Sunday, 19 March 2017

The Chambal: gharials and the cleanest water in India

A six hour drive from Delhi airport towards Agra took us to the Chambal safari lodge, a lovely property half an hour away from the Chambal River. A cup of masala chai soothed our nerves, jangled by the constant din of vehicle horns and the bad roads after Agra. From this former field camp of the local zamindar, existent since 1890, has evolved a refurbished safari lodge, colonial on the outside but modern and cosy inside. We spent an evening hour watching some local birdlife, including the Indian thicknee, a lifer for me. Sunset was followed by a warm campfire, and a sumptuous dinner.

The next day dawned bright and clear, and guess who we ran into at breakfast: Romulus Whitaker, India's original snake (and crodocile) man! I knew him as I had the fortune of treating him when he was ill a couple of years ago, and my uncle Shiv Sundaram was his good friend and supporter from the 1960s. A true Indian hero if ever there was one, he was here with a BBC film crew to shoot a documentary on the gharial. He had been responsible for the gharial reintroduction program in the 1970s which have seen numbers go up from 200 to 1500 now. The Chambal being one of the last undammed free flowing rivers in India, is one of the last remaining refuges of the gharial, and exclusively fish eating crocodilian which requires clean water and large sand banks to breed. 

We headed off to the river: the surrounding ravines for a couple of km have been incorporated into the national Chambal sanctuary which stretched more than 400 km and forms the border between UP and MP. Amazing foresight to have declared this ravine landscape, the erstwhile home of the dacoit, a sanctuary for the gharial. They were there in numbers, basking in the sunshine, with a couple of huge snout nosed males. They allowed us to get close enough for some stunning shots. Of course there were numerous marsh crocodiles which allowed you to get within handshaking distance, unlike the gharial which is more skittish! Bird life was fabulous with a close up shot of the Great thicknee, although we missed out on the Indian skimmer which is the speciality of the Chambal. Breathing the cleanest air and being on the cleanest river in India (that's actually true) was an uplifting experience!

Afternoon was spent doing more birding in the surrounding fields, and watching a herd of black buck and nilgai. We were after the Indian courser but had to content ourselves with a variety of prinias and a pair of spotted owlets from up close. Evening campfire with a sundowner listening to Romulus rattle off his rattlesnake bite story in Arizona from his US army days (and me chiming in with my snakebite treatment stories) was almost as memorable as being on the river. The next day we headed back to Delhi and work, but not before some relaxed morning birding, including the black breasted weaver bird, another lifer.


One of the best days of my life!
The Chambal river and its iconic inhabitant


Mugger


Gharial

Black-breasted weaver


Comb duck

Egyptian vulture

Red-naped ibis

Great thicknee

Large grey babbler

Little ringed plover



Pied kingfisher

Pied myna

River lapwing

Ruddy shelduck

Shrike

Spotted owlet

Yellow-wattled lapwing

Saturday, 11 March 2017

Tadoba tales: tigers, traffic jams and more

We were hot, irritated and starved of tea the first afternoon (pretty serious if you are a city-lubber used to a few cups to get through the average stressful day). Our mammal sightings on our first safari were only the obligatory spotted and sambar deer. Bird sightings were few and our naturalist hosts were in another vehicle. I was wondering if I had chosen the wrong sanctuary.

Then our guide suddenly halted and reversed the vehicle. He looked along a fire-line made by the forest dept and exclaimed "leopard"! A frantic scramble ensued to spot the handsome large animals striding majestically about fifty meters away. They stayed in sight long enough to get a few photos before moving off into the undergrowth, leaving a trail of chital and langur alarm calls in their wake. Somehow all the tiredness and heat all vanished, and we high fived each other in glee. A few minutes later we get a glimpse of a sloth bear scampering away from the road. Jealous colleagues who had got into other vehicles took envious glimpses of our photos! Such is the random nature of animal watching in a forest.

It used to be that Kanha, Banghavgarh or Ranthambore, were where you went when you wanted to see tigers. No longer: Tadoba is the new kid on the block with tigers to match up with the big boys. This dry deciduous forest, where temperatures can soar to 45 degrees in summer, is being managed increasingly professionally from a tourism standpoint with online bookings and Maruti gypsies driven by authorized drivers with an official naturalist /guide in each vehicle.

