It's good to be alive!
by K.G.H. Munidasa
These days are glorious. The rains are no more, and everywhere is a
freshness that inspires all living creatures. It is wonderful to be out
in the morning when the air is just chilly enough to make you feel that
it's good to be alive.
There is dew on the grass, on the leaves of bushes and trees, and
thousands of brilliant droplets bedeck the giant cobwebs spanning the
tracts through the scrub.
The prinias, flycatchers and bulbuls are up earlier than usual and
singing lustily, in pleasant anticipation of a new nesting season, now
that there is no threat of rains. The sunbirds are already carrying
beak-full of gossamer to decorate their nests, being built. In the thick
foliage of trees orioles are calling incessantly. May be, they are
calling to their mates or to calm down broods of nestlings, back in
nests.
Hops
The Brown-capped Babbler hops about in the undergrowth, all the while
chanting its pri-tee-dear call, over and over again. Its greeting, does
indeed, find answer in your heart as you walk past, observing things you
would not have seen if you started your morning stroll after breakfast
at 8 o'clock. Yes, these early hours are certainly the best and eventful
to the average nature lover.
A hare springs out from behind a bush, sits on its haunches a-while
before scampering off to another place of safety. A mongoose crosses
your path, turns its beady eyes on you for a moment, and then vanishes
back into the shades.
Crest
Like a ball of red-hot iron the sun comes up over the crest of the
hill, changing the pink of the sky to golden tints. The mist that
lingered in open spaces now begins to rise like smoke from myriad
cigarettes. Soon, the moisture on the carpet of green grass dries up and
the brilliance melt away.
You hear a rustle of wings and looking up see a flight or two of
cormorants overhead, flying in formation towards the reservoir, beyond.
The line of birds swings in the air to clear a belt of tees and sweeps
down again to disappear behind a screen of branches.
Once crossing the bridge over the overflow channel, you quicken your
steps and climb up the bank covered with tall grass, listening to
bird-calls as you go.
A solitary Indian Darter sits on a snag in the margin dripping water
from its wings after an early morning swim for fish in the channel. You
come abreast of a noisy colony of Striated Weaverbird in a patch of
bulrush, where hens are busy at work in several nests, being built. In
the tops of leafless bushed close by you observe Green Bee-Eaters, a
single Chestnut-headed Bee-Eater and a few Spotted Munias. A couple of
Red-vented Bulbuls and a White-browed Bulbul are also there preening
themselves on a leafy branch below.
You spot a Brahminy Kite circling in the air above the water, while
you attempt to climb the bund at a run and reach the top panting for
breath. The scenery from the bund is breathtaking, and it gives you an
uninterrupted view of the water-spread and the surrounding jungle. Your
binoculars pick out a line of Whiskered Terns in the hazy distance,
skimming the water like a silver ribbon trailing in the breeze.
Descend
On impulse you descend the incline to the water's edge, walk along
the margin for two hundred metres and stop at an expanse of scrub
jutting into the reservation, alive with the songs of birds.
Two Gold-fronted Chloropses involved in a duet of singing from trees
far-apart, are shattering the stillness of the morning, while a
White-bellied Drongo perches in a branch in between in silence, while
intently watching the ground below for insect prey. A smallish bird
flying up the path some distance ahead settles on a twig giving you
split-second gaze to identify it as a Brown Flycatcher, a Himalayan
migrant.
You hear a quaint warbling, which the bird books describe as the
jingling of a bunch of keys, and presently looking up see an
Orange-breasted Blue Flycatcher, It dives at a passing fly, thereby
flushing a Blythe's Reed-Warbler out of its hideout. Not long after, a
Brown Shrike in the vicinity announces its presence by a chattering
note.
You are now in heavy jungle, where all is still buried in gloom under
the tall trees, as old as time. A long-tailed Jungle Robin or Shama
gives out a trill and follows it up with a whole set of bars of its loud
singing. This is promptly answered by another of the species, deep
inside the jungle, which in turn animates a Stock-billed Kingfisher
vocalize with its loud, chattering laugh ke-ke-ke-ke-ke. Meanwhile, from
far away, the whi-whip, whi whip call of a Bay-banded Cuckoo, an
occasional straggler in the area, comes to your ears, floating in the
breeze.
A troupe of Torque Monkeys in a tree are peacefully feeding on the
tender leaves, and you notice that some of them are expectant mothers,
while a few already cuddling new-born babies. How bountiful the world
can be and how benevolent is Nature to provide feasts as these to the
tired eyes and disturbed mentality!, you begin to imagine.
Position
Presently, you take up a position under a spreading Ehela tree,
ablaze with clusters of golden-yellow flowers, and revel in the solitude
and the comfort of the carpet of grass under you. A pair of Red-wattled
Lapwings which showed much excitement the moment you arrived, now
settles down to a quiet family life, realizing that you mean no harm.
In a mixed feeding flock rowing through the forest canopy above you
observe Little Minivets, pairs of Orange Minivets and Small White-Eyes,
a Wood Shrike, a solitary Grey Tit, and Common Ioras with Small
Flowerpeckers in attendance.
You suddenly realise that the sun is high up in the heavens and think
of your belated breakfast, and make for the road by a shortcut across a
grazing ground,
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