The treepie

The treepie called me to my window.
Softly,
Like water dripping in a pool
Bob-o-link, bob-o-link.

The teak tree leaves and the wind did their best to hide it from me.
I caught but a glimpse.


Why do I smile so?



Rufous tree pie (Dendrocitta vagabunda) on the teak tree (Tectona grandis) in my neighbour's garden.

The wild olive party

Red bugs - Melamphaus faber (as far as I can make out)- of the Pyrrhocoridae family, feasting on fruits of Sterculia foetida

Flat shaped, and seeming to be permanently conjoined, these bugs are the same family as the cotton stainer bugs of the Dysdercus genus.  Those bugs leave a red/yellow stain on cotton, as well as cut the strands, which basically makes the cotton useless for our human industrial use I guess.

I suppose they are all cousins, but I don't think this one is that one. There are supposedly some 300 types of these, with different kinds of markings.  Uff!  Now I need to peer at these things more closely as well.

In the meantime, the bugs in question were of course having a jolly feast of wild olive  over ripe goo.

The rooster

The Grey Jungle Cock, Nature’s own alarm clock, roams the wooded areas of Munnar when not being snared - The Hindu



A delightful description on the comic rooster.

Sun, cloud, sea and me

It was one of those days - everything seemed wrong - sinkholes on Mount Road, Ripon building falling apart, smog mask on my niece in Delhi, non-stop drilling for the last one month in a neighbouring apartment, real estate dealings that frustrate, ridiculous political fuss over a movie, power failure accompanied by an EB man on top of the transformer with what seemed as utter disregard to safety - and I was ready to move out of the city; and country for that matter.

While I seriously reviewed New Zealand, Scotland, Canada and Scotland, my more sensible husband gently suggested that I go for a walk.  I needed the exercise he said, the fresh air would do me good, he said.  (I think he just wanted me and my ranting out of the house.)  And so I went.

Oh Madras, all is forgiven.

The clouds caught the light of the setting sun and magically transformed the waters into gold and orange.  

In a minute, it was gone.
A minute that filled me with so much awe, delight and elation.
I am so lucky.

And today morning, it was a silvery sea.  A black and white portrait, ever changing, as the clouds scudded by with the strong breezes from the north.

Blue skies ever since,
Peace at home.
A relieved husband.

The Pheasant Tailed Jacanas of Pallikaranai

I remember when I first saw the Jacana walk on water (well almost), it just blew my mind, and I spent hours at Dungarpur just observing their spidery legs and jerky movements.  

The pheasant-tailed jacana (Hydrophasianus chirurgus) is quite common in the wetlands of Chennai, and always make for interesting sightings as they dart on top of the floating vegetation.

Mr Ramanan is a regular Sunday visitor to the marshes of Pallikaranai and Sholinganallur and has documented their courtship and breeding over several years. The females are larger and more colourful than the male and are polyandrous.  it is the males that incubate the eggs!

Mr Ramanan notes, "In 2016 in the month of June I had come across two active nests of Pheasant Tailed Jacanas closer to the road side itself. The female is polyandrous and the male takes care of entire breeding of the chicks."

Mr Ramanan noted that the smaller male chased the female with which he had previously mated, 

went underneath the bird, pushed it from the squatting position.  it looked as if the male was suspicious of the female, and did not want another clutch of eggs of another male in its territory?

In another instant, Mr Ramanan observed the male take the chicks under its wing, when a predator was sighted.  The alarm call had been raised by the female.

This is the male's protection posture, with all the chicks underneath, looking like a single adult with eight legs!

Mr Ramanan captured this picture of the female's frightened posture, with body erect but tail down.  (And do see those claws!)

"Once the threat disappeared they started feeding as usual."

"The breeding plumages of the sickle shaped tail with predominant amount of chocolate-brown colour and in flight a large amount white, was observed from the month of May to June this year. On one occasion when the early morning sun rays peeped through the clouds, it painted the female Pheasant-Tailed Jacana with the golden touch of rays which really accentuated its silky golden coloured nape."

Mr Ramanan continued his watch of the PTJs through the summer of 2016 and 2017.  "The sign of chasing all other birds like white breasted water-hen and purple moorhen, from their territory in the month of July, indicated that it has already laid the eggs.  As expected the first chick emerged on the 4th of August, and were seen with the male Pheasant-Tailed Jacana which had shed the tail by that time. I was expecting for some more chicks on subsequent days but it was not to be and the male has only one chick as on 11th of August. On 9th of August again came across the protection display. This time just like last year the female raised the alarm call when a common kite hovered over it and the male with the feeble call attracted the chick and took it under its wings.   The female immediately hovered over and chased the Common Kite. It is clear from the above that female also played an active role while breeding in case of threat, apart from the role of guarding their territory."

