Bubo bubo vs Bubo bengalensis

Something new learnt everyday



Notes From A ‘Bubophile’

Notes From A ‘Bubophile’

Eurasian Eagle Owl or Indian Eagle Owl? ‘Bubophile’ M. Eric Ramanujam helps Sanctuary readers figure out what sets the two apart.

Photo: A. Lakshmikantan. Bubo bengalensis - The Indian Eagle Owl

Rauf Ali refers to me as a ‘bubophile’ and coming from that source I do not actually know if it is a compliment or otherwise. Even if it is meant to be sarcastic it’s okay since my friends have called me worse – owlholic, strigiomaniac and ‘ullu ka patta’ are some among the other unprintable ones. To most people who know me, I would seem to be living in a world of conundrums since I am not at all a birder (though I recognise most species of our region, waders are a nightmare). It is a fact that some of my friends who are keen birdwatchers are more than just upset with me due to my attitude and statements concerning their ‘hobby’. But I find the Indian Eagle Owl Bubo bengalensis fascinating, and would love to spend all my time collecting data, reading up on the Strigiformes or Falconiformes, analysing stuff – in fact, anything to unravel the natural history, especially the behaviour of this fascinating taxon.

Maybe herein lies the fascination for owls – the simple knowledge that nearly nothing is known about the taxon’s behaviour. Behavioural ecology is a tricky term since there are few practitioners of the science of avian ethology in the country, and the thrill and gratification lies in unraveling secrets. Once a barrier has been broken down, a pattern emerges – in some ways science is akin to forensics.

Photo: A. Lakshmikantan.  Bubo bubo

So what is so fascinating about owls? EVERYTHING! But I’d like to begin with nomenclatural controversies and further conundrums.

The holotype described as Otus bengalensis by Major James Franklin and exhibited at the Zoological Society of London in 1830-1831 was alluded to be a variety of the Great-eared Owl by Dr. John Latham, the ‘grandfather of Australian ornithology’. During the first half of the 20^th century, the foremost champion of raptor taxonomy, Georgiy Petrovich Dementiev of Russia, considered it to be a “borderline case between species and subspecies”, and though not conspecific, acknowledged that the Eurasian Eagle Owl Bubo bubo and Indian Eagle Owl were closely related. Stewart Baker, the most controversial ornithologist of his times, in his monumental work of 1927, The Fauna of British India including Ceylon and Burma, considered the taxon to be a subspecies of Bubo bubo and this view was reflected by Charles Vaurie, the American naturalist who started off as a bird painter but developed into a fully-fledged ornithologist at the American Museum of Natural History. Later, the authoritative 10 volume series Handbook of the Birds of India and Pakistan(Volume 3) of 1969 by Dr. Sálim Ali and Sydney Dillon Ripley called the taxon the ‘Great Horned Owl’ and considered it a subspecies of Bubo bubo. In the late 1990s, a couple of American field guides by Grimmett and the Inskipps, and Kazmierczak appeared in print which began a debate on the validity of common names since they called the taxon the ‘Eurasian Eagle Owl’ but maintained it as a subspecies of Bubo bubo. Then all hell broke loose with the arrival of molecular analysis. The breakthrough came with the advent of biochemical methods, especially the present analysis of mitochondrial DNA (mcDNA, especially the cytochrome b gene) by Professor Michael Wink of Heidelberg University and his colleagues. This has ‘almost’ conclusively proved that the Indian Eagle Owl Bubo bengalensis is a distinct taxon.

For many decades, the specific identity of the taxon was a matter of debate among ornithologists and confined to the inner circles. Morphologically and behaviour wise, obvious differences were quite noticeable between Bubo bubo and Bubo bengalensis. Without delving deep into technical keys here are the most obvious differences:

1) The feathers of the facial disc are much longer in Bubo bubo resulting in an indistinct or invisible rim. In Bubo bengalensis the filament-like feathers of the facial disc are much shorter resulting in a prominent dark rim,

2) Bubo bengalensis is much smaller than Bubo bubo (which incidentally is also found in India in the Himalaya) – the revised work of Grimmett and the Inskipps gives the comparative size of the former as 48.5 cm. And 56-66 cm. for the latter,

3) The ‘long call’ or ‘song’ of the male Bubo bengalensis can be rendered as Dr. Sálim Ali put it, “a deep, resonant, hollow bu-bo (accent on the second syllable which is much prolonged).” In contrast, Bubo bubo has “a deep, resonant hoot, stressed at the beginning and dropping at the end” according to the path-breaking work of Konig and Weick. Cytochrome b sequencing has proved that Bubo bengalensis is closer to the African Spotted Eagle Owl Bubo africanus than Bubo bubo.

