It was a Monday, that dreaded day when humanity sheds its liberty of the weekend and forces itself on drudgeries essential for earning the next meal and that roof over the head.
Just as I finished doing my laundry after a mundane dinner, my phone rang.
“Saurabh. It’s me. Should I call later?”
“Prashant?”
“Yeah, who else. Listen, you want to go to Chopta? I had a booking, but, must head home for a family event. You can take my place if you want.”
Truth be told, my body was battered from nearly a month of safaris. The last thing I needed was a trip to the foothills of the Western Himalayas. Come the next morning, however, like Selkirk’s infamous mind, mine too could only conjure Chopta and the treasure it held—the snow partridge. My last visit to capture the elusive bird—using my camera—had been a disaster. Maybe, I thought, the Gods were giving me another chance. And so, despite all the misgivings about my body and a fast-depleting bank account, I found myself making my way to Chopta that weekend.
The journey from Delhi is not an easy one. You must travel for about five hours by train to Haridwar and it takes another six to seven hours by car to the small birding town. I couldn’t find any sleep on the train and by the time I sat on my taxi in Haridwar, I had a premonition that maybe fate wasn’t on my side. A flat tire made me dig furiously into my packet of cigarettes, but the construction work all along the road ensured that the nicotine lost out to a throbbing headache.
I was, however, not disheartened, my mood improving as the landscape turned more soothing for the eye because just like the mind, the photographer’s eyes also leave no stone unturned. As the car slowly made its way up the hill, I was suddenly aware of the sun rising behind it with the morning dew making its last attempt to block the rays. And quickly, I brought my wide-angle lens into play.
It was evening by the time I reached my hotel. The clouds made a ruckus with frequent bouts of lighting often illuminating the night sky. Yet, I slept soundly, with my body recharged by the time my alarm rang at 4.30 AM. As I got my equipment ready for the long day ahead, I couldn’t help but notice the snow on the hills beyond. Somewhere there lay my prize.
The path to the partridge started from the Tunganath temple, its gate at a height of 9000 feet (ft) above sea level. Add another 3000 ft and you approach the area where the partridge is found. My equipment—about 12 kilograms—certainly did not make the climb easy, nor did the thinning oxygen. Nevertheless, the stunning landscape with golden sunlight enveloping the morning kept me upbeat.
It took me about two and a half hours to reach my destination. I veered a bit off track, often finding myself in about 2.5 ft of snow, and waited. After a while, I thought I heard a bird’s call. Adrenaline suddenly made its presence felt in my frozen body and I rushed towards the direction of the call. And low and behold, just around an opening, I found myself face to face with a snow partridge, the bird perhaps amused by the gawking ragged creature with a lens.
I waited a bit more, trying to get the perfect condition, including light, background, and sharpness into my frame. And as if taking pity on me, the individual leading the flock posed for me. What a beautiful bird. And what a mystic landscape. I spent quite a lot of time there, soaking in nature.
The excitement for the day was, however, not over.
As I made my way down, I suddenly found myself being summoned by a “lifer”. For the uninitiated, a lifer is a bird that you have not seen so far. For me, at that moment, it was the Wood Owl. So, off I darted towards the sound, again along an uphill trek, but this time through a dense forest. I was hungry and tired by that time, but, as any birder will tell you, such things seem superficial when you are chasing a lifer. Finally, I managed to spot the owl. Making as little noise as possible, I got my equipment in position, preparing for a good snap. But, just when I thought I was in the game, a White-throated Laughing Thrush put a spanner in my works. His ruckus was enough to force the owl from there. I waited for some time, hoping for the owl to come back. But, it was not to be. So, I packed my equipment and made for the shelter much below from where I was now. Disappointed I was, but, in a birder’s life, disappointment is what prepares you for the next trip.
In a few hours, I played the day’s events on my mind as I sat in the back of the taxi. I could see the sun playing tricks on the wide landscape—tormenting the sky and the earth with different shades of color. For a moment, I resisted taking out my camera. But, the lure was just too much.
“Can we stop for a short time? Maybe have some Maggi and a cup of tea?”
As I packed my lens after a few good shots, I felt at peace. Nature indeed was bountiful.