Incubating male seen at Sholinganallur.

Notice the large brown eggs! PTJ females usually lay a clutch of four.

When a Shikra was sighted, the male PTJ aggressively left its clutch unguarded and chased the predator.

Returning after a successful chase!

With his keen eye, patience and regular documentation, Mr Ramanan has been able to put together an entire series on the breeding of the PTJs, which makes for a fascinating account.

The marshes and wetlands of Chennai - important and precious for so many creatures big and small.

The teak tree butterfly garden

Tectona grandis.  In flower.  Our neighbour's garden

October 2nd

October brings flowers in plenty to our neighbour's teak tree.  I love to watch the tree.  I watch from our bedroom and I watch from our balcony.  Sometimes it is a Drongo that provides entertainment,  quite often the rose-ringed parakeets perch on the uppermost branch and screech indignantly while squirrels scamper up and down the tree trunk.  Today, it was the butterflies and bees show that I binge watched.

All through the day the Common Emigrants flitted ceaselessly from flower to flower, up and down, side to side.  The window frames seemed to be filled with these wandering whites.  As I followed them with my binoculars, a  Crimson Rose fluttered into view, its flight less rushed and frenzied as it gently alighted on a  flower. A light breeze rustled those large teak leaves and it flew on.

Then there was a blur of yellow, a pair of Tawny Costers and a bunch of Common Leopards flitted around on the left.  More white Common Emigrants to the right, and among them sat one Chocolate  Pansy, with its ragged wing edges, slowly circling on the same flower, unlike the other butterflies.

It was the turns of the blues then, a bunch of Blue Tigers and Glassy Tigers passed by.  They did not seem terribly interested and moved on quickly.  Teak nectar was not their favourite drink maybe? A Common Crow also drifted by, but seemed disinterested with the drinks on offer and floated away.

More Common Emigrants, yellow ones and whiter ones.  Oh wait, that yellow one opened its wings, could it be the Yellow Orange Tip (Ixias pyrene).  These butterflies generally come in after the monsoons, so have the rains brought them?   More whites, but these had black edges.  With Bhanu's Field Guide I identified them as Common Albatross Appias albina.

And into the "garden" came a much larger butterfly, solitary, green and black, fluttering its wings even as it alighted on a flower.  it was beautiful and striking, and was unfamiliar to me.  Flick through the book, peer through the binoculars, and now its gone behind the large teak leaf, hmmm a swallowtail for sure, no not a peacock, oh its back in view, I really need to learn to read Tamil, scan the book once again.  Could it be a Tailed Jay?  I need to verify.  Search in Duck Duck Go Go.   Graphium agamemnon, common and not threatened, more frequent post monsoon.  And its host plant is the Polyalthia!  Maybe that's what it was.  Nothing else fitted the bill.

The enduring Teak
and the ephemeral butterfly
Entwined.

Oct 3rd

Common Jezebels this morning, at the tree.

Oct 4th

And a pair of Danaid Eggfly were having a leisurely sip.

Oct 7th

I continue to see new species.  Today, two Common Jays chased each other from flower to flower.  At the crown, Plain Tigers fluttered through the blooms.

Urban musings

The days rush and blur.

Pause.
My garden blooms fade even before I get to know them.

The high flying Shelducks

I shall see them with new respect the next time I spot these striking looking ducks..

Plucky duck: highest-flying fowl's Himalayan exploits revealed | Environment | The Guardian