Top of Form
Day two started off with a profusion of bird calls. The grey jungle fowl was everywhere, both calling and scampering across the road. The golden oriole, black naped monarch, racket railed drongo, Tickell's blue flycatcher and the yellow footed green pigeon all made an appearance. A brown fish owl glared at us from close quarters. A crested hawk eagle posed close enough for us to get details of individual feathers on its crest. This forest is crawling with Oriental honey buzzards: though called a buzzard, this bird is essentially a honeycomb eater and has evolved hard scales over its face to prevent bee stings and delicate talons to rip open honey combs. A short-toed snake eagle swooped low overhead. A red-wattled lapwing repeatedly dive bombed an Indian thicknee that was probably too close to its nest. We saw the common hawk cuckoo: also known as the brain fever bird for its manic crescendo calls, it is heard commonly but seen uncommonly.

Although we heard alarm calls and waited patiently, there was no sign of any big cat. Finally after four hours of driving with the afternoon sun blazing down, we headed towards the exit. That's when our naturalist host noticed something twitching in the dense bamboo forest. Turned out to be the ears of a tiger! We could see it facing us lying down through the thick bamboo, but darkness set in soon. The evening safari yielded excellent views of a couple of large gaur bulls and the pugmark of a large male tiger held out promise for tomorrow. A savannah nightjar lay perfectly camouflaged by the roadside, and only its loud call led us to detect it and get some memorable photos. We wound down the day with two lifers: the red spurfowl and the barred buttonquail, both spectacularly patterned ground dwellers.

Of course the mantra in every tiger reserve for the educated wildlife watcher is to never look for the tiger. You're better off looking at the birds, the trees and the lesser mammals, to get a more wholesome experience. But somehow the thrill of expecting to see a big cat around each corner never goes away, just like it is for the average noisy, pan chewing, noisy tourist (the arre yaar, tiger jaldhi dikha do bhai type). And somehow the noisiest, most brightly dressed tourist is the one who usually gets to see the tiger the closest and the longest, much to the irritation of the perfectly camouflaged erudite wildlife lover! Perhaps the tigers come to see the noisy tourist out of curiosity, not the other way around.
Good to know that tigers are thriving in this forest despite villages, with fields and schools, right in the middle of the tiger reserve. Truly a difficult life for the villagers, having to travel for miles to the nearest market and often having their crops raided. Hope the handsome government package of Rs 10 lakhs per family and equivalent land outside will be accepted by the villagers: both they and the tigers will benefit. Tourism is transforming the economy here. Where there was a single state owned hotel, a dozen have sprung up, offering rooms from luxury style to the basic roof over your head. Most rural families here, unable to make a sustainable living off the parched land, have a finger in the tourism pie. Maharashtra has many farmer suicides: is tiger tourism then the way out, at least around forests? Gives people an incentive to preserve the forest anyway.

Well if you ask me whether I would rather go on a tiger safari on jeep or birdwatching on foot, the answer is pretty clear. Better to rack up a few dozen species than waiting endlessly for the Lord of the jungle.

But when he does show up, what a show it becomes!

Barking deer

Crested hawk eagle

Leopards by Rasika Gopalakrishnan

Tiger pugmark

Red wattled lapwing

Savannah nightjar

Tiger traffic jam

Thursday, 2 March 2017

In search of the black-breasted parrotbill: Maguri Bheel and Dibru-Saikhowa National Park

