Mountfort's bird paradise
A Flight of steps up the steep slope led to the Pablakhali bungalow. We toiled up it, carrying our backpack and camera equipment. We passed a small pond by the woodland and then the white structure came into view. It is just a copy of the Mainimukh bungalow -- the same design, the same wide balconies. On the sofas laid out in the
shaded balconies, we sat down to have tea.
The view here is different from Mainimukh. Although the lake is just a few hundred yards away, it is shaded by a dense forest. On the other side, we can see the hills cascading away in various shades slowly turning from amber to blue. The morning mists must be hanging there in the far corners.
As our ears got accustomed to the absence of boat's diesel engine noise, we were flooded with a different kind of sound -- bird songs. Birds were singing in myriads of voices, reminding us of what Guy Mountfort, the famous wildlife expert, had written in his book about Pablakhali: “I stepped out on to the veranda, just as the sun was breaking the skyline, a perky Magpie Robin was singing on the rail, a White-breasted Kingfisher was sitting somnolently on the prow of a moored canoe … a long line of pond herons was passing low over the glass water. Here were birds galore.” It is here that he had recorded some of the rarest species in the world such as the white winged wood duck and forest bean goose. How many of them are left today? Shall we meet any?
We went to the edge of the balcony to appreciate the flower garden behind the bungalow, and our eyes were dazzled by a show of bright red and black. Two beautiful fire-caped tits flew in to a flower plant not more than 10 feet away from us. They danced from one branch to another leaving us dazed. Khosru finally shot back to bring his camera with the archaic 300mm Russian lens. But before he could focus the heavy thing, the birds were gone. This is the first time we saw tits at such a close distance. What a beautiful creature it is!
We resigned to the sofa after this short encounter. But we hardly had time to rest our mind -- the flowering shimul tree caught our attention. Hordes of birds and squirrels were swarming in the branches, squeaking, chittering, twittering and scurrying. A few green bee-eaters, red-breasted parakeets, a couple of racket-tailed drongos, barbets and warblers were Feasting on the flowers, some drinking nectar, some pecking at fruits. Guy Mountfort had mentioned his first encounter with a racket-tailed drongo: "When I first saw a racket-tailed drongo in flight I thought the two objects fluttering behind it were a couple of the big black carpenter bees of the region chasing it.” To me they looked like the WW-II double-tailed Michelle bombers.
It was an amazing scene the greedy eating of the birds and animals; nobody wanted to get into the others' way, nobody wanted to fight with the other species; the squirrels were nibbling at something and sitting next to them is a linated barbet, a brahmany myna, two leafbirds and some warblers. I wondered how one single tree had supported such a plethora of birds!
Across the balcony in the trees up a slope, we noticed some unusual movement of the branches. We focused our binoculars on the spot and saw some caped langurs. With blackened face and prickly furs on head, they wildly swung from one branch to another, their long tails dangling in the air. And then they vanished behind the foliage. Again they appeared and jumped across to another tree. More commotions caught our attention. A troop of monkeys were climbing up and down some jackfruit frees on the other side, their leader -- a huge alpha male with red rear -- walked with its tail up and gave us cursory glances. It looked alert and yet it did not want to show any tension. It would not take its eyes off us.
Bemused by this show of circus and arrogance, we wanted to make a little exploration around before lunch. First we walked down to the lake. It's a beautiful water body surrounded by tall trees and thick undergrowth. The vegetation was lush and colourful. Exquisite butterflies were feeding on the white, jasmine-like flowers in the bushes, they were dancing like little ballerinas. A very still, quiet reflection of the wilderness. And then we saw birds, so many of them that we stopped counting. We saw a shama, a species we find so rarely now, sitting in the thicket, its round eyes set upon us. As we raised our cameras, it flew away. We saw a pair of blossom headed parakeet sitting high on a tree and then a few blue rock thrush. Close to the bank of the lake, a monitor walked slowly, its dark body and yellow belly looked so beautiful, its forked tongue continuously darting out and withdrawing into the mouth. We heard a familiar rapid fire thuk-thuk-thuk noise a yellow-fronted pied woodpecker boring into trees for insects.
shaded balconies, we sat down to have tea.The view here is different from Mainimukh. Although the lake is just a few hundred yards away, it is shaded by a dense forest. On the other side, we can see the hills cascading away in various shades slowly turning from amber to blue. The morning mists must be hanging there in the far corners.
