A pilgrimage of passage

You could call them the eight passage deities of Kutch. Their blessings can be sought only for a short period between the middle of August and them middle of October, when they take a pit stop in the extreme west of India on their annual migratory passage through Kutch, the westernmost district of Gujarat. You need to get to Bhuj by train or air and then head on west and northwest towards the Greater Rann and the Banni grasslands in these months to seek their darshan. Mandar Khadilkar of Nature India, and our Kutch specialist birding guides, Vikramsinh Sodha and Karthik Patel, were (figuratively) the "priests" who were to do the rituals. 

The long bright red tail of the Red-tailed Shrike shone like a red beacon, distinctly different from the Red-backed Shrike: of course you would have to differentiate them from their resident Bay-backed and Long-tailed cousins. The Greater Whitethroat has to be carefully sorted out from the Lesser one. European rollers, with their pale head and maroon back, were everywhere, completely supplanting the Indian one at this time of the year. The Blue-cheeked Bee-eater is easily distinguished from the smaller Green ones. The charismatic Rufous-tailed Scrub Robin puffed its wings, cocked its tail and allowed us to approach incredibly close: cellphone cameras were almost as useful as bazooka lenses! It helped that the only flycatcher in this habitat at this time of the year was the Spotted Flycatcher. 

And of course the local residents and early winter migrants were eye-pleasing fillers between the main deities. Can there be a prettier sight than a Painted Sandgrouse couple cavorting oblivious to the large cars nearby? Yes, if you’re looking at four endangered White-naped Tits in the same frame or a pair of White-bellied Minivets with the male’s orange breast glistening in the sunlight. Striolated and Gray-necked buntings, not easy to find elsewhere, kept us constantly engaged. The white streaked tail of the White-tailed iora (formerly Marshall's Iora) was a typical distinguishing feature from it’s Common cousin. Warblers are generally a nightmare to distinguish from each other: not so the lovely Orphean Warbler with its black head contrasting with its pale throat. Twelve personal lifers for me on the trip! 

We checked out the nightlife with fond hopes of paying obeisance to the last remaining passage deity on our list: the Eurasian Nightjar. We got a lovely Sykes's nightjar, a winter migrant to Northwest India that had arrived unusually early, and the common Savannah nightjar instead. Just as we disappointed upped our torches and cameras and started the long drive home, a movement on the telephone wire adjacent to the road revealed the distinctive Eurasian nightjar with its white wing markings! A second sighting of the same bird down the road was most relaxed as the bird allowed us detailed photographs. A sighting of the Indian Nightjar as we entered our property rounded off the nightjar clan: Vikramsinh said it was the first time in eleven years of birding in this habitat that he had seen four nightjar species in one night! 

So if you’re bored in the summer or monsoon months and bemoaning the absence of the usual winter migrants to our shores, you know where to head!

White-tailed (Marshall's) Iora

Common Whitethroat

Eurasian Wryneck

European Nightjar

European Roller

Indian Nightjar

Indian Silverbill

Painted Sandgrouse female

Painted Sandgrouse male

Red-backed Shrike

Red-tailed Shrike

Rufous-fronted Prinia

Rufous-tailed Scrub Robin

Spotted Flycatcher

Sykes's Nightjar

White-bellied Minivet female and male

White-naped Tit

Four in a frame!

Chestnut-bellied Sandgrouse male

Chestnut-bellied Sandgrouse female

                                           

Common Cuckoo

                                             

