Come back, birdie

RANJIT LAL

In 2014, some migratory species were recorded from Sultanpur National Park in Haryana
Winters in Delhi still witness huge arrivals of winged migrants. But perhaps not for much longer
if all they get from us are poisonous swamps, manicured parks and empty lakes
When you think of the journey they might have been through in order to get here, you might
think that we really ought to have laid the red carpet out for them. Instead, we offer them
poisonous, stinking waterbodies, polluted parks and woodlands and lakes that have all but
dried up. And yet the birds keep coming, every winter, fewer in number (and species), perhaps,
than in the previous year, but what can you expect?
Actually, the first migrants begin flying in as early as July and August. By now (mid-winter) of
course, great skeins of waterfowl, ducks and geese, long-legged storks and cranes, salt-andpepper waders, keen-eyed raptors and, last but not least, the gutsy tiny-tots would have flown

maybe 8,000 km, over vast tracts of land through the river valleys of the Indus and Brahmaputra,
followed leading lines such as river courses, mountain ranges, and the coast, and spread
themselves comfortably all over the country. They touch down on familiar rivers, lakes, tanks,
ponds, gardens, fields, meadows, parks and woodlands with pinpoint accuracy and precision
timing, year after year. And Delhi, thanks to the Yamuna, lies on one of their major flyways into
the subcontinent. Some touch down on waterbodies, woods, gardens, parks and fields in and
around the Capital for a bit of rest and recreation before heading south; others stay on for the
entire season.
Of the around 1,300 species of birds found in India, nearly 300 are said to be migratory, and of
these about 170 are NRIs. In 2014, some 70 migratory species were recorded from the Sultanpur
National Park in Haryana, which is just 1.42 sq km in extent. The park has been through its ups
and downs, but one thing seems to be clear: give birds the hospitality they deserve and they will
turn up unfailingly. The even smaller wetland Basai, just outside Gurgaon on the road to
Sultanpur, is yet another example of how a small area if suitable and left in peace can
attract masses of birds. Beyond Sultanpur lies the Bhindawas sanctuary, another quiet haven,
even if plagued by water hyacinth.
The Yamuna was, and still is a big draw for migratory waterfowl and waders in Delhi and the
Okhla bird sanctuary on the banks of the river was declared ostensibly keeping this in mind. The
capricious water levels at the barrage however, have made it an unreliable destination. It must be
confusing for the birds too, and it was reported that their numbers here were down last year. If
theres a good amount of water, you may see skeins of ducks shoveller, gadwall, pintail,
common teal, ruddy shelduck, and pochard (of various models), basking in the buttery winter
sunshine, as well as flocks of geese both bar-headed and greylag lurking among the reeds
or bobbing blithely in open water. Okhla unfortunately suffers from the major trauma of being
cheek-by-jowl with malevolently thrumming power lines, frenetic real estate development
(nudging ever closer), and of course, traffic and bridge building, which spell a dire prognosis for
its future.
Do not disturb
It really is astonishing how tolerant birds are, provided they perceive no threat: Years ago, I
remember watching large flocks of pied avocets blithely scouring the river, right beneath the
great clanging iron bridge at Salimgarh, even as trains thundered over it, pulling out of or into
Old Delhi Railway Station nearby. But if anyone took a single step beyond their comfort zone
they were up and awa0y in a trice.
It is stupefying also a little scary to see how birds of so many different species can still be
seen along the banks of the Yamuna or in the river proper as it makes its way glutinously through
Delhi, turning your stomach in the process. You wonder at the muck all these long-legged
waders, with their varying beak lengths the sandpipers, redshanks, plovers et al, and those
happily bobbing ducks would be ingesting as they rootle happily about in the sludge and
frothy guck. The sandbanks and muddy riverbank also bob and scutter with wagtails, larks and
pipits, busily snapping up tiny creepy-crawlies and worms. And its wonderful to see how well
their camouflage works: when still they vanish! On fence-posts or reeds, bluethroats and
stonechats keep watch, and amongst the reed are those astonishing tiny-tot warblers, who might
have come all the way from Siberia. And swallows, swifts and martins, both migratory and
resident, skim low over the water or do hi-jinks in the heavens, their beaks agape, snapping up
midges, mosquitoes and flies.
Water babies
One of the most popular of visiting migrants to the river has to be the huge snowy flocks of
black- and brown-headed gulls that turn up when called, (aao-aao-aao) scrimmaging noisily as
fistfuls of namkeen (!) are thrown by passers-by. In winter, their heads are white and only start