As our ears got accustomed to the absence of boat's diesel engine noise, we were flooded with a different kind of sound -- bird songs. Birds were singing in myriads of voices, reminding us of what Guy Mountfort, the famous wildlife expert, had written in his book about Pablakhali: “I stepped out on to the veranda, just as the sun was breaking the skyline, a perky Magpie Robin was singing on the rail, a White-breasted Kingfisher was sitting somnolently on the prow of a moored canoe … a long line of pond herons was passing low over the glass water. Here were birds galore.” It is here that he had recorded some of the rarest species in the world such as the white winged wood duck and forest bean goose. How many of them are left today? Shall we meet any?
We went to the edge of the balcony to appreciate the flower garden behind the bungalow, and our eyes were dazzled by a show of bright red and black. Two beautiful fire-caped tits flew in to a flower plant not more than 10 feet away from us. They danced from one branch to another leaving us dazed. Khosru finally shot back to bring his camera with the archaic 300mm Russian lens. But before he could focus the heavy thing, the birds were gone. This is the first time we saw tits at such a close distance. What a beautiful creature it is!
We resigned to the sofa after this short encounter. But we hardly had time to rest our mind -- the flowering shimul tree caught our attention. Hordes of birds and squirrels were swarming in the branches, squeaking, chittering, twittering and scurrying. A few green bee-eaters, red-breasted parakeets, a couple of racket-tailed drongos, barbets and warblers were Feasting on the flowers, some drinking nectar, some pecking at fruits. Guy Mountfort had mentioned his first encounter with a racket-tailed drongo: "When I first saw a racket-tailed drongo in flight I thought the two objects fluttering behind it were a couple of the big black carpenter bees of the region chasing it.” To me they looked like the WW-II double-tailed Michelle bombers.
It was an amazing scene the greedy eating of the birds and animals; nobody wanted to get into the others' way, nobody wanted to fight with the other species; the squirrels were nibbling at something and sitting next to them is a linated barbet, a brahmany myna, two leafbirds and some warblers. I wondered how one single tree had supported such a plethora of birds!
Across the balcony in the trees up a slope, we noticed some unusual movement of the branches. We focused our binoculars on the spot and saw some caped langurs. With blackened face and prickly furs on head, they wildly swung from one branch to another, their long tails dangling in the air. And then they vanished behind the foliage. Again they appeared and jumped across to another tree. More commotions caught our attention. A troop of monkeys were climbing up and down some jackfruit frees on the other side, their leader -- a huge alpha male with red rear -- walked with its tail up and gave us cursory glances. It looked alert and yet it did not want to show any tension. It would not take its eyes off us.
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Bemused by this show of circus and arrogance, we wanted to make a little exploration around before lunch. First we walked down to the lake. It's a beautiful water body surrounded by tall trees and thick undergrowth. The vegetation was lush and colourful. Exquisite butterflies were feeding on the white, jasmine-like flowers in the bushes, they were dancing like little ballerinas. A very still, quiet reflection of the wilderness. And then we saw birds, so many of them that we stopped counting. We saw a shama, a species we find so rarely now, sitting in the thicket, its round eyes set upon us. As we raised our cameras, it flew away. We saw a pair of blossom headed parakeet sitting high on a tree and then a few blue rock thrush. Close to the bank of the lake, a monitor walked slowly, its dark body and yellow belly looked so beautiful, its forked tongue continuously darting out and withdrawing into the mouth. We heard a familiar rapid fire thuk-thuk-thuk noise a yellow-fronted pied woodpecker boring into trees for insects.
Story & Photo: Inam Ahmed
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