January wanderings on ECR

 Jan 10th 2024

Indian Maritime University Recce visit - eBird Trip Report

50 species not counting the warblers and other scrub birds that we did not have time to focus upon.  So here's a rhyme to celebrate.

There was once a trio of MNSers

Nothing in common, but all birders

To IMU we drove

And found a treasure trove

A marsh full of Warblers and Plovers.

There were Egrets and Pelicans galore

Garganeys, Pintails, Ibis and more

so much joy and delight 

Spoonbills in flight

Oh wait!  Godwits in 100s, furthermore!

Then the dogs, who felt ignored

Into the marsh, they  crashed, quite bored

The Godwits flew off

And the Lapwings did scoff

“Did you do it”, they called, and soared.

And how can I forget those Grey Francolins, endearing

Across the road they went. to the edge of the clearing

I counted seven

Quite a procession

And all through our walk we heard them calling.

Openbills flew across along with Painted Stork

Drongo, Coucal, Treepies did disembark

A Roller flashed blue

And the Kingfisher flew

Oh that sweet call - a Jerdon’s Bush Lark!

Powder Puffs played host to many Purple Sunbirds aglow

A Solitary, stock-still Thickknee in the scrub below

We rounded the corner

And there found a charmer

An Oriole above, a flash of sunshiny yellow.

And then as a finale, on a faraway stone

A raptor for sure, that did our goodbyes postpone

A Falcon, a Peregrine

Its claws it did preen

Enjoying the sun and solitude, but no not alone.

We will be back at IMU, that is for sure

The AWC will be a joy and a sinecure

When we go birding

The uncertainty is rewarding

And the company brings laughter in good measure.

And here are the photos:

From Sunbird

From Ramesh

Bauhinia

Rosy Milkweed Vine

Powder Puff - Calliandra

The Miyawaki Method

I wonder if the Late Mr Miyawaki  thought that his method would become a one-size-fits-all?  I think he did his work for the temperate forests of Japan, and maybe it makes sense in some other countries with similar climactic conditions?  

It is definitely not suited to TDEF areas of India, which is a large swathe of the subcontinent.   And the definition of what is "native" - should include grasses and scrub, one would think.  

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How Mr Miyawaki Broke My Heart

Fazal Rashid and Somil Daga

Representative image of a ‘Miyawaki forest’. Photo: BemanHerish/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 4.0

It was half past midnight as we peeled our eyes off our computer screens. My colleague and I  leaned back to discuss whether the jhadber – a wild cousin of the common ber – is a ‘shrub’ or a ‘sub-tree’. “It does grow tree-like in Delhi and westwards,” I said. From the process documents we’d learnt that the ‘shrub layer’ was supposed to grow to a maximum of ‘human height’, no taller. We looked up the global average for human height. Fair enough. Glossing over its ecological complexities, we pronounced the jhadber a ‘shrub’ and moved on. Next step: to calculate how many jhadber saplings we’d need to ensure it constitutes exactly 8-12% of our so-called ‘native forest’. Apparently, the 8-12 range is the prescribed percentage of shrubs in forests across India (perhaps even the world). 

This was one of the first times we were creating a ‘native forest’ on our laptop screens. We felt like we’d found our ikigai. This work demanded meticulousness and a calculator. We had been given a process and we were going to follow it to the tee. We ensured that our ‘canopy layer’ – defined as ‘the tallest trees in the local forest’ – stayed firmly between 15-20% of our total plantation. We also went to great lengths to make sure our ‘sub tree layer’ – defined as ‘trees which are taller than human (sic)’ but still small compared to ‘normal trees found in forest (sic)’ – stayed exactly at 27.5%, no more, no less. This was because we wanted to give a little extra weightage to our ‘tree layer,’ which was defined ‘based on the average height of trees in your geography.’ 

Our spreadsheet planting complete, we moved on to soil. The process doc instructed us that ‘forest creation’ goes hand in hand with ‘soil creation’. A jar test result confirmed that our site’s soil was a sandy loam. Apparently, this was not good enough, so we needed to add 4 kgs per square meter of ‘perforator material’ in the form of wheat crop residue. Nor was our soil ‘water-retentive’ enough, so we’d need to add cocopeat (trucked in from Kerala) as a ‘water retainer’ material. Add to this cow manure and 1 kilolitre of jivamrit (a gobar and gomutra based liquid fertilizer) and voila: these ingredients would be mixed in approximately 200 hours by the long arms of a JCB earthmover to produce an instantly teeming ‘forest soil’ into which we’d plant the carefully chosen ‘layers’ of our ‘native forest’ all at once. It was about 2 am by now. We were done; we’d run the numbers; we were ready. We said arigato to the process files and lay down to sleep, eyes twitching slightly due to the prolonged laptop glare. 