But the game does not end there since all taxonomists simply agree to disagree and most hedge their bets and statements. For example, Dr. Pamela Cecile Rasmussen, the eminent ornithologist, expert on Asian birds and re-discoverer of the Forest Spotted Owlet Heteroglaux blewetti mentions in her seminal work, Birds of South Asia, that the specific status of Bubo bengalensis “is not fully established”, and Grimmett and the Inskipps in their revised edition inform us that the taxon falls under the category “requiring further research and compilation of data before their justification can be reassessed.” This hedging by prominent authorities may seem to be escapist but in reality is quite justified since when debates rage among the academics, it is safe to maintain a neutral stance while acknowledging the role of molecular analysis in the reconstruction of phylogenies. To play the devil’s advocate: today, the analysis of mcDNA is central to most molecular studies concerning birds but other protein coding genes such as nuclear DNA (ncDNA) and ribosomal genes too have been earlier used to determine phylogenetic relationships in birds. This state of affairs was very poignantly brought home to me when I received a communication from a reviewer of one of my manuscripts who mentioned, “I am not saying use of B. bengalensis is incorrect, but I just want to make sure the authors are aware of these issues as conservative taxonomists may question this treatment.”

Why do taxonomists and molecular analysts get into such seemingly archaic controversies? Fortunately or unfortunately (from the point of view one adopts), the controversies and upgradation of relationships and identities are a matter of ongoing discovery and with the advent of new knowledge, they are bound to reflect the way evolutionary biology seeks to refine its boundaries as per the hierarchical position of the ‘tree of life’. Controversy is normal in the scientific world – even Charles Darwin was not spared the ire of the scientific community, but even at his nadir, he did mention that “the time will come I believe, though I shall not live to see it, when we have fairly true genealogical trees to each kingdomof nature.”

The thrill of owling continues…

Listen to the calls of the owls here: Indian Eagle Owl Bubo bengalensis.

Eurasian Eagle Owl Bubo bubo.

Forest Owlet Heteroglaux blewitti.

African Spotted Eagle Owl Bubo africanus.

Read More: Owls Of The Forest’s Edge.

The Great Horned Owl.

Author: M. Eric Ramanujam First appeared in: Sanctuary Asia, Vol. XXXV No. 1, February 2015.

Owls in Auroville

All The Better To See You With

In and around the Auroville Township in Puducherry live at least six species of owls. Eric Ramanujam offers Sanctuary readers a charming introduction to these birds of darkness.

Some time back I received this note from Rajeev Bhatt, a science teacher in one of Auroville’s schools and environmental educationalist, popularly referred to as the ‘pambu atti’ (‘snake charmer’ in Tamil, because he once helped in snake rescue) - “Here are a couple of photos of the owlets that are visiting my place regularly. I identified them as the Jungle Owlet.”  All I could tell him was that they were young (mesoptiles) and to wait until the parents put in an appearance before positively identifying the species. To his credit, he did so and even took photographs – it turned out that they were Indian Scops Owls. In his defense, I must say that it is very difficult to identify young owls and when I saw my first young Indian Eagle Owl, I did not know what species it was. However, I did not jump to conclusions like an ‘expert’ (a term that one will encounter frequently in Auroville – what will happen if Rajeev stumbles upon the term ‘authority’? – one can only shudder at the mere thought).

Auroville and its Owls

In an earlier article of mine in Blackbuck, 15 years ago, I had referred to Auroville as a ‘city forest’ but knowing better now since I presently work there, it should be termed a township surrounded by a greenbelt which contains a few forest plantations of the autochthonous coastal vegetation of the Coromandel Coast, popularly and controversially known as the Tropical Dry Evergreen Forest. Once an environmental disaster, the wasteland that was the Auroville plateau has now been converted to a land of verdant green, albeit dominated by a number of exotics like Australian acacias and eucalyptus. It lies approximately 15 km. north of the Union Territory of Puducherry (formerly a French enclave) in Tamil Nadu and is well known for its experiments in sustainable livelihoods and technologies. It was started in 1968, the brainchild of Mira Alfassa, a Frenchwoman (reverentially referred to as the ‘Mother’) who envisaged it to be an international township and an experiment in human unity – uniquely, she never set foot on it.

Naturally, once the native pockets of forest plantations began regenerating and expanding, the wildlife returned – among them at least six species of owls.

