Seeing the Unforeseen
I had almost, almost forgotten to write this blog post.
Its been that sort of time for the past few months. The kind where you are so focused on the next step, you almost forget to zoom out to see how far you have got already. For me, birding usually provides the much needed zooming out time so when there was so little of it, putting whatever little of it that did happen in as many words, kept on getting put off to another day.
Usually, it doesn’t take more than a phone call from my birding buddy Ashwin to make plans for our birding trips. This one took a lot longer — but as we finally got moving towards the city of Nashik, all the wait seemed worth it. I think it had something to do with the Owlet we were hoping to sight — Forest Owlet. An owl species so elusive, it was thought to be extinct from the wild for a good 200 years before it was sighted again at sporadic locations in central India in early 2000s.
Sighting owls has always been a difficult. Sighting the Forest Owlet felt like been entrusted with carrying the crown jewel from one kingdom to another. We walked around for 4 hours under the life sapping April sun, but when we finally did manage to see it, the entire show lasted for a sum total of 10 seconds. If blink and you miss ever needed an Owlsome poster figure it would definitely feature the Forest Owlet.
Sighting the the Forest Owlet was almost not meant to happen. Yet it did.
Our hearts content with the sighting, we were all but done packing out gear when our guide offered to extend the trail for another “surprise”. He sounded eerily confident to show us something we had never seen before and may not see again. So off we drove through the bylanes of the outskirts of Nashik. No bird sighting has brought as many tears in my eyes as what we saw next did. One look at the leucistic Spotted Owlet and I just collapsed on my knees. There was just too much to process for my weary mind at that moment.
Leucism is a genetic condition that inhibits melanin and other color pigments from being deposited in feathers, hair, or skin. The ability of most raptors and owls in particular to go unseen by their unsuspecting prey is their primary means of survival. To not have this very ability and yet make a niche for itself in the wild by not just surviving but thriving at that is a story of this owlet that I’ll be telling quite often to anyone willing to listen.
The entire existence of this genetic anomaly wasn’t meant to be. Yet it is.
The Forest Owlet and the “Fairy” Spotted Spotted Owlet sightings may have taken top honors in April, but a very close second was the sighting of the Indian Eagle Owl (IEO) in the middle of the city. Seeing the Indian Eagle Owl in its natural habitat of crevices in overhanging cliffs and rock faces is a sight to adore. Its camouflage game is so strong, there are frames where I have ended up discovering a second individual where both me and my gear could see only one.
With knowledge of location, comes the responsibility of protection — said no Uncle Ben ever. So, after documenting the IEOs for the first time, I now visit the place without any birding gear, least my enthusiasm and interest draws the attention of anyone passing by. Superstitions and myths have primarily shaped the relation that our society has with these magnificent birds. Unlike in the west, the owl is not a symbol of wisdom here but finds itself associated with ill-omens. Instances of chasing them away, stoning them, poaching them and harming them in indescribable ways makes one wonder who the unwise is in this case.
Sighting owls is not meant to bring any harm. Yet it does — for the owls.
April also offered an opportunity to undertake the annual pilgrimage to the tiger lands of central India. The Kanha Tiger Reserves is the largest such reserve in central India. It offers an enchanting experience of the central Indian forests, to those who coming seeking it. While the tiger show is primed for the hot Indian summers and one is rarely disappointed if the tiger is all they are looking for. The jungles of central India hold far more treasures — the striped monk is only a mascot of it all. Kanha in particular, is home to the Barasingha (Rucervus duvaucelii branderi), a sub-species of swamp deer that is endemic to the tiger reserve’s range.
Watching the majestic Barasingha graze lazily across the vast grasslands — Kanha Meadows is something I could have done the whole day. But such is the nature of tiger tourism that the safari vehicles seem to always move towards the next tiger sighting — like mosquitoes to blood. While this approach made a lot of sense when the Project Tiger was initiated in 1973/74 because more eyes on the rapidly dwindling tigers meant lesser poaching and hunting. But 50 years, 55 tiger reserves and a healthy growth rate of tiger population later one can’t help but wonder how long these eyes — now equipped with mobile phones, telephoto lens and most importantly seeking instant validation through social media are actually helping the tigers any longer. Have we reached that point where we re-imagine our idea of “tiger tourism” such that we don’t end up enabling the very outcomes that we sought to avoid!