We city boys had found our ikigai and we were out to save the world, one tree at a time. Best of all, a certain Mr Miyawaki – a Japanese botanist – seemed to have provided us with a way to do it: a “forest creation process”. This method promised an insta-forest: a rapidly growing plantation that leapt straight towards a climax ecosystem. We’d avoid all the gradual stages of ecological succession. Climax sans foreplay – that’s exactly what we needed. This method also promised speed. Apparently these ‘forests’ grow at a breakneck pace, no less than a bullet train slicing its way into the future. All of this sounded nice and marketable: grow a forest with Japanese speed and Japanese efficiency. This is what we were trying to sell to the CSR wing of one of India’s largest gutka companies. They wanted a ‘green belt’ around the bulging waistline of their massive glass-and-steel head office in a Delhi satellite city. We were out to sell them the silver bullet of the Miyawaki method of forest plantation. 

The natural jungle of the Thar Desert is a shrubland called ‘Roee’, a climax ecosystem without any trees! Photo: Arati Kumar Rao

Luckily, that project never came through. Our work at an ‘urban farming’ start-up in Delhi led us to this Miyawaki business. We mostly made kitchen gardens but our clients’ requests to plant native trees in their fortress-like farmhouses foisted us into the heady dealings of the professional tree-planting world. This was 2018 and India’s Miyawaki pioneers had just made their process open source. New non-profits – many with names like iTree, MeTree, and MyTree – were mushrooming all over the city, each trying to net the lakhs of CSR funds floating around. We were also about to enter the UN Decade of Ecosystem Restoration and nothing made us happier than to have a set of Excel sheets that would automate the ‘forest creation’ process. With this file in hand, we could avoid the slow process of engaging deeply with the nuances of our local ecology and landscape. We could become overnight native forest experts! What else could we ask for? With vaulting ambition, we leapt into the fray.

At the time, we were beginners in matters related to ecology. We were bootstrapping at the urban farming start-up, helping grow gajar and mooli on rooftops in Delhi’s dome of smog. We had picked up tree spotting as a hobby and soon realised the paucity of native trees in the city, and even more so of nurseries that focus on native plants. So we were immediately lured towards the Miyawaki method by celebratory articles and videos on a few goody-two-shoes, ‘better’ news websites. Who wouldn’t want to create a ‘forest’ that promised 10x faster growth, 30x more carbon sequestration and 100x more biodiversity than any other method of plantation in the world? It sounded too good to be true (and didn’t seem to require much work either).

No sooner had we started dipping our toes into the Miyawaki method, than a 200-acre ecological restoration project in Rajasthan fell into our laps. Our brief was simple and direct: Jungal bana do (Make me a jungle). We tinkered with our Miyawaki forest-making Excel sheet once again, punched in the numbers, and saw the material quantities and costs for this project shoot through the roof. We would have required tens of thousands of tons of manure and wheat crop residue; an Olympic-size swimming pool full of jivamrit, thousands of earthmover-hours, and over 2.4 million plants! Something didn’t make sense. 

We placed our calculators back on the table again. We couldn’t yet put our finger on it, but something felt wrong. When we tried to imagine the visual effect of this planting scheme, our minds got entangled in a dense thicket, unlike anything we had seen on our wanderings in Rajasthan. Perhaps we’d only seen highly degraded landscapes, chewed thin and scanty by endless hordes of goats and sheep. But, if a ‘climax forest’ were truly so cramped and impenetrable, where did any of our grassland and scrub fauna – the gazelle, the blackbuck and the ground-nesting bustard – live? Were they originally monkeying around in a dense woodland? When our calculator coughed up these gargantuan numbers, we felt like we were beating around the wrong bush and unable to look at reality as it were. We needed to seek alternative advice. 

An open natural ecosystem with grasses and herbs covering the entire ground, with trees and shrubs spaced wide apart. Nothing akin to a Miyawaki plantation.

We knew of Pradip Krishen from his book Trees of Delhi. We’d also heard that over the previous decade, he had ‘rewilded’ or ecologically restored a large tract of rocky desert in Jodhpur. We timorously contacted him about our site near Jodhpur and he immediately called us over for a chat. He was forthcoming and relaxed and he told us something along the lines of, “All you need to do, boys, is to really get to know your plants, study the soil and moisture regime at your site, find an intact ‘analogue site’ nearby that has the same characteristics as your site, and carefully make a note of all the plant species growing there and how they’re growing in relation to each other spatially. Then, bring back the seeds of these plants to your site and start a nursery, and plant the seedlings in a manner that resembles their natural arrangement on your reference site. Or at least as close as possible to that. And remember: don’t forget your grasses!” 