Small and beautiful

The smallest, commonest and most easily seen species is the Spotted Owlet Athene brama (etymology: Athene, the Greek goddess of wisdom, arts and war, and bramaafter Brahma – the ‘creator’ and one of the triumvirate of supreme gods in the Hindu pantheon). Unlike most owls, it is partly diurnal but mostly nocturnal and crepuscular (active during twilight and dusk). Its harsh chattering calls can sometimes be heard all day. It occurs in almost all types of vegetated areas as well as wastelands (provided there are a few Palmyras or cavities in the ravine walls - in fact anywhere where it can nest) including agricultural fields, around villages and occasionally even within human habitations provided there are some derelict buildings where it can find a suitable hollow. There is even a resident family in ‘the Banyan Tree’, the ‘Heart of Auroville’, adjacent to the Matrimandir renowned for its not very nice exterior facade. Among the owls of this place it is the one that can almost be considered a commensal of humans. I have personally encountered them in the heart of Puducherry City and a couple of nestlings were brought to me on the island on which I live, one of the most densely-populated areas (once a pirate island until Joseph Francois Dupleix (governor of Pondicherry) put an end to piracy in these parts in the mid-1700s). Though it may take the odd mouse or small rat, our studies have shown that it subsists primarily on arthropods – predominantly insects, but also spiders, scorpions and centipedes. During the breeding season in the summer months of April to July, many young fall out of their nesting cavities and it is not uncommon to find some concerned Aurovillians bringing up the orphans. Once they can fly, they are released back into the wild, and on more than half a dozen occasions I have personally watched adults that were not their natural parents, feeding the youngsters as if they were their own offspring.

Slightly larger than the Spotted Owlet is the Indian Scops Owl Otus bakkamoena(etymology: Otus after the Greek word otos meaning ‘eared owl’, and bakkamoenaafter the Sri Lankan term bakamuna for the Barn Owl or Brown Fish Owl). It was once called the ‘Collared Scops Owl’, but that term is now reserved for the species Otus lettia found in the Himalaya, Northeast India and East Bangladesh. Common in forested areas and orchards, it is rarely seen since it is strictly nocturnal and during the day its cryptic plumage blends well with the background of tree barks even when it rests outside its roosting cavity. It is easily recognised by its acoustics: one of the sexes makes a subdued whut which is usually answered by its mate’s whuk; both sexes will sometimes enter into a fast-paced duet when the calls become quite indistinct and unrecognisable (I am still to work out the sex specific call though I do not think that will happen in the near future – it would be a good opportunity for a budding biologist with an interest in avian song patterns). Though small in size, it is the most aggressive of all owls that I have come across – on many occasions when we had identified a nest with an incubating/brooding female and tried to investigate, the male attacked fearlessly, even during the day. A neighbour of ours had hand-raised an orphan that led a completely free existence. It would fly away when the light faded, but inevitably return to its roost in the house at dawn. An unfamiliar person approaching its roosting place would be unhesitatingly mobbed. For some reason I was spared any such attack when I first approached it.

Like the Spotted Owlet it feeds principally on arthropods though its diet varies depending on the type of habitat it occupies. Our studies have shown that in a forested ravine its diet comprised principally of Orthopterans (grasshoppers, crickets and allies), whereas in a forested area on the plateau, termites predominated. It too is a cavity nester, but since it occurs in denser vegetated habitats the degree of competition with the Spotted Owlet is minimal though the breeding period of both species coincides.

The large ones

The largest species is the Indian Eagle Owl Bubo bengalensis (etymology: Bubo from Latin meaning Eagle Owl probably from the call, and bengalensis from Bengal after which many faunal and floral forms are named). It is also known as the Rock Horned Owl, Rock Eagle Owl, Bengal Eagle Owl and Great Horned Owl – the last term used by Dr. Sálim Ali and Ripley, but internationally accepted to be that of the American species Bubo virgianus. At one time it was considered a sub-species of the Eurasian Eagle Owl Bubo bubo, but molecular analysis has proved beyond doubt that it is a species in its own right. In Auroville this species is confined to the ravines and is rarely found in vegetated areas, though in the near vicinity it is found on an isolated rocky outcropping. Over most of the Deccan it frequents hillocks and hilly areas covered with scrub, and it is my personal theory that the species adapted to life in the ravines on account of similar nesting sites. This is one of the few species of owls that is not a cavity nester, nor builds or appropriates nests of other raptors, preferring to breed in bare sheltered areas… sometimes no more than a scrape in the ground. In these areas the breeding season can start any time from the beginning of the year. The young remain with the parents until September or October, until the commencement of the monsoons. The young will stay with the parents until they are capable of hunting on their own. The primary nourishment comes from rodents and hares, though the owls also feed on birds and frogs, with the odd insect, scorpion and centipede adding grist to the mill. It is the apex predator in the ravines and will attack, kill and partly eat other owls and diurnal birds of prey – what is termed ‘intraguild aggression’, the same way early humans and large carnivores competed for the same space and food. This is my primary study subject and since I have written about it in Sanctuary Asia (http://www.sanctuaryasia.com/magazines/features/9894-notes-from-a-bubophile.html) earlier, I will not dwell on this.