A high-flying species of duck reaches altitudes of up to 6,800 metres (22,000ft) to cross the Himalayas, research from a British university has revealed.
Scientists from the University of Exeter used satellite tracking to find out how ruddy shelducks – which are a similar size to mallards – find their way through the mountain range.
They do not fly over 8,848-metre Mount Everest but do soar to more than eight times higher than the world’s tallest structure, the Burj Khalifa in Dubai.
Quite how they manage it remains known. The scientists are still puzzling out how the species is able to cope at such an altitude.
The only waterfowl known to have flown higher is the bar-headed goose, which reaches more than 7,000 metres. According to the RSPB, the highest flier of all is the Rüppell’s griffon vulture, which can break the 11,000-metre mark. In the UK, buzzards fly at an average of about 400 metres but can soar to more than 1,000 metres.
The efforts of the modest ruddy shelduck are of a higher order. They are known to breed north of the Himalayan mountain range, but spend their winters at sea level south of the Tibetan plateau.
They need to fly over the Himalayas in the spring to return to their breeding grounds, meaning they must cross terrain higher than 4,000 metres, where oxygen levels are halved.
The University of Exeter scientists used satellite tracking to discover that they fly through valleys in the mountain range – avoiding massive peaks like Everest. But they still reach impressive heights.
“This is the first evidence of extreme high-altitude flight in a duck,” said the lead researcher, Nicole Parr, from the centre for ecology and conservation at the University of Exeter’s Penryn campus in Cornwall.
“This species has probably evolved a range of adaptations to be able to cope with flying so high, where oxygen levels are half those at sea level. We don’t yet know the nature of these adaptations. Our research also shows that the ruddy shelduck has a faster climb rate than the bar-headed goose.”
Lucy Hawkes, the supervisor of the work at the university, had previously tracked bar-headed geese to an altitude of 7,290 metres near Everest in 2014.
The geese were long thought to be the world’s highest-flying bird based on flapping flight (others soar higher on thermals), but the new research suggests they may not be the only species flying at very high altitudes.
The scientists used satellite data collected from 15 ruddy shelducks from two populations spending their winter south of the Tibetan plateau.
They found the birds, which take a circuitous route to avoid mountain peaks, regularly fly above 5,000 metres and sometimes go as high as 6,800 metres.
The ducks flew about 800 miles. As well as the lack of oxygen they faced changes in altitude, variable wind speeds and directions, decreasing air temperature and reduced humidity.
It is possible that the ducks studied are not the highest fliers. The researchers suggested that ruddy shelducks wintering further east in India may fly even higher, given the higher terrain that lies north of India.
The ruddy shelduck’s breeding range stretches from south-eastern Europe to western China, with some established populations in Africa. Its habitat includes fresh water, salty or brackish lakes.

ANET and the Wandoor mangroves

15th April 2017

Continued from here.

Our first visit to the Andaman Islands, thanks to MNS.  After a brief stop at Sippighat in search of Andaman Teals, we arrived on a cloudy sultry morning at ANET - the Andaman & Nicobar Environment Team - Base Camp in Wandoor.

Wandoor is in the southern part of the main south Andaman island.  The station was conceived and set up by Rom Whitaker and Satish Bhaskar and Alok Mullick in the late eighties, and there's a blog that gives details of their vision, the place as it is now, and the Do's and Don'ts that make for interesting reading.  Click here for that link.

Base Director Manish Chandi met us here, and took us through an introduction to the ecology and anthropology of the islands, as well as the work that goes on in ANET.

I was thoroughly fascinated (and filled with chagrin) with Manish's description of the islands, the people, and the attempts of the "outside world" to "deal" with them.  Of the original thirteen indigenous tribes, only four remain in the Andaman islands thanks to these efforts.  I learnt about the Shompen of Nicobar, the Karen families from Myanmar, the post tsunami development and rehabilitation which may not all be as helpful as it seems, and a lot more.

At this point, the clouds opened, and the rain poured down quite literally in buckets, and it was wonderful to sit in the verandah and enjoy the sight, after hot and dry Madras.  I cannot put in words the singing in my heart at that moment.  Rain!  I can quite happily sit and watch it for hours.

The cabins were on stilts, and for our cabin, you went up the stairs, walked around the cabin on an elevated verandah, and then entered this room for four, which was our quarters for the three unique days at ANET.  Arjun took the floor mattress, GP and me the double bed and Sekar on the single.  

The others were in similar digs spread around the central kitchen and dining areas.  Each cabin is named after one of the scientists, and I now have forgotten the name of our scientist/cabin.

The four of us had the use of a toilet and bath, just around the corner, in a manner of speaking.

A RWH pond (the Andaman treepies, drongos and hill mynas hung round the pond too), is the source of freshwater at ANET, and someone would magically fill the large drum in the bathroom, with water every day, and we managed quite beautifully, splitting bath timings into a morning and evening shift!  Of course the stay was made even more unforgettable as we were treated to a Spanish baritone performance every morning!

Andaman Cat Snake (Boiga andamanensis) curled up by the closed thatched window

A torch was essential to walk around at night, but none of us came upon a snake, as i think there were so many of us, and we made such an excited racket that they probably wisely kept away.  Bhanu, who went in August, found a pair of Andaman Cat snakes on the beams in her room!

Bhanu was delighted to see them and in her own words, quickly took out her camera to takes these pictures.

They have vertical pupils which gives them their name, and they are endemic to the Andamans.

..and this bigger  one was on the beams above was the male.

Monto, one of the oldest field staff at ANET expertly caught and removed them from her room.

We birded around the campus, Sivakumar slipped and cracked a rib in the process, Kedar misplaced many a thing, Keerthana and Elumalai kept a watch for the resident scops owl, we saw what we thought was an invasive bullfrog, we actually survived (quite happily) without our phones, and with minimal electricity.  We also learnt the chilling, grisly story of the woman who was killed by a saltwater croc off the coasts of Havelock, which is the reason the Andaman police shoo people off the shoreline as soon as the sun sets.

