The accidental birder – Shobha Singh
On the way to Jim Corbett national park, Nikhil Devasar asked me, “So, what do you expect to see there?” I searched the inner recesses of my heart where I generally keep my desires tucked away. A short ‘bucket list’, if you please. I said, “Nothing. I just want to be amidst nature!” And thus began my expedition to a world that was full of intrigue, serendipity and bliss.
It was another place, another time.
Delhi at four am is a place bereft of the characteristic chaos; Sanjay Tiwari and I zipped past milestones of Delhi and took our first break at Gyani’s where Nikhil and Udayan Bhatt joined us. Breakfast, as promised, was stuffed paratha with dollops of white butter floating like tiny icebergs. Next stop was at McDonalds and the coffee there was to be our best hot beverage in the next few days.
As the sun rose higher, the road became more pothole-ridden, eventually giving way to crater-filled patches; the car gyrated, and bobbed perilously, testing the suspension’s limits and will power. The barna trees were in flower and broke the monotony of the dreary landscape. The sky was probably its hottest and angriest by the time we reached Sitabari. We shifted our belongings to the jeep assigned to us under a blistering sun, and began our safari into wilderness.
Saal trees dominated most of the forest. Leaves-gold, amber and vermillion- dropped gently from the trees and carpeted the pebbled paths. The roadsides were brown and grungy with decaying leaves. After a demanding ride of over two hours, we reached the Dhikala guest house. I thought a good afternoon’s rest after a hearty lunch was in the offing. My dreams were prematurely smashed to smithereens, and I dragged myself to the waiting caravan to start my maiden safari. I was introduced to The Jungle Safari gang- Varun, Aashu, Ravi, and others, and I knew there was no going back now.
All you need for a safari is a bottle of water, sunblock, a cap and a pair of dark glasses, or so I thought. Armed with all that and hope in my heart, I felt more than equipped to take on the rough and tumble of birding.
The narrow kuchcha bare road turned into a wider road that was embraced by a green canopy that provided much needed relief. Sun was hot enough to melt my features. Taking long swallows of water, I prayed for a wandering cloud, but the safari became more and more torturous and tortuous. Often the road swept upon a flat ground. Elephants, statuesque and satiated, strolled in the gossamer golden grass that flapped happily in breeze.
We criss-crossed the now dry river-beds with smooth boulders sprawled like sleeping animals, and dry thrush hiding unknown beings. Our jeep lurched ahead sturdily, sunrays beating down on us mercilessly. Lathered with a sunblock of 110 SPF and donning a cap that was a memento from the Cayman Islands, I tried to handle the heat. A juvenile spot-bellied eagle was spotted among other denizens of the forest and Chaud (grassland), and I felt initiated.
In the evening, I showered and dust trickled down copiously- the trophy of a hard day of birding spread on the tiled bathroom floor. We sat out in the porch and watched the placid waters and the mountains over the yonder. Later, in the dining hall, dinner was served with love and partaken with gratitude.
Second day, early morning, a strategy was devised. We go towards the Dhangiri gate where a nest of long-tailed broadbill was seen. Obviously, a perch was assured and we were upbeat about catching a good glimpse. When I saw a couple of these beauties, my jaw fell. It was a bird that defied all description. It was green, it was blue, it had a splash of yellow and a smattering of white and it stole my heart. I also saw a black and white poetry in motion. It was a paradise flycatcher which was a dream come true for me. Provenance was particularly generous that morning and in flew a flock of flycatchers- gliding, soaring, floating.
A khaleej pheasant and some jungle fowls meandered by us and I soaked in their vibrant colours. On a high branch, a big brown owl sat grumpily staring into nothingness. A pair of collared falconets sat on a leafless tree, overseeing the jungle business in general. My companions were quite erudite on fauna as well the flora and would not only tell me the common and botanical names of the trees but also regaled me with the names of the butterflies-common crow, striped tiger, common mormon-the names were as beautiful as their stunning colours. A pair of white-crested laughing thrush was spotted on the way. Near the river, pied kingfishers endeared us with their acrobatics.
Mostly we saw herds of deers- I still cannot figure out the difference between antlers, deers, cheetal. My illustrious friends were pundits of sorts and I wondered if I was adding any value to my team. Assurance came promptly and I accepted it graciously.
Safari Guides have this uncanny ability to create a monumental drama when there is little. So, a cry of a barking deer fills the air and we stop breathing. Smudged pug marks sighted and we start hearing footsteps. Leaves rustle and we feel a pair of glowering eyes upon us. A barbet’s cacophony, some unseen woodpeckers’ constant drill, a shrill toot of a crested serpent eagle- the sense of theatrics heightens.
As we were passing by a dark and dense undergrowth, our guide directed us to be quiet and halted the jeep. We backed up a little and he pointed towards what looked like an amorphous black and green mass. Peering into the binocs, I saw a brown and black striped patch. We moved away some distance and lay in wait on the Ram Singh road. Every minute was laboured, every movement exaggerated; our hearts throbbed in unison. None of us was sure if what we thought were two tiger cubs would ever come out. Wind walked deliberately between the trees and when a branch moved, a frisson ran gently up my nape.
