Avijit is off to a fast start.
Laden with two camera bodies and lenses, a heavy-duty scope on a manfrotto tripod, cellphone and tiny speaker with bird calls: he is the spitting image of the professional birder. Which he is.
His first sighting from the car is a curveball.
"Siberian stonechat", I declare confidently as he trains his bins on a bird sitting chat-like on a dry stalk two feet from the ground.
"Could be a white-tailed stonechat", he demurs, "I'll take some photos..."
I am thrown off-balance. Could this really be the white-tailed stonechat? We are in my familiar birding patch near Jaipur. I've never seen this species here before.
"Should it not be showing any white on the tail", I query, clutching hopefully at the obvious ID question.
"Not always".
That sets the tone for the rest of the day.
Today we are in the outskirts of Jaipur, in the lee of the Nahargarh hills, in scrubby thorn forest. The weather has been bizarre: a bright clear dawn sky, soon warmed by the early sunlight; then almost as if a curtain has been closed, a clinging fog that allows only limited visibility. We both know that the birding may be fitful depending on the changing conditions.
Yet, we make a good start: variable wheatears are plentiful, flitting from perches on stone walls chasing insects in fallow fields; a chirpy bunch of rufous-fronted prinias, not all showing the reddish crown, but waving tell-tale white-tipped long prinia tails.
"This looks like the perfect habitat for the siberian rubythroat", says Avijit, as we search under dense bushes in open tree-speckled scrub. A bluethroat scurries around near a spill of water. And then, the star of the day, seemingly bang on cue, the siberian rubythroat!
The miraculous sighting prompts Avijit to send the car back to fetch "two birders attending the Jaipur Literature Festival". When they arrive, with the flourish of a magician he uncorks the little jewel before their disbelieving eyes. I am introduced to Jonathan and Sean. They are serious birders it is immediately obvious to me. Both are practised and patient observers. They have a single-minded, unwavering focus on the task at hand. Twitchers.
Our little hotspot is buzzing now with the fog lifting abruptly. The sudden mid-day sun has brought the birds out in droves. Buntings are plentiful: mainly white-capped; but the females, juveniles and first-winters are confusing.The occasional chestnut-eared bunting is not easy to ID in this multitude.
A couple of male common rosefinches sparkle in the sun; the females darkly-striped and adding to the bunting confusion.
Avijit thinks he has heard the house bunting and plays the call. "This could be my 900th for India".
What! At 899 he must be close to the top of the 'India listers' pecking order.
By now I have worked out that Jonathan is Jonathan Franzen. He is the highlight American author at the Jaipur Lit Fest as I know. A friend had earlier told me he was a birder. Yup, you could google the name now and discover (like I did later) that he is:
- described as the 'Great American Novelist' when Time Magazine put him on its cover in 2010
- author of several bestsellers
- famous birder and conservation expert.
But I didn't know all this when we were birding. So I'm being as blase and casual as I usually am when I'm out birding with my friends and relatives.
Sean comments that today's birding habitat reminds him so much of Australia. On hearing this Jonathan tells me, "Sean Dooley is the record holder for the maximum number of birds seen in a year in Australia".
I'm trying to get my game face on now.
"We also get the zitting cisticola here", I try. It is a common enough bird but the name sounds impressive - I think.
Jonathan adds, "that's the title of one of Sean's books .. Anoraks to Zitting Cisticola".
I try and make myself as unobtrusive as possible.
Let me add at this point that my non-birding friends and relatives know me as a bit of a bookworm. So I know I'm going to be the butt of many jokes if they get to read this blog. I mean, not only are these gents world-famous birders, but they also are best-selling authors. Man, did I screw this one up or what.
As we approach a copse of trees clothing a low rocky hillside, two raptors are flushed from cover. A shikra is bravely chasing a much larger raptor in low flight across an open field.
All of us train our bins on the birds and get good views for several seconds.
"Peregrine falcon"! In my excitement (brought on no doubt by discovering the identities of my companions) I have dashed our hopes of ever being able to ID the raptor properly. That's the thing about a suggestion. I have clearly jumped the gun.
Avijit - "could be a laggar falcon"
Jonathan - "no moustachial stripe... but it had a dark cap"
Sean - "wings appeared rather broad". Said in his soft Aussie accent (is that an oxymoron or what).
For the moment all of us think it was a large falcon. We do comment that the underbody and underwing markings were quite faint. Guidebooks are pulled out. In my defence I point out calidus in the guide and Jonathan says he is "coming around to the peregrine now..but raptors are difficult".
Another candidate being bandied about is the northern goshawk. (Later, thinking back, I would put my money on this, or on a female eurasian sparrowhawk). But we can never know for sure.
Sean is constantly scribbling down the species list in his notebook and taking the occasional photograph. Jonathan comments, "who would have thought we'd get 4 prinias in one hour today".
These are the ashy, plain, grey-breasted and rufous-fronted.
We have seen the common shrikes: southern grey, long-tailed and bay-backed. Avijit now has a smallish shrike in the scope. Perched on a barbed-wire fence.
"Brown shrike" he declares.
Anxious to get back some credibility with our celebrated guests I offer feebly, "not the habitat for the brown, maybe a juvenile of one of the smaller shrikes?"
Guidebooks opened again.
Sean - "rufous-tailed or red-backed perhaps?"
Jonathan - "I can see a rufous tail ... lovely subtle markings on the wings"
When it flies off to another perch I say, "was thinking juvenile bay-backed but its not showing any white on the wings in flight..."
Avijit - "I've got photos... we will be able to ID it later"
All too soon, the weather turns again - clouds roll in and light begins to fade quickly.
In the gathering dusk we continue clocking good birds. " We must have got 30 to 35 lifers today" our guests comment.
Sean spots a leucistic house sparrow as it prepares to roost. Unsurprisingly it is being ostracised by the other sparrows as they huddle together for another cold night.
Later, relaxing over drinks at the camp, the conversation starts to flow with the single malt that our host Udaijit has opened. Sean, in true Aussie tradition is happy with beer, while I stay with tea rather than alcohol in the hope of retrieving some lost ground and try and make the odd intelligent comment ( I hope).
Udaijit mentions that he has not been seeing the eurasian wryneck this winter.
"The call used to be my ringtone", says Jonathan with a flawless rendition.
We are being invited to stay for dinner but it appears that we have inadvertently intruded upon an 'exclusive event' at the camp: where clients pay for a special evening comprising various events - but they expect privacy.
Realising this, we decide to head back to the city.
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