Two lifer sightings — The Indian Vulture and the White-rumped Vulture and a first of it’s kind night safari where the headlights of the safari vehicle are the only lights allowed inside the forest were the other key highlights. The night safari in particular was an enthralling experience. As we move deeper into the forest, the vehicle stops for a brief moment to allow you to soak in the experience. As the murmur of the engine dies down you will first hear the wind moving across the top of the canopy. A few moments later you can hear your own heartbeat and then you can hear the forest breathe. It takes a jolt of the vehicle’s engine starting to bring you back from the starlit trance.
And a trance was how most of the month of May went by. Most of this year’s May went in fending off the heat, professionally and weather-wise. The resultant time crunch meant that the month almost went without a significant birding activity. Almost, because as is the case in recent years, May is also the month where I take time off to reflect on the years gone by and those ahead.
The location this year was Matheran — quite literally meaning “The Forest at the Top”. Nestled in the western ghats, this hill station was discovered and developed by the colonial rulers as a summer retreat. Tell tale signs of their presence are visible in the aging architecture here. The place we called our own for the weekend was one such bungalow, built more than 200 years back and still trying to hold on to its old world charm, even as more “tourist friendly” properties continue mushrooming every season. The nights here were graced with hoots of the Brown Wood-Owl, the mornings by the soothing calls of the White-rumped Shamas.
The setting was perfect to unwind and mull over our fit in the larger scheme of things. As the existential crisis of climate change looms large — will we be able to change ourselves to survive and thrive as a species or will we go down as yet another apex predator that convinced itself about the worst won’t happen to them and then went down seeing it all happen?
The gloom induced by May needed a breathe of fresh air and a trip to the mountains of Uttarakhand in the month after provided just that. This was not even supposed to be a birding trip, but it is cardinal birding sin to be in the mystical state of Uttarakhand and not stop by at Sattal to visit one or all of the birding hotspots there.
Onward we moved towards Binsar on a day when temperatures unheard of in the mountains continued to cause an underlying duress as we navigated the mountain roads in the shade of the towering Deodhar and Pine trees. Midway to Binsar a frantic call from one of the forest officials there informing us of an unprecedented wildfire that had already claimed four lives made us halt in the town of Ranikhet. There is a lot written by far better authors about the pristine towns of Uttarakhand. Ranikhet takes you back to those stories — winding roads, vividly colored rooftops that create a lively mosaic, the sight of snow-capped peaks on the horizon, serene temples yet untouched by the greed of consumerism and most importantly a populace that is not constantly rushing to get somewhere.
What panned over the next two days managed to convince me why impromptu done with the right company triumphs the best planned of trips. Our birding was incidental, but the joy of introducing fellow travelers to the love that is birding was not. I felt the warm embrace of homeliness and acceptance which I had not set out to seek when I got here. By the time we were on the way back it was clear that Ranikhet may not have been the place I intended to be, but it will forever be the place I will look forward to be at.
This mesmerizing day in Ranikhet was not meant to happen. Yet it did.
The trip back to south of Vindhyas was equally if not more eventful — more than 2000 kms transcended in less than 24 hours via road, rail and flight. At more than one moment the thought that this journey back home is not meant to happen kept creeping in the mind and yet here we are today.
Will our fight to survive against a rapidly changing climate be something similar?
Will we change at the tipping points or are we way past that already? The frequency and intensity of everything “extreme” on the climate front is only increasing with each passing day. Wildfires, flash flood, cloud bursts, heatwaves are finding their way into everyday vocabulary way too often. Will we be the generation that overcomes the urge to buy more, borrow more, and burn more to get somewhere or will we end up being ignorant of the deep chasm that lies ahead of us on this all-consuming path?
Let me leave you with a mosaic of creatures we share this planet with so that you can mull over how much of what we are seeing today, was indeed, Unforeseen.
Do leave a 👏 if stayed with me till here. Would love to see your thoughts on the unforeseen in the comments.