In search of the Lesser Florican

The incessant cackle of the Large Gray Babblers was punctuated by the shrill call of the Gray Francolin. Like a submarine’s black periscope sticking out of the sea, a black head stuck out above the bajra field. Now and then, the male would jump up into the air and arch itself, this unique mating display impressing not only his female, but drawing oohs and aahs from the gaggle of watching photographers, male and female alike! We waited patiently for the bird to move into the moong cultivation, where the lower level of the crop allowed us to feast our eyes on the distinctive back, bronze and white coloration of a male Lesser Florican in full breeding plumage. All grassland birds are slowly dwindling under the relentless pressure of habitat loss and the specialists to this habitat are taking the expressway to extinction: think such enigmatic species as the Great Indian Bustard, the Bengal Florican and, the deity to whom we had undertaken our pilgrimage today, the Lesser Florican. We were at Shokhaliya, southeast of Ajmer in Rajasthan in the month of August just after the monsoons. Here the fields of bajra, alternating with moong, gave this shy, critically endangered bird the ideal habitat and cover relatively free of pesticides, grazing herbivores and dogs to breed and take the risk of being spotted by humans and predators during its spectacular courtship display. Shokhaliya's grasslands are certainly not a one trick pony. The Singing Bushlark, difficult to spot elsewhere is easily seen here, its higher and prolonged fluttering courtship display easily distinguishable from the lower and rapidly descending parachute type display of the Indian Bushlark. Indian Coursers showed off their tan brown coloration as they elegantly strutted on the flat areas. A covey of Rock Bush Quails scuttled by the roadside. Blue-cheeked Bee-eaters rested here at this time of the year during their migration between Africa and Asia. An Indian Roller tolerated the lighter colored and slimmer European Roller, a passage migrant, across the road but chased it away (to Africa?) when it approached closely. A Painted Francolin's harsh croaking call resonated over a vast area, punctuated by the two toned whistle of the Rain Quail. A rocky outcrop with a pool in between provided ideal habitat for a pair of Rock Eagle-owls and a Savannah Nightjar. Back to the floricans: a frenziedly repeated series of jumps by two males was explained by a female flying past them. Wouldn’t you jump for joy and make your best effort to get noticed if a pretty girl sashays past you? The magic of seeing a critically endangered grassland bird welcoming the monsoon with a courtship display beckons.

                                           

                                            In real time                    

                                           

                                            In slow motion

Ashy-crowned Sparrow-lark

Baya Weaver

Gray Francolin

Great Gray Shrike

Indian Courser

Sand Boa

Rock Eagle-owl

Savanna Nightjar

Singing Bushlark

Yellow-wattled Lapwing

Fields of bajra and moong

Grassland

Mesmerizing Manas

Can a wonderland go to the brink of annihilation and then resurrect itself magically against all odds? Assam’s Manas National Park and Tiger Reserve, on the border with Bhutan, had been poached and encroached upon for a couple of decades, a collateral damage from the Bodo people’s agitation for a separate identity of their own. When I last visited the park in 2006, the park was just stumbling its way out of years of destruction: returning on a birding trip here 15 years later, would it resume its status as the one of the last strongholds of the Terai grassland habitat, largely wiped out by agriculture over almost the whole of the Northeast? And vanishing with their shrinking habitat were the highly endangered species that cannot survive outside this habitat: Bengal florican, black-breasted parrotbill, Jerdon's and slender-billed babblers, Indian grassbird, swamp francolin and Finn's weaver.  A list any birder worth his salt would give his right hand to see!

In search of the Bengal florican

When visiting India, most tourists would head to the Taj Mahal: when in Manas the natural first destination for us was the florican, best seen in the eastern grassland part of the park where we set aside an entire day for this and other grassland specialists. Low grass on either side as far as eye can see, the mountains of Bhutan in front and the piercing call of the black francolin in the background was the sylvan setting for morning birding in the eastern Bhuyanapara range. The magnificent black, white and copper colored male florican was easily spotted from a distance with its black head sticking out like a periscope above the grass. Spotting is the easy part: they were shy of our vehicles but we still saw half a dozen individuals. Breakfast afterwards tasted especially flavorful!

Grassland birding: the tough and the easy

The higher elephant grass into which we headed next was both easy and tough to bird in: the striated babblers and Siberian stonechats were much easier to see than the rare ones we were after. Still, a succession of lifers ensued: the handsome slender-billed babbler with its variety of browns was followed by the chestnut-capped babbler with its striking snowy white head. The Indian grassbird called away but yielded us only a fleeting glimpse, so also the golden-headed cisticola. Who said grasslands are boring and free of bird life?