Our meals were south Indian, fresh and delicious, and we all gathered at mealtimes to exchange stories and post-dinner, to listen to the wonderful, passionate young researchers of ANET.  They were from all over the country and I really enjoyed their company and their spirit.  Dialogues and discussions with these young researchers were an eye opener in several ways. For one, their positive energy, passion and enthusiasm was wonderfully infectious and energising for jaded, urban and middle-aged me.  And there was so much of good interventions and scientific studies that were going on.

The kitchen

The pathway around the campus

There are many other things that Bhanu spotted at ANET.

Fringed Red Eye (Matapa cresta) 

Asiatic Blood Tail (Lathrecista asiatica) dragonfly 

The Andaman Green Bronzeback ( Dendrelaphis andamanensis)

Andaman Clipper (Parthenos sylvia roepstorfii) 

The Andaman Viscount (Tanaecia cibaritis) an endemic.

Bracket fungi

A Stinkhorn mushroom! They smell vile I believe.

White Tiger (Danaus melanippus) 

                                                                    

             

The evening walk through the mangroves

That evening, Manish took us through the mangroves to the north Wandoor beach as a light steady drizzle accompanied us.   He walked barefeet in the gooey, wet mud and warned us of sandflies that we shouldn't itch but ignore!  (Tip:  Sandlflies seem to also not like Odomos - I used it, and didn't get bitten!)

On my return I read that the ANI archipelago has 38 mangrove species!  "38 mangrove species belonging to 12 families and 19 genera, which includes 4 hybrids and 34 species. In other words, about 50% of the global mangrove species" are present in Andaman and Nicobar islands.

Mangroves stabilise and protect the coastal ecosystems, and are therefore especially important for island systems like the ANI.  They provide hard wood, as well as serve as nurseries for several species of fish and snail.  In some way they are important for the health of the reefs as well.

The tsunami tidal waves had come in here and destroyed large portions of the mangrove, which were now in the process of recovery.  The mangroves had protected the interior spaces.

The littoral zone had Andaman Bulletwood (sea mahua) and large Pandanus (kewra).  I didn't know that Pandanus could grow this tall!

The elliptical leaves of Bruguiera?

These leaves are eaten by crabs

Knee roots (Bruguiera species) and pencil roots (Avicenna)

The aerial roots of Rhizophora (mucronata or mange?)

 I thought thats an Avicennia in the foreground, but Manish has corrected it as Cerbera Odallam - this is not a mangrove but grows well in swampy and marshy areas, and is fairly poisonous from what I read.

Crabs feasting on the Pandanus fruit, making for a very carnivorous composition!

The fruits were all over the place, and Manish explained that they were an important local source of  nutrition and food.  Post tsunami, there was replanting of Pandanus underway on the Nicobar islands.

...as were the well fed crabs that pretended to be snails!

The pools of water had mudskippers, tadpoles and other assorted wrigglies.

Lookout the propagation seed to the left

Unidentified flower

If Im not mistaken, a Bruguiera tree.

And then we were on the beach...

It is a sheltered cove on the western coast of south Andamans, and it was low tide with almost no waves

Walking further west, we came upon a sandy beach.  The light was fading fast.

A "Pano" shot of the beach

There were several fallen trees, and there was a wabi sabi beauty and stillness around them.

                                                                                                                               










































































































We returned back to the camp via the village road, and having worked up a good appetite, we fell upon the dinner like a pack of wild dogs!  (I'm sure the ANET staff had not come across such hearty appetites!)

The next morning we were scheduled to go off for the day to Rutland Island, and it was to be an early start, from the Pongi Balu Jetty.

ANET seemed like an idyll, a refuge; Wonder if I could move there...I could be the cook I suppose, or the local mother hen for children's groups.... as the fan whirred ineffectively over the mosquito net that night, and an owl hooted in the distance, these were my wishful thoughts before sleep overcame me.

Through the course of our stay there, besides being completely humbled, awestruck and amazed at the natural beauty of the region, there was so much of learning on animal behaviours and vulnerabilities and the impacts of intervention and human development.

We learnt about how geckos slept at night in order to increase their chances of survival from predation; how there are seagrass meadows where dugongs graze, and their numbers are in peril; coral reef can be resilient, resistant or susceptible and how do we learn to "manage" and maintain the resilient ones that bounce back after catastrophes;  the tsunami impacts were all too plain to see - from geological changes in the lay of the land (quite literally), to destruction of communities and their rebuilding.

ANET is also developing curriculum to help the islanders understand their own ecology and environment via the Treasured Islands series, and working with fishing communities, studying their practices and looking at ways to control over fishing.

May Manish Chandi and his tribe grow, people with a positive outlook, looking to make a difference wherever they are. The only path to sustainable development seems to be to reduce, recycle and reuse.  And it has to start with me.