Unexpectedly, we saw three wild boars coming out from the other side of the road. Ungainly, clumsy and directionless, the three fools stood staring at us. We willed them to enter the bush, and as if on cue, they sauntered into the thicket with bluster, and out came bounding the two tiger cubs. About 6-7 months old, they hurtled towards us chasing the boars, which were now running for their precious lives. Meanwhile, some jeeps had converged and the enthusiasts keenly watched the drama unfold. Suddenly, a jeep swerved ahead of us like a maniac, pursuing the cubs, leaving us all in a cloud of dust and disgust. As expected, the cubs now confounded by all this commotion disappeared like a chimera. The drama, high-strung, action-packed, nonpareil, lasted all of 60 seconds.
I was aghast. What a blatant disregard of the habitat. Just for a closer dekko, or may be a photo-op, someone had ruined a perfect moment. First we intrude into someone’s home, and drive the rightful owners into a corner. And then we take our prying to a dismal level of voyeurism. What a pity!
Anyway, two hours of perseverance and patience had paid off handsomely. We sat smugly now, our backs straight, with a pleased smile on our lips. We left for Chaud to watch a well-deserved sunset. The mountains were a magical shade of blue; an invisible brush painted the sky with red and orange and pink. The cost of cameras of my team members put together was more than the worth of my movable and immovable assets. Overwhelmed, I had put away my small camera. My eyes captured the enchanting evening for posterity. Sighing with contentment, we came back to the base camp.
After the shower and dinner, we gravitated outside and sat under a starry night. When the sky is so expansive and inky, when the slice of moon hangs low and the stars glint so intimately, old Hindi film songs become imperative. A theme for the night was decided- raat, chandani and the raison d’etre of all songs- love. So, it began haltingly, soon others of The jungle safari gang joined us and we sang throatily, lustily, passionately.
Rapidly and noisily, a wind rose from behind the row of towering eucalyptus trees. Blistering drops from a dishevelled sky splattered us with ferocity. We stood watching the rainstorm. After a brief hiatus in the singing session as a tribute to the natures’ symphony, we challenged our vocal chords again –turning in only when the clock struck twelve. The next morning, our neighbours gave us the feedback, “You sang melodiously but we had to put our earplugs on”. I have not heard more ‘mixed’ reviews than this one.
I had woken up in the morning, sweating and groping in the dark. Back to basics, time travel? I gave myself a quiet sermon on positive thinking and keeping my spirits high. With tentative steps, I walked to the bathroom; rain or storm, I am nothing if not punctual. I turned the tap on and heard only silence; I careered out and declared to the snoring giants about the immediate emergency. They continued their slumber with child-like innocence and I realised that such exigencies are an integral part of seasoned birders and they don’t easily get rattled.
Water and tea arrived almost simultaneously soon but not the power and yet we were good to go in half an hour. We hurled ourselves onto the jeep when we realised that our designated jeep along with the bean bags had gone to the other group. So, even though an Indian Roller, wrapped in a heart-stopping blue, beckoned, we sped looking for the truant jeep. We turned towards Thandi Sadak and stopped in our tracks. A bevy of lenses loomed formidably and we diverted our eyes to the focus of all this attention. And lo and behold! A tiger cub lay sprawled near a puddle of water (ah! truly the manna from heaven last night), lapping up its coolness. Another cub muzzled him gently. It was a picture-perfect setting and time stood still for all of us. Soon the cubs promenaded towards the copse and disappeared- the spell broke and we breathlessly exchanged our impressions.
Every cloud has a silver lining- I had just understood what it meant. Since we had woken up, we had been delayed at every step. Now, I know, it was all a build-up to this eureka moment. This was our second sighting in two consecutive safaris- what more could one ask for!
With a song in our hearts and wind in our hair, we proceeded towards the mandatory visit to Chaud. Our team had wanted to see bright-headed cisticola and it was about time. We turned towards the gold-spangled grass. The driver and guide were quick to locate two male cisticolas with glowing white heads. The birds were restless and soared high and dived low and played hide and seek for a while. Eventually, few pics were taken and we drove towards canopy covered ‘Palm’. Down below the grasses splayed out into a verdure of simple beauty. A quick stop-over at the emerald waters hugged by lofty palms is almost mandatory.
Exploring the forest, we saw a brown fish-owl that had descended on the ground for a feast of crunchy caterpillars. Then, back to Chaud, which I believe, is a haven for this-chat and that-chat, pipits, prinias and tits. A river lapwing often kept us company on our travails. Oriental pied hornbill, rusty-cheeked scimitar babbler, bar-wing flycatcher shrike, vultures, and many more made guest appearances.
While the dusk thickened, visibility became poor and we concluded our penultimate day of birding. The sky was starry shortly and the crickets sang a soulful farewell. A night-jar, boisterous and flamboyant, flew from one roof to another at the guest house.
The last day, we wanted to say our fond goodbyes to the long-tailed broadbill, and after a fleeting prevue, we headed back. When we left the Jim Corbett sanctuary, and launched ourselves back into civilization, jarring horns of vehicles pierced my ear and brought me rudely to reality.
My heart had soared with every bird on wing; my eyes had melted with every sunset, with every blade of grass I had swayed with the breeze. Stoles of various hues had faded a few shades in the four days of safari, the melanin in my skin agitated beyond placation. With this badge of honour, I, an accidental birder, returned to Delhi. Now, looking forward to another day of sun and wind upon my soul.
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