We looked at each other with our mouths agape. This sounded quite the opposite of our one-size-fits-all Miyawaki planning methods. Yes, the Miyawaki system does emphasise native species but it ignores ecological niche: the idea that species are adapted to very specific site conditions. For example, dry rocky slopes support a very different community of plants when compared to low-lying moist valleys. Calcium-rich or saline soils result in their own specialized suite of plants. But the Miyawaki system’s formulaic method ignores these subtleties, making generalised lists of native plants and shoving them all together in heavily manured soil. Add to this the heavy watering they recommend in the first two years and voila: the plants that tend to dominate Miyawaki plantations – at least the ones we’ve seen in North India – tend to be those that like nutrient-rich, moist situations like the desi babool. In fact, this is what the Miyawaki system does: create a specific ecological niche suited to plants that like deep, nutrient-rich soil and lots of moisture; it does not create a biodiverse community of grasses, wildflowers, shrubs and trees, each provided with the kind of open living room they prefer.

Khejri trees space themselves wide apart in sandy habitats in western Rajasthan to compensate for low nutrient and water availability in loose, sandy soils. Their roots spread far and wide, and go up to 30 metres deep to help them survive in this hot, unforgiving environment. Photo courtesy: Pradip Krishen

And so, after earnestly jumping on, we alighted from the Miyawaki bandwagon. We took a plunge into the local ecology and began doing field trips to learn about all kinds of plants: seasonal wildflowers; annual grasses; shrubs; lots of tiny things like lichens and, of course, trees. We climbed them to look closely at their flowers or to collect seed; knelt down to photograph tiny inflorescences; peered through a hand lens to look at minute grass florets. We troubled botanists to help us identify everything we were seeing. It was a slow and arduous process, but we began to develop a sense of connection to the plants and landscape. And to the local people that lived in them. This was exactly what the Miyawaki system – with its spreadsheets and formulas – ignores. Creating ecologically restored landscapes – let’s call them ‘native forests’ – demands that we slow down and peer closely into a landscape’s past and present conditions; understand its unique ecology and our role in degrading it; and then work with local communities to find ways through which ecological integrity can be restored. Japanese speed and efficiency have no role here. 

Also Read: Why the Miyawaki Method Is Not a Suitable Way to Afforest Chennai

As we went on, it didn’t take long for us to realise that in all our project sites, which lie in the semi-arid and arid parts of northwestern India, the natural forest (for the most part) is an ‘open’ forest with trees spaced apart, much like in a Savannah. Areas between trees are dominated by shrubs, grasses, and annual wildflowers that only live for a few months every year. We started understanding plants’ ecological niches: the very specific intersection of soil type, moisture regime and aspect in which those species really thrive. We learnt which plants are picky: they demand a specific soil mineral – like lime kankar or salt – to grow happily. Indrokh (Anogeissus sericea var. nummularia), for example, grows primarily in calcium-rich, nodular soils along seasonal streams. Some others are pioneers, like Daimal (Tephrosia falciformis). Daimal is among the first shrubs to germinate on a newly settled sand dune, and the moment other plants find a footing on the dune, it disappears. The Miyawaki system leaves absolutely no room for such nuances.

Earlier this year, we visited a three-year-old Miyawaki ‘native forest’ close to Jaipur. It was a long, thin strip of impenetrable green mass about as wide as a tennis court, abutting a bustling industrial area. A linear path cut through. As we entered, we were in the shade and the temperature fell. Not really what we wanted on a cold winter morning. Plants comfortable in deep, moist situations like the desi babool, moringa, siris and lasora dominated the canopy. The rest, at least the ones we managed to identify through the thicket, were hunkering below, assuming lanky forms, unlike anything we’d seen in natural open situations.

Some looked so different we struggled to identify them but this ‘forest’ was just too thick to get any closer to them. We felt dispirited, our curiosity subdued. This was straitjacketed wilderness at its worst: a veritable botanical zoo, but a badly designed one that created neither beauty nor allowed plants to express their real character. Here they were, the caged plants, packed like sardines by the human need for abstract formulas and processes. We were done; we’d seen the process and its results; we walked out feeling meh.

The Miyawaki forest we visited in Jaipur, with thin, lanky stems of trees, and the glaring absence of grasses and herbaceous annuals that form a key part of this ecosystem.

Just as we were exiting, we saw it. A few silvery, pale green stems, looking much thinner than usual, scrounging for sunlight. It looked as though this prostrate plant was attempting to drag itself out of this so-called forest. Surely this couldn’t be kheer kheemp (Sarcostemma acidum)? We leaned in a little closer and broke a stem. Milky latex oozed out. It was. Kheer kheemp is one of the few large succulents found in rocky habitats in western India. It looks like a starburst of pencil-thin pale green stems. The first time we saw a kheer kheemp in the wild was after a strenuous four-hour hike up a steep hill in the Aravallis near Sikar. As we reached the peak, we spotted it, right at the top. It resembled a massive terrestrial sea anemone with its long pale tentacles waving in the wind. It looked like the mountain had dreadlocks and this was its song of freedom. We stood there a moment in awe of this being that was showing us a glimpse of the sublime in one of the most inhospitable places you can imagine. But Kheer kheemp thrives in such conditions. Its roots are able to exploit thin, deep cracks in rock, and it photosynthesizes with its green stems. But in the Miyawaki forest, it was planted in a deep, loamy, heavily-irrigated soil under thick shade. A mighty shrub that clothes steep, rocky cliffs reduced to a puny, inconspicuous, sorrylittle plant. A friend once counted over 30 butterflies foraging on a single kheer kheemp in flower. Here it would probably never flower; it likely would not even survive.

