Why you need to be swifter than the birds

Knife-sharp black drongoes are everywhere – flitting into the canopy and then perching boldly on wires out in the open, calling to one another. Gorgeous blue-tailed bee-eaters skate over the near bank, posing on stalks sticking out of the water, heads cocked this way and that as they follow the flight of invisible insects, before sallying forth yet again.

Up in the broad-leafed canopy I spot furtive moments – and hear secretive cheeping. A few rufous brown birds are diligently working their way through the leafy canopy: my first thought is they might be babblers of some kind and a flip-through Salim Ali’s ‘The Book of Indian Birds’ makes me halt at Rufous Babbler. Perhaps, or then again perhaps not: I can’t be certain.

The Canopy (photo by Ranjit Lal)

But there are now other distractions: A fig tree of some kind, is in fruit and being monopolised by a quartet of silent Mafiosi koels (both male and female) who ruthlessly drive away any other drupe eaters. A gleaming black-hooded oriole bright as a Kolkata taxi, and his wife are harassed endlessly, and a plump coppersmith barbet given short shrift. A pair of Malabar grey hornbills arrive, squealing and dangling their tails and add to the dadagiri, but they don’t stay long. There is something menacing about these silent koels, flitting from branch to branch, their ruby eyes staring. But what makes you laugh is when a small green barbet with its speckled chest, furiously chases away a dismally squawking Alexandrine parakeet at top speed, cursing all the way! There is probably more than enough fruit on this tree to feed a host of birds, but no, greedy like us, each species seems to want it exclusively for themselves!

We walk back towards the watchtower, and lo and behold – a pair of magpie robins are in attendance here – exactly at the same spot as they were a whole year ago. And then again, the paradise flycatcher snakes in and out of the foliage, its silky white ribbons gleaming – just about at the same spot we had seen it before! The paradise flycatcher always seems to be in one hell of a hurry, diving and jinking at manic speed.

We turn our attention to the lake again. Swallows, lovely in steel-blue, white and russet, hawk, jink and swivel low over the surface, before perching on incredibly spindly stalks sticking out of the water. Overhead, javelin billed darters fly across regularly – though this year we do not see any of their snow-white babies. A Brahminy kite circles low for a dekko, and a black kite impersonates a marsh harrier, flying menacingly low over a flock of snow-white cattle egrets and sees them off in slow wavy flight.

You scan the emerald water hyacinth, and sure enough unearth several plump purple swamphens in their shot purple-blue silks and wearing that luridly lipsticked red bill stomping their way across busy with their breakfast. They are kept company by a pair of more sedate bronze-winged jacanas who also take off when the kite swings by, their long spidery legs, perfect for balancing on wobbly floating foliage, dangling far behind them. Ladies will be happy to note that in the breeding season the lady jacana maintains a harem of gentlemen, who guard her territory and one of whom is designated as the incubator and baby sitter! If danger threatens, he will usher the babies under his wings and move off! The ladies in the meanwhile, will fight tooth and nail over their gents and will go looking for other ‘macho’ dudes!

Purple Swamphen and Bronze-winged jacana (photos by Ranjit Lal)

While I was finding it frustratingly difficult to winkle out birds in the canopy that were being pointed out to me – and usually failed to do so unless they flitted from branch to branch – what I did spot instantly, seemed to be a long, brown log gliding silently in the water. A serrated kind of log – which through the binoculars revealed itself to be a crocodile. It made no ripples as it slid past, just the head and back breaking the surface, silent and Zen-like in its yogic passage. It struck you how dangerous it could be here, to be casually trailing your fingers through the waters, while being on a serene boat ride.

Up in the watchtower it is meditatively serene – quiet but for the soft background cheeping of birds keeping in touch as they scour the canopy. Of course, it is ironic, that this is essentially a water-fowl habitat and that for the last two years (at least at this time of the year), waterfowl seem to have forsaken it, making you wonder why. But yes, in the canopy there is still plenty to see and observe, provided you can get your eye in asap.