Babblers, nightingales and coppersmith barbets.

I have suddenly extended my vocabulary and can now differentiate between a bee-eater and a kingfisher.

The great Shiva took us on a bird watching odyssey yesterday at 6.30 a.m. He made us plough through fields of cows and buffalo and kept shouting that we must avoid falling into the dung pile (which is what he did apparently, overcome with excitement from glimpsing a rare bird – his tourists had to haul him out). Thank God he didn’t do it again. Here in Benaulim Shiva is like a learned self-taught professor, with a wonderful gift for teaching. He has this amazing stream of consciousness that he keeps up all the time, with word association. He called to John to ‘come quick, don’t miss this, my bonnie lad, or I’ll dance the buckles off my shoes with you my Johnnie lad.’ John dutifully looked at the purple moorhens strutting through the paddy fields and we all cocked an ear to hear the nightingale sing (on Berkley Square) and within minutes we had seen a black forked tail drongo,

two kingfishers

and a bronzed wing jacana

Their huge feet help them to walk over the vegetation on shallow lakes. As we passed silk cotton bugs we saw a ruby whiskered bulbul and listened to the coppersmith barbet.

I admired the beautiful angel trumpets but was told that they were used in black magic. Their seeds, mixed with cumin seeds, make a deadly potion for a neighbour that might have given you grief. I looked at the pretty flowers with peacock pansy butterflies fluttering over them and gave them a wide berth. As we passed the large grey babbler singing in a bush, Shiva said they sing the songs of freedom, just like Bob Marley, and then we saw the red wattled lapwing saying, ‘Did he do it? Did he do it?’ and then further on we came across the sweet little rose finches and a bee-eater. It flew off in a green flash, but Shiva immediately put our minds at rest, ‘ Dinnae worry (he said in a pure Scots accent) ‘he’s no awa to bide awa, he’s no awa to leave you, he’s like a boomerang for he always comes back.’ And he did. Then he nearly had a fit of excitement, and shouted to John in a hushed electrified way, ‘come here! Johnny my bonnie lad!’ and there on the roof of a disused house was a rare, endangered forest owlet. Magic! For me the highlight of the morning was seeing SIX Golden Orioles. They sat on the top of the silk cotton tree and flew about, then later I saw three fly over some cashew nut trees. Wonderful.

Shiva gave us a lecture about how you must not instruct your children to choose a life path, but instead leave it up to them. He himself is an example of someone who is always evolving. Walking on we got a potted history of Edward 1, which went on to Henry V and  finally Henry V111. Both John and I were lost. History from years ago was suddenly being revived and in context, the number of dead at the Battle of Bannockburn was quoted, and on 23rd November 2011, ‘on this same wire, FIVE blue tailed bee-eaters were seen, but today only four are present’.  No matter, John was happy with the shot. From a calm history lesson we were suddenly in the throes of excitement again, as a HOOPOE was spied. Fairly rare and very exotic and we tried to get a good snap, but it was quite far away. We saw the sleek flight of a male marsh harrier, a black winged stork and a variety of egrets that turn orange apparently ‘when they are strutting their stuff’. Shiva needed to ‘water the grass’ and told us to not take our eyes of the two wild peacocks that suddenly appeared while he got on with it. We saw tailor birds’ nests, ants‘nests, lion ants’ holes, and got bitten by the nasty little ordinary ants. Shiva just told us to ‘keep on dancing, keep on the dance floor and don’t stay far from the dance band’. He led us through the scrub and the paddy fields all the time pointing out crow pheasants or the great coukal, as it is known , magpie robins, Indian pond herons and grey herons, the latter flying so gracefully as though out of the pages of a story book.

We got back at 9.30 and had a masala omelette for breakfast.  Both of us were quite dehydrated as the sun had risen and we had not taken water with us for our jaunt. But the experience was wonderful. Suddenly the noises and swooping of our feathery friends have a greater meaning. Up until now we had been absorbed with the kites and eagles, but suddenly kingfishers,

muniyas, yellow baya weavers all mean something. We were so enthused and full of beans that John bought me the most beautiful turquoise bracelet on the way home, from the Kashmir trader. We were horrified at our muddy feet that trailed into his shop, bringing in all the sludge of the paddy field. But at night I wore my pretty bracelet and it was the perfect end to a very ‘birdy’ day.