Kheer kheemp, with pale stems, growing in sheer rock, in Zenana Gardens (Jodhpur). Photo courtesy: Pradip Krishen

The ironic thing about the Miyawaki system is that it’s wildly unreasonable, illogical and inappropriate. But it seems like we live in wildly absurd times where common sense is no longer common. Let’s do a little thought experiment: a Yemeni ecologist named Mr Mian Wali studies his local ecology over decades and arrives at a ‘system’ – a formula – that enables him and his team to easily restore their degraded ecosystems. Could you imagine an Indian businessman bringing Mr Mian Wali’s ‘system’ to India to help us restore our degraded landscapes with Yemeni effectiveness? We don’t mean any offence to Yemen, but this just sounds ridiculous. Then why have we let another Indian businessman convince us that we need a Japanese system to grow our native forests? Perhaps because we’re historically amenable towards Japanese speed and efficiency. (Not sure why either of these has any bearing on ecology.) Perhaps it’s an indicator of how deeply divorced contemporary Indian culture is from nature. Perhaps, the modern Indian mind is denser than Miyawaki plantations themselves? What’s clear is that many government agencies, NGOs and hubris-filled youth (like our earlier selves) have latched onto it as an easy way to make money and plant trees without needing to understand the nuances of ecology and biodiversity at all – and cause lots of damage in the process! How are we going to stop this Miyawaki mania? By slowing down and actually forming a connection with plants, landscape and local communities, but nobody seems to have the time for this, for such are the times we live in.

Fazal Rashid and Somil Daga are ecological gardeners working in Central India and Rajasthan. You can write to them at fazalrashid@gmail.com and somildaga@gmail.com

Mishmi trip summary by Hrishu Aravind

Hrishu was the only minor/child on our trip, and gamely put up with our ways, adding a wry comment here and there.  (All others, children at heart, yes yes.)

This is such a beautiful summary - that I want it here, so I can refer to it at anytime.  Added a few pictures here and there.  (Picture captions and sarky comments are mine, so please do not blame "Kutty" (as Raja called him).

MNS Mishmi Hills and Assam Trip Report

September 30 – October 09, 2022

I woke at 1:30 am (to catch the flight for the trip), not too sleepy to be excited. I had jumped at the chance to go on this trip. I mean, initiation into serious birding with a trip to the Northeast?! Two flights, a magnificent view of the Brahmaputra, and 9 hours later we reached Dibrugarh airport.

Brahmaputra Views from Flight 2 - Kolkata to Dibrugarh

Day 0: We were welcomed by Mr Hiranya, one of our tour managers. Each of us were greeted with a traditional gamchha by our car drivers. Vijay uncle had already assigned us into groups and to cars, so all that remained to be done was to board the car. It was a four hour drive from Dibrugarh to Roing. Mr Probin Hatibaruah, our bird guide, joined us on the way. 

Tea plantations once we left Dibrugarh

After a stop for lunch, we reached Bhupen Hazarika Bridge, where we had been assured we would see vultures. We did indeed see them. There were about 10 to 15 individuals each of White rumped vulture and Himalayan griffon vulture. I spent a very happy 15 minutes watching them soar from an unknown position and circle down into the grass. It was quite a spectacular way to start the trip. 

Spectacular shots by Suresh.  There must have ben a carcass in the distance, and the area was like a busy airport, as these magnificent large birds circled and landed.  Once they landed, I could not see them.  They are one of the largest Gyps

Once again, Suresh.

The river and bridge were spectacular.  I loved this patch of grass, in full flower, in the middle of the Lohit.

Sadiya, Assam, on the other side of the bridge - where we stopped for chai.

We all met Probin da at the tea stop.

Arunachal!

A first glimpse of stilt long houses.

The hills!

We reached Yatri Niwas (our hotel in Roing) at about 4:30 PM by which time it was already getting dark. We were met by Mr Pralay, and a flock of Eurasian tree sparrows. After settling in we left for the other base - Dibang Valley Jungle Camp. After a mothing session we had our dinner, and retired for the day. 

Yatri Nivas by night with a panchami moon. (Navaratri week, remember.)

One of the moths we saw that night - see how well it goes with Yuvan's veshti border. The said veshti was burnt by the end of the night.

Day 1: I woke up at 4:30 AM and was surprised to find it bright. We met Mr Jibi Pulu, and left for his camp to learn about his work to save Lower Dibang Valley from a Hydroelectric project. A slightly harrowing drive - five stream crossings - later, we reached the community conserved area created by Jibiji. 

After our breakfast of bread sandwich and puri, we entered the land of giant wood spiders. They were ever-present along the side of the road and made huge webs that caught the sun beautifully. 