turning coffee-brown or black around February. Gulls, the world over, are one of the avian
success stories, simply because they have expanded their diet to include nearly everything edible
(which is why they flock to landfills). A slightly more edifying area for birding along the river,
lies north of the Wazirabad barrage and at the Yamuna Biodiversity Park. Here, because
apparently they prefer cleaner water, you may be fortunate to see that prince of ducks the redcrested pochard bobbing happily amongst his harem of dudettes.
While Okhlas star may be falling, it appears Najafgarh jheels star has started to rise again. The
Najafgarh drain, amongst Delhis most noxiously notorious, is apparently a relatively clean
marshy jheel before it has the misfortune of entering Delhi proper. And migratory birds have
known this for years. Usha Ganguli mentions this jheel as a wonderful birding area in her classic
A Guide to the Birds of the Delhi Area, published way back in the 70s.
The National Zoological Park near the Old Fort at one time used to host houseful crowds of
pintail, shoveller and teal on its ponds and waterbodies, but in recent years just a handful turn up
rather dispiritedly: its said the water has gone bad. Another good area being developed as a
sanctuary is the Surajpur wetland near Dadri, though here alas, development plans include the
introduction of something called forest sport.
Call time
Water birds apart, there are others that make these momentous journeys too: On lawns and in
gardens and parks, wagtails strut like prosperous landlords, and in woodland areas, the lesser
whitethroat keeps up its disapproving tch-tch call. Other little ones include warblers (usually
dun brown or grey and difficult to tell apart unless youve dedicated your life to them) and
chiffchaffs and flycatchers. Not all birds fly down immense distances from climes abroad: the
pugnacious little grey-headed canary flycatcher, which you might have met in Himalayan hillstations in summer, flies down from the mountains, and likes quiet woodland areas usually near
water. The black redstart, in formal sooty black, grey and russet, is a quiet NRI visitor to gardens
and parks though I have been seeing fewer and fewer of them every passing year.
A large number of raptors eagles, hawks, falcons and harriers et al, follow the flocks of
waterfowl, quickly dispensing with the weaklings or those tarrying awhile. A sudden commotion
on a waterbody sounding like a giant gargling usually means that a marsh harrier has
swung low and is checking out the dozing ducks, which all suddenly wake up and take off
desperately.
Most of the migrants dress in casuals in this season and this sometimes makes identifying them
especially those salt-and-pepper waders and some gulls and terns difficult. The reason is
simple: the dudes have no reason to look flashy now because theyre not courting at this time and
putting on finery is expensive and risky. But just wait till February, and they will start changing
some like the ruff into outfits befitting Shakespearean dandies.
They say global warming is one reason why fewer migratory birds are being recorded every year.
Well, birds migrate because conditions in their homeland become impossible as winter clamps
down: the ground is covered with ice and snow, insect and plant life dies out, so there is nothing
to eat. If the northern latitudes really did heat up then maybe insect and plant life would hang on,
and the birds might not feel the need to risk these immense journeys. And yet, they also tell us
that the impetus for migration is given not by weather, but the day-length or photoperiodism.
And that remains constant
As for us, in Delhi and other cities that host migratory visitors from abroad, it really is quite
simple. Drain a swamp, let a lake go bone dry (like Badkhal), spray your lawns with pesticides,
convert woodlands into manicured, pedicured parks, and the birds will take one look and just fly
on.
Ranjit Lal is an author and environmentalist

