoot in April 2019 , the experience was a kaleidoscope of birds,  animals, forests, rain (downpours most of the time), years of history and walking, lots of walking.  Walking in these forests is a true communion with nature.  This is Kumaon with the Himalayas on one side and Corbett tiger reserve on the other. Little did I realise that two years later all I would have are lovely memories and pictures.

Chandan Singh ka dhaba has the most delectable meat-chawal (rice).
I took two trains from Mumbai to Lalkuan, and from there a taxi to Pangoot. On the two hour drive I had a very chatty taxi driver, and when I told him that I wanted to eat local food, he got me here, short of Nainital. Chandan Singh only serves meat-chawal which is cooked overnight on a wood fire and sold out by 2 or 3 pm.

Blood red Rhododendron flowers were in bloom everywhere
Rhododendron trees were scarlet with blooms, on every walk I and every way I turned, there were Rhododendrons.  The flower is fat and juicy, it looks beautiful when it is fresh and blooming, but quickly droops and decays on the ground. The juice of the flower is bottled and sold, being the specific for various ailments.

Atop Naina Peak
It rained almost everyday, most times I was climbing in the rain, but as I was equipped for this, I carried spare inner clothing and socks in my rucksack.  When climbing none of the  breathable clothes I own kept me dry, sweat from the inside and rainwater from the outside drenched me completely. In Indian conditions, maybe it is better to take something that dries fast rather than keeps one dry, or is breathable. A poncho kept me dry for a longer while, but in a strong breeze it can flap a bit.

The second Highest peak.
Naina Peak overlooks Nainital, it is very touristy spot, but owing to the rain, there were  no tourists at the top.  Here there is a forest department radio repeater station manned by two forest guards.  One of them took pity on this wet walker and fed me the ubiquitous Maggi noodles and gave me sugar rich tea.  Just what the doctor ordered to get my energy levels up. 

Blue-winged Siva
Though I was there more for the forest walking, Pangoot and Sattal are a birders paradise. Every bird tour company, or birder makes it here at some time.  Though it was warm and so they said at many places bird sightings were limited, there were other places where there were birds in every tree and bush. Walking in these nearly pristine forests is so refreshing, I was doing 16-17 kms a day.

Verditer Flycatcher has a bath
Sattal has myriad lakes (Sat-tal  means seven lakes), connected by water-channels.  At one little stream, the forest department has put up the 'studio'.  This consists of a shallow flowing stream, with some twigs put up for the birds to perch on so that birders and photographers can sit close to the action. At sunrise and sunset there is a parade of birds at this place as they come to drink water and bathe.

A Langur wonders what to do next....
  Though a birders haven, there are many other species too. Apart from the birds, I saw a rare sighting of the Serow, troops of langurs feeding, a chorus of cicadas switching their rattle on and off to the directions of an ethereal conductor. The forests have something for everyone.

Blue-throated Flycatcher
The trip to Sattal is very interesting, first there is Peter Smetacek, many call him the butterfly man, he has arguably one of the largest butterfly and moth collections in the country. The talk he gives is very interesting, explaining various snippets of fascinating butterfly and moth lives. His butterfly collection is on display, but he says that he has a larger moth collection which he keeps in envelopes as moth colours are not stable in sunlight.

A rain spattered yellow lemon
There are other lovely walks in Sattal along a river as there are many birds along the water, I saw a group of birders painstakingly photograph a Spotted Forktail. Along the river-bank I saw the wizard-looking Koel, Great Barbet and of course the ubiquitous Bulbul.  though it rained for a while when I was there, at the heaviest downpour I just took shelter in a milk chilling plant.  There are many houses along the river bed and most have huge lemons like this one.

Atop Brahmasthali, one of the highest points near Pangoot
One early morning I was driven to Cheer Point,  this is where one sees the Cheer Pheasant if one is lucky, I wasn't.  This is on a short route to Corbett Park from Nainital which passes the start for the Brahmasthali hike at the top of which one is rewarded with a darshan of a Brahma Temple. The views are beautiful from here, on one side I saw the foothills with the famous national park, on the other side were the Himalayan ranges.

Red-billed Leiothrix
This trip is of course a birders paradise, but the other fauna is also wonderful.  The jungles are a delight to walk in, I was soaking in the solitude, nature and history. Though there are many tourists in the area, luckily one does not see too many off the beaten track. I like the saying that if you think life is giving you lemons, enjoy the lemonade.

Connecting without a Connection

 

Spiti Valley is in the Himalayas of North India, it is popular these days as a crowded traverse by car or motorbike, an insular ‘been there, done that’ tourist spin for five or six days. But here I was, alone on a twenty day local bus trip and today was only day two, would I last another eighteen days, without the umbilical cord of data? Years of ‘civilised’ living had made me an addict to my smart phone, connecting to friends and family instantly, constantly, compulsively. 

My smart phone was a brick, the smartest smart phone will not connect without a signal, and I had no signal.

I boarded the bus for the eight hour journey, but as soon as it started I was impatient for it to end, to reach my destination. Would the bone-jarring, single lane, often 3000 meter high, perilously winding mountain roads never end?

...Why wouldn't the bus driver drive more slowly? Why, that was a near miss, we nearly fell into the river! Why do those goats not stay off the road. Why, why, why, six more hours of why.

On reaching Chitkul at about 3500 meters, I was rasping for breath while staggering to the home-stay. It claimed to have WiFi but I saw no trace of it. I went for a walk that evening, a gentle level ramble to acclimatise, on the way I kept trying to get a signal.

The next day I rose very early to climb a mountain nearby as I wanted to see the sun rise from the top, but as dawn broke I realised that in the dark I had taken the wrong path and the top was nowhere in sight. Breathing heavily, I paused to enjoy the sun-dappled hillsides and then scramble down, looking for a signal all the way. Rather guiltily, I began to feel nervously liberated, but still no signal, no data, what if...

Two days later I was on a bus to Reckong Peo and on to Sumdo, a journey of nearly ten hours. The bus was filled with chattering ladies and gents, all going to harvest fields along the way. 

The elderly lady next to me explained the types of crops they were going to cut and why they were doing it now (if they didn’t, as it got colder the semi-wild cattle from the mountains would come down eat the crop). 

That the hour or so in the bus each way was the only time in their busy day that the local people got to chat. I noticed that all of them had simple phones, only to make necessary calls, no data, they used their precious time to talk face to face.

Well into my journey a landslide had blocked the road and I was getting impatient again, when I noticed that no one in the bus was perturbed and they simply accepted the situation. Landslides are a way of life here, and fretting does not clear the huge boulders on the road. 

Finding one road closed it was much simpler to explore another. In doing so I found Kalpa, a very pretty apple orchard town, spending three days there.

As the days passed, I found myself slowing down, caring less about plans and mobile signals. Rambling on mountain pathways, I began to feel very close to myself, gradually leaving questions and urgent thoughts behind. 

I began to feel the texture of life at a slow pace, perhaps we have forgotten this pace? 

Walking among the old houses, I see when the wind was blocked with stones and wood and there was time to fit them together precisely. The year was dictated by the seasons and not the clock, work was completed before it got too cold.

I tasted, soaked in and felt the places I passed through, it was very liberating from the shackles of modern life. I met people, got to know them, ate what they ate, and for a moment in time was privileged to enter their lives.

The absolute peace is very calming, I made connections without a connection.