India 2013: Going back to basics...

It seems fitting that I should be writing up my Indian trip as flurries of snow are settling on London’s clean, grey, boring streets. Back a week now and this icy blast has me clinging to the thread of holiday memories like a jumper snagged on a nail. In short, it was incredible; my first taste of Asia and India, a place where everyone (possibly) wants to fleece you and shake your hand, a place of smiles and sweat and noise, jeez the noise...gutters filled with trash on roads that go to some incredible wilderness and HEAT that has you permanently wiping sun lotion out of your eyes. It was also my first taste of birding outside Europe, something I was really looking forward to, with good reason.

In the short time I was there, I was knocked out by the diversity, of both birds as a whole and the variety within their forms. Even though I whiled away the hours in transfer at Delhi airport scanning my Helm field guide, it was exciting to be a total beginner again, mostly having to break down birds into families and go from there. Those kinds of lessons are important to remember I think. But birds were not what the whole trip was about as I was travelling with my sister and her boyfriend, for whom my interest is more a source of amusement and, possibly, concern. That said, a weird highlight of the trip for me came on the last day as I pointed out some birds calling over our heads and before I could say anything they both called out “Bee-eaters!” in unison! But we planned it so I could have a few days of indulgence at my chosen destination, Thattekad, in amongst our shared adventures. I’ll get to that, but it was inevitable from the moment I touched down in Chennai that birds would be on my radar most hours of the day, wherever we found ourselves. That explains why in literally every photo from the first few days I’m either holding my bins or squinting distractedly into the distance at some unknown avian beauty. It was brilliant.

Pondicherry, a few hours drive south of Chennai on India’s south east coast, was our first stop, or rather my first stop as Sal has been staying there recently while she conducts her PhD field research into normative somethings (far, far more impressive than I can coherently describe). As introductions to India go, Pondicherry was mercifully easy on my sleep-deprived body and I enjoyed that first afternoon walking round the oddly familiar French Quarter (it’s a former French-Indian enclave), it’s pretty streets largely free of crowds and traffic. In fact the only crowds I encountered were those of House Crows – hundreds of them swooping and squawking over the piles of rubbish strewn everywhere. On that point, I guess this was one of the hardest and strangest things my ‘western’ eyes came to terms with over the trip. Apart from our remotest excursions, litter was evident everywhere and although my visit was brief, there were few signs, that I could tell, of remorse. It was no wonder that crows and kites were the most abundant birds by far. I guess some things are just different and stuff we take for granted is a big deal elsewhere. 

House Crow (Corvus splendens) of the nominate Indian race and appearing much like an over-sized 'hooded' Jackdaw, or a slimmed down Carrion Crow

Red-vented Bulbul (Pycnonotus cafer) from the roof of the homestay, Pondicherry, India

Sticking to urban birding, a walk along the scruffy, beach-less promenade brought my first views of a soon-to-be ubiquitous Brahminy Kite drifting by; it’s rich, chestnut-brown wings contrasting with its pale, white head even in the evening sun. Smart. The next morning I woke up to a text from Dave telling me there were 35 waxwings in Nunhead, but after much deliberating I decided against going for them and took an early walk back down the front. This took me to Government Square Park where I found distinctive Common Myna’s scurrying around and singing in the trees, their repetitive song almost Song Thrush-like. This was followed by my first close-up views of bulbuls, Red-vented and Red-whiskered, with both sporting enviable punkish crown feathers. The latter, I would learn, has an equally beautiful song. Later, a Rufous Treepie glimpsed through the trees in the botanical gardens put a colourful spin on our common Magpie. It was a nice few days in Pondicherry, getting a grip on the basics before we headed west... 

Common Myna (Acridotheres tristis) looking much like a crime-fighter with its distinct yellow 'mask'

Brahminy Kite (haliastur indus)
A small, common  Kite- I got so used to seeing them soaring about, I instinctively looked for them when I got home!