(This article was published on January 1, 2016)

Winters in Delhi still witness huge arrivals of winged migrants. But perhaps not for much longer
if all they get from us are poisonous swamps, manicured parks and empty lakes
When you think of the journey they might have been through in order to get here, you might
think that we really ought to have laid the red carpet out for them. Instead, we offer them
poisonous, stinking waterbodies, polluted parks and woodlands and lakes that have all but
dried up. And yet the birds keep coming, every winter, fewer in number (and species), perhaps,
than in the previous year, but what can you expect?
Actually, the first migrants begin flying in as early as July and August. By now (mid-winter) of
course, great skeins of waterfowl, ducks and geese, long-legged storks and cranes, salt-andpepper waders, keen-eyed raptors and, last but not least, the gutsy tiny-tots would have flown
maybe 8,000 km, over vast tracts of land through the river valleys of the Indus and Brahmaputra,
followed leading lines such as river courses, mountain ranges, and the coast, and spread
themselves comfortably all over the country. They touch down on familiar rivers, lakes, tanks,
ponds, gardens, fields, meadows, parks and woodlands with pinpoint accuracy and precision
timing, year after year. And Delhi, thanks to the Yamuna, lies on one of their major flyways into
the subcontinent. Some touch down on waterbodies, woods, gardens, parks and fields in and
around the Capital for a bit of rest and recreation before heading south; others stay on for the
entire season.
Of the around 1,300 species of birds found in India, nearly 300 are said to be migratory, and of
these about 170 are NRIs. In 2014, some 70 migratory species were recorded from the Sultanpur
National Park in Haryana, which is just 1.42 sq km in extent. The park has been through its ups
and downs, but one thing seems to be clear: give birds the hospitality they deserve and they will
turn up unfailingly. The even smaller wetland Basai, just outside Gurgaon on the road to
Sultanpur, is yet another example of how a small area if suitable and left in peace can
attract masses of birds. Beyond Sultanpur lies the Bhindawas sanctuary, another quiet haven,
even if plagued by water hyacinth.
The Yamuna was, and still is a big draw for migratory waterfowl and waders in Delhi and the
Okhla bird sanctuary on the banks of the river was declared ostensibly keeping this in mind. The
capricious water levels at the barrage however, have made it an unreliable destination. It must be
confusing for the birds too, and it was reported that their numbers here were down last year. If
theres a good amount of water, you may see skeins of ducks shoveller, gadwall, pintail,
common teal, ruddy shelduck, and pochard (of various models), basking in the buttery winter
sunshine, as well as flocks of geese both bar-headed and greylag lurking among the reeds
or bobbing blithely in open water. Okhla unfortunately suffers from the major trauma of being
cheek-by-jowl with malevolently thrumming power lines, frenetic real estate development
(nudging ever closer), and of course, traffic and bridge building, which spell a dire prognosis for
its future.
Do not disturb
It really is astonishing how tolerant birds are, provided they perceive no threat: Years ago, I
remember watching large flocks of pied avocets blithely scouring the river, right beneath the
great clanging iron bridge at Salimgarh, even as trains thundered over it, pulling out of or into
Old Delhi Railway Station nearby. But if anyone took a single step beyond their comfort zone
they were up and awa0y in a trice.
It is stupefying also a little scary to see how birds of so many different species can still be
seen along the banks of the Yamuna or in the river proper as it makes its way glutinously through

