Thanks a lot to my dear friend , Akrur Barua for editing this
Read MoreA new fish....in the pond!
I’m short of words to thank my friend Akrur Barua for editing this story for me , he shares a deep passion for wildlife along with me
Read MoreThe Hunter & the Hunted
It was 5.30 pm, the sun about to set. I was well ensconced in that small refuge I had managed to create for myself. The setting was not something out of a Rudyard Kipling book. Nor was it of the types where the great Jim Corbett lay in wait for the elusive man-eater. This was calmer, but nevertheless intense with the daily orchestra of wildlife playing the tune. The setting was Keoladeo National Park, also known as Bharatpur Bird Sanctuary. My camera had already managed to satiate its hunger with a daylong shoot of some exquisite birds – Sarus Cranes, Bar Headed Geese, Grelag Geese, Northern Shoveler, Herons, and a host of others. A photographer’s greed, however is something else, always lusting for that that extra image. And nature, it seems, always obliges
As the shadows started, I wanted to capture something grand… like some nice silhouette against the setting sun. I scoured the horizon, putting my mind off the pain on my back from scanning the scenery hunched. Just then, I heard a flutter. At first, I saw just the stork. It was a male black-necked stork, a large bird about 129-150 cm tall with a wingspan of 230 cm. It appeared to be on the hunt. Probably looking out for fish, amphibians, reptiles, crabs, and mollusks. But, with the ruckus he was creating, I realized that the stork was hunting something else. My eyes then darted to what he was chasing. “Why, that’s a coot,” I muttered to myself. Coots are small water birds that feed on vegetation, small animals, and eggs. At 32–42 cm height, the coot is much smaller than the black-necked stork
“Why on earth was the stork chasing the coot? Was it hunting? Or was the stork just chasing the coot away from a meal?” Try that I may to tax my limited reservoir of wildlife knowledge, I could not find out the reason. I was now desperate to capture these moments and get to the end of this story. Click, click, click, my trigger-happy fingers went. As I did so, I finally realized that the stork was indeed hunting. He lunged at the coot with its long beak, again and again and again. Maybe the stork did not find himself a fish that day or maybe he just saw the coot as the easiest meal close by. As the large stork kept poking the coot with his sharp long beak, it seemed like a scene right out of Gulliver’s Travels, a giant chasing a small soldier.
From the chase, I knew the coot’s game was up. It tried to run, but it could not flee from that huge stork. A few more hits from the stork’s beak and the coot stopped moving. Nature had yet again presented a mini theater in front of me. The stork started feeding on the coot immediately after he had dealt the last deathly blow. As he settled to his well-earned meal, I readied myself for the last few clicks of my camera. The hunt reminded me of my own hunger, my stomach growling after a day’s shooting without a single morsel. I put down my camera, checked the time, and decided to call it a day. A good day indeed it was. I was just fiddling with my bag when a fresh bout of noise distracted me. The show was not ever yet.
Well, well, well. Just when the stork had grabbed a few bits, he had a visitor—a female black-necked stork. It’s hard to distinguish between the sexes in black-necked storks. The only way one can probably distinguish between the two is from the color of the stork’s iris; the adult female has a yellow one while the adult male’s iris is brown. As she arrived, the female started eyeing the kill. The male, however, was in no mood to share. “Where’s all the chivalry, fella?” I thought with amusement. With the male showing no signs of sharing, the female shed her guest-like courtesy and instead, become more aggressive in her demand for a share of the meal. She barged right in, managing to get a few small bites before being shooed away.
“Will this be the end of the tale?” I wondered. But, any insult breeds determination. It was the same story with the female. Brimming with indignation, she returned again with renewed vigor, tussling with the male aggressively. While the male was busy eating his share, she snatched off the carcass, darted off with her prize leaving the male wondering what he could have done different. The day was over. I packed and sauntered off into the evening. No wonder they say persistence pays, I mused, as I waved to the guy who would drive me back to the hotel.