Beautiful webs, strung across and above our paths.

Giant wood spiders everywhere, undisturbed webs, marvels of symmetry.

With a catch as well.

Avian fauna was surprisingly nonexistence, but the plethora of butterflies ensured they were not missed. We saw a White dragontail, Orange oakleaf, Golden birdwings, and other species like sailor, bluebottle, and several Mormon species. The most common butterfly was the Large Yeoman. 

Sailor on Suresh's camera.

The camera was busy capturing the Yeoman

The views at the end.  Read about Speed Dialling confusions here.

The endemic forktail which got Yuvan all excited.  A beautiful little butterfly which was busy mud puddling.

All these were seen while walking on the track through tall evergreen forest and, for a short while, grassland. We got to wade through two streams but turned back on Jibiji’s advise. Jibiji told us traditional Mishmi tribal stories of Gibbons, tigers and takins on our return walk. 

It was hot when we returned to the camp, and we spent the afternoon under the shade - one set under that green verandah and another on the opposite side under the trees.

We saw an Oriental honey buzzard during lunch. We left for Sally Lake (for tea), doing birding on the way. The notable sightings were Emerald dove, Blue throated barbet, and Sparrowhawk. 

Suresh captured this beautiful Birdwing on the return.  There were many flitting through the Rees, looking like birds, so huge were they.

The flowers they were nectaring on.

And the Popinjay we saw at regular intervals too.

Sally Lake

At Sally lake the only bird I saw was a Long tailed minivet, and that was the last action of the day. 

Sally Lake - a beautiful little natural lake, which one accesses above, and see the lake and the woodlands around. We were tired, and there was a rather delicious tea that became favourite with the group.

Prayer flags stretched across, and away from the chatter and laughter of our group, the lake was serene, but very quiet, no tweets and chirps, very odd.

there was no one besides us at the lake.  We were happy and tired.  Sat around on the benches and then trooped into our cars and headed back.

Tiwarigaon trails Day 2: The plan for the day was to do roadside birding on the Tiwarigaon trail. The road travelled through dense evergreen forest with tall trees and fishtail palms. 

Every morning we saw a family of ducks either waddling besides the road, or bathing in the little puddles in the road.

A reluctant piggie being taken for a walk- a common sight, but quite amusing on our first morning drive.  

We began the day by seeing a Common buzzard. We saw Grey treepie, Long tailed sibia, Streaked spiderhunter, and Orange bellied leafbird, all before the road went into real dense forest. We also saw a flock of Russet sparrow which we mistook for Rose finch initially. 

Buteo buteo - Common Buzzard - Ravi's picture

Sheila's spectacular shot of the Common Buzzard in flight. I wonder if this is the winter visitor or the resident Himalayan subspecies?

At a nice viewpoint, Probinda pointed out the rivers visible. We had our breakfast then, and I spotted a Crested serpent eagle. 

The river valley with all the rivers.

White Bauhinia on our walk.  The vegetation was "tropical evergreen", at this height.  Several Terminalias and Albizzias

On our drive to the next stop, we heard Hoolock Gibbons and one of the drivers spotted the troop. After a bit we saw them on the opposite slope. One gibbon demonstrated his swinging prowess. A little further another troop treated us to a concert. We couldn’t spot them but we did see a White throated fantail. 

Some of the cars hadn’t stopped and missed the gibbons but they saw several small forest birds and a Mountain hawk eagle. After we joined them, we saw Nepal fulvetta, Hume’s bush warbler, Grey chinned minivet and Small niltava among others. 

Much to Yuvan anna’s delight, the butterflies had come out now that it was hotter. Birdwings we found aplenty, as well as the Red lacewing, Paris Peacock and others. That portion of the day was devoted mostly to butterflies, though we did see the Little spiderhunter and heard the Rufous necked hornbill. 

A stick insect on the roadside led to much "Q&A".  Arjun asked "how do you know its an insect?".  Yuvan says with rolling eyes - it has 6 legs.  Arjun persists (and I had to say I agreed with Arjun) - it could be a stick with 6 branches.  Yuvan gave up and walked away.  The said stick insect walked, at this point, and the argument was settled.

The new Anini Road and viewpoint

The new Anini road is not open for traffic, there is blasting still going on. The hill and rubble looked so fragile.

So while behind us was a blasted and bleak hillside, on the other side was this.  The beautiful grass flowers and the valley below.

In the afternoon we drove to the new anini road. As we were driving Probinda saw a Parrotbill. We heard it but couldn’t spot it. We also saw a Sultan tit. At the new anini road I was surprised to find out that Grey wagtails have a lot of yellow plumage. We had a great view of both male and female Blue rock thrush, and the sunset. 

3:57 PM - the clouds, hills and river below catching the light.  It was a time for pictures, just breathing in the scenery and being humbled by the river valley.