Delhi, turning your stomach in the process. You wonder at the muck all these long-legged
waders, with their varying beak lengths the sandpipers, redshanks, plovers et al, and those
happily bobbing ducks would be ingesting as they rootle happily about in the sludge and
frothy guck. The sandbanks and muddy riverbank also bob and scutter with wagtails, larks and
pipits, busily snapping up tiny creepy-crawlies and worms. And its wonderful to see how well
their camouflage works: when still they vanish! On fence-posts or reeds, bluethroats and
stonechats keep watch, and amongst the reed are those astonishing tiny-tot warblers, who might
have come all the way from Siberia. And swallows, swifts and martins, both migratory and
resident, skim low over the water or do hi-jinks in the heavens, their beaks agape, snapping up
midges, mosquitoes and flies.
Water babies
One of the most popular of visiting migrants to the river has to be the huge snowy flocks of
black- and brown-headed gulls that turn up when called, (aao-aao-aao) scrimmaging noisily as
fistfuls of namkeen (!) are thrown by passers-by. In winter, their heads are white and only start
turning coffee-brown or black around February. Gulls, the world over, are one of the avian
success stories, simply because they have expanded their diet to include nearly everything edible
(which is why they flock to landfills). A slightly more edifying area for birding along the river,
lies north of the Wazirabad barrage and at the Yamuna Biodiversity Park. Here, because
apparently they prefer cleaner water, you may be fortunate to see that prince of ducks the redcrested pochard bobbing happily amongst his harem of dudettes.
While Okhlas star may be falling, it appears Najafgarh jheels star has started to rise again. The
Najafgarh drain, amongst Delhis most noxiously notorious, is apparently a relatively clean
marshy jheel before it has the misfortune of entering Delhi proper. And migratory birds have
known this for years. Usha Ganguli mentions this jheel as a wonderful birding area in her classic
A Guide to the Birds of the Delhi Area, published way back in the 70s.
The National Zoological Park near the Old Fort at one time used to host houseful crowds of
pintail, shoveller and teal on its ponds and waterbodies, but in recent years just a handful turn up
rather dispiritedly: its said the water has gone bad. Another good area being developed as a
sanctuary is the Surajpur wetland near Dadri, though here alas, development plans include the
introduction of something called forest sport.
Call time
Water birds apart, there are others that make these momentous journeys too: On lawns and in
gardens and parks, wagtails strut like prosperous landlords, and in woodland areas, the lesser
whitethroat keeps up its disapproving tch-tch call. Other little ones include warblers (usually
dun brown or grey and difficult to tell apart unless youve dedicated your life to them) and
chiffchaffs and flycatchers. Not all birds fly down immense distances from climes abroad: the
pugnacious little grey-headed canary flycatcher, which you might have met in Himalayan hillstations in summer, flies down from the mountains, and likes quiet woodland areas usually near
water. The black redstart, in formal sooty black, grey and russet, is a quiet NRI visitor to gardens
and parks though I have been seeing fewer and fewer of them every passing year.
A large number of raptors eagles, hawks, falcons and harriers et al, follow the flocks of
waterfowl, quickly dispensing with the weaklings or those tarrying awhile. A sudden commotion
on a waterbody sounding like a giant gargling usually means that a marsh harrier has
swung low and is checking out the dozing ducks, which all suddenly wake up and take off
desperately.
Most of the migrants dress in casuals in this season and this sometimes makes identifying them
especially those salt-and-pepper waders and some gulls and terns difficult. The reason is
simple: the dudes have no reason to look flashy now because theyre not courting at this time and

putting on finery is expensive and risky. But just wait till February, and they will start changing
some like the ruff into outfits befitting Shakespearean dandies.
They say global warming is one reason why fewer migratory birds are being recorded every year.
Well, birds migrate because conditions in their homeland become impossible as winter clamps
down: the ground is covered with ice and snow, insect and plant life dies out, so there is nothing
to eat. If the northern latitudes really did heat up then maybe insect and plant life would hang on,
and the birds might not feel the need to risk these immense journeys. And yet, they also tell us
that the impetus for migration is given not by weather, but the day-length or photoperiodism.
And that remains constant
As for us, in Delhi and other cities that host migratory visitors from abroad, it really is quite
simple. Drain a swamp, let a lake go bone dry (like Badkhal), spray your lawns with pesticides,
convert woodlands into manicured, pedicured parks, and the birds will take one look and just fly
on.
Ranjit Lal is an author and environmentalist
(This article was published on January 1, 2016)