Some years ago I had read an article about this enigmatic critically endangered sparrow sized bird with a bill like a parrot, now isolated by progressive human encroachment and loss of habitat to a single sanctuary on the Brahmaputra. So when I had to go to Dibrugarh, Assam on the way to the Mishmi Hills, I immediately asked: can we go to nearby Dibru-Saikhowa National Park? The sanctuary is one of the last remnants of riverine grassland habitat left on the river, quite similar to Kaziranga. The parrotbill requires bamboo and elephant grass, and being territorial, only a few survive. Would we see a bird my kids might never and my grandkids will surely never see?
And so here we were at Maguri Bheel, just south of the Dibru river, a tributary of the Brahmaputra. The first day was spent seeing a number of ducks including the rare ones: the goldeneye, Baer's pochard and the eastern spot billed duck. Waders were aplenty, and I hastily tried to brush up on my sandpipers. Kahuwa resort (named after the local name for the elephant grass) is a comfortable series of huts overlooking the bheel, and promised much in the ensuing two days.
The second day was spent on the sanctuary edge with some endemic riverine grassland species: striated grassbird, sand lark, chestnut-capped babbler, yellow-breasted prinia and a ruddy-breasted crake, a secretive but stunningly dark red colored hen-like skulker on the river edge, and of course numerous commoner waders, storks and ducks. We searched hard for the parrotbill and heard it calling but it did not show up! We consoled ourselves with good sightings of the almost equally rare Jerdon's babbler, another species whose unique adaptation to a riverine grassland may be its passport to extinction.
Day three started off with another unrewarding search for the parrotbill in the buffer zone, after which we headed into the sanctuary. The hour long boat ride along the Dibru river yielded a sighting of the rare Gangetic dolphin! Glad to know that a species which is heavily dependent on unpolluted water, still survives.
Dibru-Saikhowa National Park is naturally protected by the Dibru river, and is a lovely mix of sand, grassland, forest and bamboo. More sightings, including three Oriental pied hornbills and several crested serpent eagles, attest to the richness of the habitat here. The bird list swelled to 117. Unfortunately the parrotbill area within the sanctuary is 16 km by walk, so we had to reluctantly give up our quest. The bane of this protected area are the four villages right in the core area and their retinue of cattle, villagers having to walk or cycle as much as 10 km into the sanctuary to get home. Sounds familiar in other sanctuaries? Perhaps one day they will accept the handsome compensation package of Rs 10 laks and equivalent land outside that the government offers for resettlement. Even now, if the villages are relocated and a conservation plan introduced, parrotbill numbers can recover. And surely, the Indian rhino and tiger can be re-introduced into this rich forest after that. Pipe dreams? Why not? It's been done in Manas National Park and in Nepal.
Day 4 started off with an amazing encounter with the marsh babbler, another rare grassland endemic. Wading through elephant grass with zero visibility and the bird call agonisingly close was quite an adventure, finally resulting in a sighting and a brilliant photo by Nikhil Bhopale: photos are rare due to the dense grass, rarity of the bird and it's constant motion. It was a bittersweet feeling when we left Maguri Bheel despite having had the sightings of a lifetime, as a road is being laid right through the pristine grassland and progressive loss of habitat to cultivation will likely result in local extinction of the bird outside the sanctuary. 
Dihing-Patkai Wildlife Sanctuary:

Dihing-Patkai Wildlife Sanctuary is the largest patch of evergreen forest left in Assam. Evening birding was wonderful with highlights being the Sultan tit, black backed forktail and the streaked spiderhunter. The booming call of the peacock pheasant (a bird that's easy to hear but near impossible to see) rang thought the forest. Our superbly knowledgeable group leaders Nikhil Bhopale and Jayanta Manna live, breathe and exist for birds: definite proof was their confession that both these fine recently married gentlemen had taken their unsuspecting brides birding on their honeymoon (Nikhil to see reptiles in Amboli and Jayanta to Sikkim)! As they shyly showed us their pretty wives' photos, they did admit that they enjoyed the honeymoon birding a bit more than their better halves did. 

Day 5 started off with the obligatory early morning birding resulting in more sightings of the sultan tit, three species of woodpeckers including the rare bay woodpecker and the pied falconet, a compact little cutie of a falcon with striking black and white markings found only in the northeast. Three species of leafbirds (bright green birds with a golden front, orange belly and blue wings respectively) reminded of my two daughters' leafing through the bird guide at a tender age: every time they saw an outstandingly colored bird, they would look at the adjoining map and say: “but pa, it's somewhere in the northeast, nowhere near home in Chennai and we'll never see it!”

Well, see them we did: all except the black-breasted parrotbill. 
Need an excuse to come back one day!
Bar-headed goose by Nikhil Bhopale

Bengal bushlark by Nikhil Bhopale

Common goldeneye by Rasjshree Bhatter

Crested serpent eagle

Ferruginous duck by Nikhil Bhopale

Jerdon's babbler by Nikhil Bhopale

Little ringed plover by Nikhil Bhopale

Marsh babbler by Nikhil Bhopale

Northern lapwing by Rajshree Bhatter

Ruddy shelduck by Nikhil Bhopale

Temminck's stint by Nikhil Bhopale

Yellow-billed prinia by Nikhil Bhopale