4:47 PM - a blaze of glory above, but dark shadows below.  For some reason I dreamed of the Kaziranga floodplains that I had seen a couple of years earlier.

Cicadas in our dinner and other stories.

Jia Grasslands

Day 3: I woke at what had become my usual wake-up time, ready to see Parrotbills. We were going to Jia grassland to try and spot them. We were unsuccessful. We heard the call but couldn’t spot the bird. We did see the Stonechat, a few Doves and some lovely flowers and dragonflies. Probinda told us about the Parrotbills and how they need three types of grass to survive, and about gibbons. We made our way to a river where we saw White rumped munias. I saw a Marsh babbler (Probinda identified the call). We returned for breakfast during which we saw a Brown shrike. 

The seeds of the grass - beautiful picture by Ramesh.

Hanging back, to go "around the corner", and I saw this - Is it a Common Batwing?

Our next stop was Sally Lake. On the way however, my car (which had Vijay uncle, Ramesh uncle and Yuvan Anna) turned off to the Riwatch museum, which Jibiji had recommended we visit. Jiten bhai (our driver) managed to do a full 360 degree turn when we saw a signboard that said “Monday closed” but decided to continue. Vijay uncle was successful in having the museum opened and we saw Idu Mishmi weapons, headgear and other cultural items. 

Sally Lake again

After we finally reached Sally lake we found it to be a moth paradise. After photographing the moths everyone returned to their rooms. 

My father and I took a walk around Dibang valley jungle camp before lunch and saw several butterflies, including a Common palmfly. 

After lunch, Probinda led us on a walk around the camp. We spotted Maroon oriole, White rumped needletail, Spangled drongo and, best of all, a snake - the Mountain keelback. Around 5:30, we left for sally lake again, this time for a mothing session. The morning’s moths were still in the same position. The light attracted more cicadas than moths but it was an interesting half hour nonetheless. 

Tiwarigaon trail again - further explorations of the Mehao Wildlife Sanctuary

Day 4: Having got 20 more minutes of sleep than I expected (the delay in leaving was because of a water problem) I was well rested for the day’s birding. It was a cold and overcast day. We were going to a place called 40 km point and would bird while walking back. It was 1800m high and the vegetation appeared a little different. 

6am - Tiwarigaon and beautiful mist and hills.  Magical and mystical. 

The Gaon was always shut.  Or maybe we were always crossing it at a "shut" time. But the layers of hills and the mist always drew my eyes away from the village.

I think this is the Indian chestnut - "Hingori" - in Assamese.

Every step had wonders like this.  At this height, different vegetations

How to not photograph at every turn?  Honestly, I did not miss the birds, and was too distracted to focus on searching for them.

There were more orchids, ferns, and climbing plants. Some notable birds we sighted in the morning were : Himalayan bluetail, Yellow bellied fantail and several Yuhinas. 

Chekopani bridge - breakfast and rain

As we reached Chekopani bridge (where we had our breakfast) it began raining. Despite that, we saw Plumbeous water redstart, White capped river redstart and Little forktail at the bridge. 

Plumbeous Water Redstart - A lovely photo by Meera

Plumbeous Water Redstart - Photo by Ravi

White capped river redstart - Photo by Ravi

Photo by Ravi - Little Forktail - My lifer.  And my first forktail.

Each of us on our own journey of discovery and delight - Photo by Ramesh.

To get out of the rain and the mist which had rolled in, we drove down and (once we were out of it) began birding again. We spotted Scarlet finch, Red tailed minla, two Sunbirds, Grey headed canary flycatcher and Beautiful sibia. We also saw the Mountain bulbul and Blue throated barbet. 

Scarlet Finch I did not see - Photo by Meera. (one of the many birds I missed as I stared at undergrowth and other such things.)

Further down the Anini Road. A bridge across the river was coming up.  Rubble everywhere, uphill.

Beautiful stones like this ripped from above, and lying exposed.  I mused by how many people will benefit from the bridge.  Was there a better way to do it, though?

Yuvan and Hrishu up on the hill side watching the mud puddling butterflies.

After lunch we left for the new anini road; however this time we were going further than we had two days ago. We found a butterfly-mudpuddling spot on the anini road, and Yuvan anna refused to budge from there, so our car followed the rest minus one person. The area near the bridge had fantastic views, but the only bird we saw was a Collared treepie. When we picked up Yuvan anna later, he showed us both White and Green dragontail butterflies. 

Usha says she just gasped when she saw this moment - discovered by Meera.  Paris Peacocks mud puddling - Photo by Meera

Meera aunty had seen another mudpuddling site and had told the group. We stopped there and found more than half a dozen Paris peacocks and a couple of Yeomans and Bluebottles. I returned to my room dazed from the butterfly sightings. 