We headed north into the forest, where a steady stream of forest dwellers interrupted our gypsy drives. Our guide Rustom Basumatary had an uncanny ability to hear bird calls above the engine’s noise and our list of species swelled. Remember, our group leader Nikhil Bhopale adheres to a strict policy of not using bird call playbacks. Memorable was our furtive tiptoe to a forest pool where a black-tailed crake posed for the perfect shot.

We then headed to the former seed farm at Kokilabari, just outside the park and what an afternoon ensued! As many as seven more male floricans were sighted: not a single one of the well camouflaged females however. Hen and pied harriers, the males with their stunning black and white patterns, systematically quartered their prey a few meters above the ground.  A short-eared eagle owl was literally the sundowner for the day.

Flushing out flying floricans

Next morning we headed straight north into the Bansbari range, initially through open grassland:  The piercing call of he black francolin alternated with peacock calls. Our vehicle startled a florican male by the roadside and soon enough there were three of them in flight all around us! Their white wings were a give away even from a long distance and we feasted our eyes on them, content in the knowledge that the biggest single population worldwide of this highly endangered bird is securely protected here.

Lunch was spent at the iconic Upper Bungalow at Mothanguri watching the Manas river tumble out of Bhutan into India: this forest bungalow bids fair to be ranked as one of the most scenic in India. We spent the afternoon enjoying the view and idly photographing a common merganser expertly fishing on the near bank. As we headed back to the exit, a group of Kalij pheasants spent several minutes boldly foraging on the road in front of us, impervious to our vehicles and cameras.

To round off our coverage of various habitats, we started the next morning in the thick broadleaved forest adjacent to the Manas river. Broadbills are always a magical experience for any birder: it’s a toss-up whether the silver-breasted or the long-tailed is prettier. Till you run into the red-headed trogon or the Sultan tit in the next tree! We surprised a pair of great hornbills in dense forest, and their wing beats made loud whoosh-whooshs as they took off. The puff-throated babblers were easily seen in the forest undergrowth but the cryptic Abbott's babbler was easily heard but seen just once.

After lunch, we cast a last throw of the dice in the Bhuyanpara grasslands: we were rewarded by sightings of the Indian (formerly rufous-rumped) grassbird and a Chinese (formerly white-tailed) rubythroat, with its red throat shining like a beacon in a sea of brown grass. And of course more floricans, promptly flying off on seeing us.

Most people visit Manas for the big mammals: the big three (elephant, buffalo and rhino) were in abundance and tiger pugmarks reminded us that this was a tiger reserve. The rhino population of 30 reintroduced individuals (from Kaziranga and Pobitora) has swelled to 46 and there is a healthy population of swamp deer (also reintroduced) which serves as the staple herbivore here. A far cry from the situation a couple of decades ago, when poaching was rampant and large mammals almost wiped out. Miraculously, Manas has recovered to where it was in the 1980s.

Next time someone tells you grasslands make are boring and empty, you know where to send them: with its charismatic big mammals, the Bengal florican and superlative forest birding, Manas makes for the complete package, one to rival Kaziranga and perhaps exceed it one day!

At Mothanguri, where the Manas river tumbles out of Bhutan 

Short grassland favored by the Bengal florican

On the other side of the Manas, golden langurs can be seen

Capped langur

Wild buffalo

Tiger pugmarks

Florican about to take off

A pair of male floricans

Great hornbill

Flushing out flying floricans

Fulvous-breasted woodpecker

Kalij pheasant female and male

Kentish plover

Oriental turtled-dove

Pied harrier male

Quartering its prey in typical harrier fashion

Rufous-necked laughingthrush

Short-eared owl

Short-eared owl in flight

Small niltava

Black-tailed crake

Common merganser male

Crested serpent eagle

Grey-headed woopecker by Ashok Thampi

Pale-chinned flycatcher by Ashok Thampi

Silver-breasted broadbill by Ashok Thampi

Red-headed trogon by Nikhil Bhopale

Chestnut-headed babbler by Nikhil Bhopale