I am in a terrible fret. The thing is, I found this goldmine of a birding spot about a kilometer from home, I have been there three days in a row, and now it seems I may be banned from it. My mother squarely blames me for arguing with the military guard and says I may be responsible for that entire area being shut off from civilians. I don’t think things are so bad yet. I have finally managed to ferret out my army camouflage cap and hope to appear very inconspicuous tomorrow.
Really, but how is one expected not to display some enthusiasm when one spots a pair of White-bellied Drongos, a Silverbill, a Coppersmith, an Oriole, two loverly Treepies, a pair of Grey Hornbills, an Iora, a Large Wood Shrike and then goes a little ahead to stumble upon so divine a birding spot that all IDing faculties are suspended in stupefaction. All this a stone’s throw (OK given a giant’s arm) away from where I’ve been living all my life! Surely, under these circumstances one is allowed to be a little silly?
Any way I have to go back and confirm if some of those bathing beauties were indeed Indian Blue Robins. Like I said, it was so perfect a picture that all I could do was stand and stare. It was a thickish overgrowth with a tiny stream going through it. The sun was slanting in and catching the water most beautifully. The air was sharp with birdcalls. And suddenly they swooped in, about ten of them, and raised the dust off the water. The flying water droplets were like silver beads in the sunlight and our friends were having themselves a frolic. Later they perched themselves to dry off and I thanked heaven for a day well begun.