Mayudia Pass breakfast encounters here

Day 5: I found that it can be dark in the mornings in Mishmi, when I woke up at 3:15. The plan for the day was to go to Mayodia pass. Unfortunately the only birds I saw were a White and a Grey wagtail. They were the only birds who came out on a day in which only demented penguins should be out and about. It began to rain during our drive and was quite heavy by the time we reached Mayodia. We took shelter in a two room hotel (maya hotel). The grown-ups drank tea while I assuaged my hunger with biscuits - breakfast being in the one car (which also had my dad) that had gone ahead. Eventually the cars’ passengers joined us and we ate. 

Yuvan anna had been talking to the locals in the kitchen about climate change and we learnt that snowfall had reduced over the years. I ventured out after breakfast and got soaked by a horizontal spray of rain. I went to the kitchen to warm myself at the fireplace/stove and found others with the same issue. Yuvan anna’s attempt to find out what wood the fireplace was made from ended in confusion and laughter - “ye konsa ladki hai?” Gayathree aunty fared better and translated the reply, which had Yuvan anna wondering whether to laugh or cry - “it comes from a tree.” We left Mayodia and returned to our rooms because the rain wouldn’t let up. On our way back the breakfast car got a puncture (thank goodness it didn’t have lunch) which delayed them. 

After lunch a group played the wilderness game and I spotted a moth. After a wait, for Yuvan anna to be free, I got the moth ID’d as Jerdon’s window moth. A few people visited the market and the Riwatch museum, but I was done for the day. 

The Wilderness game is available for sale - click here. It was great fun.  Yuvan had a tough time trying to  get us aligned to the rules of the game - each of us wanting our own rules.  Devika insisted she need two turns, Gangapriya wanted to show everyone her cards, Usha kept things close to her chest, I nitpicked over descriptions, and Yuvan tore his hair!  (Easier to teach kids, he must have thought.). Anyway, it was strategic Usha who "won", creating a strong eco system before the rest of us.

Moth on light

Day 6: I woke up late as there was no morning birding and made the 20 minute journey from Yatri Niwas to Dibang valley jungle camp for one last time. We ate breakfast and played wilderness as it was raining relentlessly. Suresh uncle was taking photography classes (I joined for a while), and some others had braved the rain to bird in the camp. 

Elu uncle called me for a walk around the camp. We saw the Red necked laughingthrush, Rufous woodpecker, White rumped munias, Bulbuls, Swallows and more. We also saw several butterflies including the Purple sapphire and a few Five rings. We actually saw the Rufous woodpecker very close to the dining room, but it flew off before anyone else could see it. I spent a little while perusing the Salim Ali 10 volume set (to ID the birds) kept at the camp dining room. 

Moving On and away from Roing

We set off for Digboi after lunch. On the drive we saw Oriental Pied hornbills, Honey buzzard, Green billed malkoha, Hill myna; I saw a Black capped kingfisher as well. Upon entering our rooms (verandas, to be precise) we were greeted by a double rainbow. 

The rainbow at Digboi - I saw a single.

We were in the 3rd floor apartment, along with Ravi and Suresh, and these Asian Pied Starlings were in our eyeline.  Photo by Ravi.

Several people decided to visit the Digboi oil museum. I chose to stay behind and instead saw a Barred owlet in the garden. Unfortunately it was dark and I couldn’t get a good photograph. I had also spotted a Shrike and White throated kingfisher earlier. At dinner, I confirmed (from more knowledgeable people) that I had indeed seen a Black capped kingfisher and a Barred owlet, after checking if the owlet was still in the vicinity. 

Dehing Patkai - and the gibbons

Day 7: We set out for Dehing Patkai at around 5:30 am. As we neared the park, we saw an emerald dove, and a little before the final turning to the national park we saw a group of Hoolock Gibbons. There was a male, a couple of females, and a baby too, feeding. We spent some time watching the antics of the gibbons and observed their feeding. 

The Gibbon male on the kadamba tree, looking at us.  With fruit in hand - Photo by Ramesh

The Gibbon Male - Photo by Meera

The female Gibbon, lighter brown.  Photo by Meera

We also spotted a Lesser yellownape. 

After breakfast at the entrance of Dehing Patkai we set out for the morning walk inside the national park. Three forest guards accompanied us. We walked on a leaf covered path in dense lowland rainforest comprised of tall dipterocarps. There were also a lot of ferns. We spotted a Great hornbill in flight and heard the Brown hornbill. We also saw the Rufous woodpecker, both Lesser and Greater racket tailed drongos, Black headed cuckoo shrike, Sultan tit and Woodshrikes. We heard the Grey peacock pheasant and a few people saw the Khalij pheasant. On our way back for lunch, we spotted a Crested serpent eagle and a troop of Rhesus macaques. A little further down the road we had the luck to see a Pied falconet eat a bulbul and then fly into a tree, possibly to catch something else. 

We returned to Dehing patkai after lunch to look for the Trogon. We were greeted by the sight of mudpuddling butterflies on what Probinda later said was leopard scat. About 5 minutes after we began walking the afternoon bird activity began. We saw Large and Common woodshrikes, Grey headed woodpecker, Chestnut bellied nuthatch, Sultan tits, Blue winged leafbird, and others. We also saw a Tropical swallowtail moth. Earlier in the day we had seen a False tiger moth. Other Lepidoptera we saw included loads of Barons and Archdukes, Grey counts, Golden angle, Yellow helen, Common tit. Suresh uncle photographed a Fluffy tit. After we went a little way up one path we turned back and tried another. This time we did see the Red headed trogon. It was sitting inside the tree but one could still see it. I was delighted to finally spot it after all our efforts. On our way to the car we saw Blue bearded bee-eater When we returned to the car, we found out that Yuvan Anna, who had turned back earlier to see the butterflies, had not only seen a pair of Trogons, but also a Green magpie and Khalij pheasants. Arun uncle had seen the Trogons earlier in the morning as well. 

(My Dehing Patkai narrative here.)

We left Dehing patkai for Tinsukia reluctantly ( at least in my case). As I was in the back seat I dozed off and didn’t spot anything else. 

Maguree beel wetlands and the Dibru Saikowa national park

Day 8: This was the last day of birding on the trip. We were going to the Maguree beel wetlands and the Dibru saikowa national park. We set out with packed breakfast. Neither mine nor Yuvan anna’s lasted the drive. Much to Ramesh uncle’s and Vijay uncle’s relief we left theirs alone. 

We reached Maguree Beel and got into the boats only for it to start raining. We sheltered in the cars and after some discussion, Vijay uncle announced that we would go to Dibru Saikowa first. 

We reached Dibru Saikhowa and got into a big roofed boat. 

The rain had lessened. I was in the lower deck and shortly after we set off saw a Striated heron. After a bit I climbed to the upper deck and was rewarded with the sight of a Greenshank. We also saw Lapwings, Swamp francolins and a Grey headed fishing eagle. A large flock of ducks, comprising Lesser whistling and Indian spot bills, was sighted. Apart from that the trip was uneventful. 

This beautiful picture of the rising mists by Ramesh

Brooms!  Lined up on the banks, from the grasslands

Canebrakes - another unique aspect of Dibru Saikhowa National Park are the little islands of Elephant grass.

The Grey-headed Fishing Eagle- picture by Meera

The mixed forests I am sure had many hidden treasures.

The rain had stopped so we returned to Maguree beel. The boats here were pole boats which looked like canoes. As we boarded them it started drizzling but cleared up as we left. There must have been something about that docking place because it drizzled again when we landed on our return. We set out in spite of the drizzle and it was worth it. I think this must be the best way to bird in a water body. We could get right inside the water body, at water level and moving at a gentle unobtrusive speed without disturbing any bird. Once the sun came out it was even pleasant to sit on a wooden plank. During our boat ride, we saw the Striated grassbird, Ruddy breasted crake, Rusty rumped warbler, Rosy pipits, both the Bronze winged and Pheasant tailed (without the tail) jacanas, Temminck’s stint and a Darter. Naturally there were loads of Herons, Egrets and Cormorants; Barn swallows and Wagtails too. 

Our lunch halt - nice fresh and simple food.  Every meal we thoroughly enjoyed, and  it is best to eat local food rather than the pan Indian ubiquitous PBM. 

After lunch we went on a short walk where we saw Moorhens, Jacanas and saw several dragonflies and damselflies. 

The views on the walk. 

(Picture wing dragonflies in hundreds!)

Some of us went on a second boat ride. This was even better in the afternoon sun, drifting in between water lilies and hyacinth. This time we saw a lot more Jacanas as well as Little Grebe and a pair of Cotton pygmy geese. A Pied kingfisher enthralled us with its dives. 

After some hot pakoras, we said our goodbyes to Probinda and returned to the hotel. That night we had a special Assamese thali in an authentic Assamese family run restaurant.

Day 9: After last minute packing and breakfast we left for the airport. We said our farewells to our drivers, Pralayda and Hiranyada. Also there to see us off was a White wagtail.

A few words on the food.  The food was simple, tasty and filling although a tad spicy to my palate. The local greens were interesting. And curd was provided!

Probinda was a mine of information not only about birds but about the myths and folklore associated with the hills. His mimic of the gibbons was amazing and hilarious. His whistles were awesome. Pralayda had amazingly deep knowledge of trekking and wildlife in addition to his tour management skills. All the drivers, Jiten, Dhanonjay, Thakur, Moon, Mintu, Shamim and Prashanto were very cheerful and helpful and patient with the boisterous group.

This was a memorable trip (not just because it was my first one) and one which I would like to repeat with the same group. There is so much more to see, which we couldn’t this time, for lack of time and a knowledgeable guide — trees, flowers, butterflies, insects and mammals, that many trips are needed."

********

Thank you Hrishu, for that fabulous summary.

Here are some links for photo albums.

Meera

Suresh

Ramesh

Gayathree

Ravi

Ramesh -  butterflies

Meera - insects