A late entrant to Auroville – in fact I first came upon it only in the year 2001 – is the Mottled Wood Owl Strix ocellata (etymology: in Latin Stryx for a Screech Owl, and ocellata from ocellus meaning ‘eylet or little eye’ pertaining to the eye-like markings). This is a rare and extremely shy species, reliant on ‘old growth’ which provides large-enough nesting cavities. The owl’s presence can usually be detected only by its unique quavering ooooo-whaaaa call, usually repeated three times in a row – a call I can imitate quite reasonably and have used to dupe a gullible American one night who enthusiastically wrote about hearing the bird in her report. Strictly nocturnal, it also utters a toot at the onset of dusk. Beyond this, I personally know little of its habits and behaviour.

More owls

A rare visitor to Auroville – I have recorded it just once in Auroville’s flooded fields – is the Short-eared Owl Asio flammeus (etymology: Asio, from Pliny’s mention of an eared or horned owl, and flammeus from Latin meaning ‘flame coloured, flaming or fiery’). Though rare in Auroville, it is quite common during its winter migration in the famous Kaliveli floodplain a couple of kilometres north of Auroville. During its short residency, it can be observed even in broad daylight, usually sitting or walking about on the ground.  Since its period of occurrence is so short, we have not been able to gather data on the species, hence I cannot comment more on it.

One species that was said to be quite common in Auroville is the Barn Owl Tyto alba(etymology: Tyto, from the Greek tuto meaning an ‘owl’, and the Latin albusmeaning ‘white’ and pertaining to its white underparts). This is one species that I have had little opportunity to examine, in spite of it being said to be common. In Auroville township I have encountered it only on a couple of occasions in a ravine and have never seen or heard it in forested areas and human habitations bordering fields, unlike in the Cauvery Delta and other places in Tamil Nadu where it is quite abundant and has been part of ongoing studies. I find this alarming because whenever we converse with farmers in the region they all assure us that at one time it used to be quite common, but not anymore. More information has to be compiled but I suspect the indiscriminate use of pesticides could be the cause of the decline in its population.

As always there is always a silver lining to a dark cloud and we may be able to do justice to this most maligned bird – its Tamil name is ‘chavu kuruvi’, literally meaning ‘bird of death’. Our organisation, the Kaliveli Environment Education Trust, has been working in the Kaliveli watershed, in an area of over 700 sq. km. comprising wetland, fragmented forest blocks and sacred groves, farmland and rural habitation of which the township is only a small part. Twenty kilometres away from Auroville Township, on our trust land, an area of 40 or so acres has been undergoing reforestation for about a decade. We hope we will be able to piece together the natural history of the Barn Owl in this region since there is a breeding pair at the site. But an issue remains – the land is bordered by fields and assuredly the owls must be hunting for rodents in them. Problems and frustrations are part and parcel of the life of a wildlife biologist and I am under no delusions of the success of the venture. But if we can holistically unravel even the minutest detail of land use and correlate it to the diet, prey density and breeding potential of a predatory species we would have made a significant step in the right direction.

Author: Eric Ramanujam, First appeared in: Sanctuary Asia, Vol. XXXVI No. 8, August 2016.

Owls in Auroville

All The Better To See You With

All The Better To See You With

In and around the Auroville Township in Puducherry live at least six species of owls. Eric Ramanujam offers Sanctuary readers a charming introduction to these birds of darkness.

  Photo: E. Seshan.  Short-eared owl

Some time back I received this note from Rajeev Bhatt, a science teacher in one of Auroville’s schools and environmental educationalist, popularly referred to as the ‘pambu atti’ (‘snake charmer’ in Tamil, because he once helped in snake rescue) - “Here are a couple of photos of the owlets that are visiting my place regularly. I identified them as the Jungle Owlet.”  All I could tell him was that they were young (mesoptiles) and to wait until the parents put in an appearance before positively identifying the species. To his credit, he did so and even took photographs – it turned out that they were Indian Scops Owls. In his defense, I must say that it is very difficult to identify young owls and when I saw my first young Indian Eagle Owl, I did not know what species it was. However, I did not jump to conclusions like an ‘expert’ (a term that one will encounter frequently in Auroville – what will happen if Rajeev stumbles upon the term ‘authority’? – one can only shudder at the mere thought).

Auroville and its Owls

In an earlier article of mine in Blackbuck, 15 years ago, I had referred to Auroville as a ‘city forest’ but knowing better now since I presently work there, it should be termed a township surrounded by a greenbelt which contains a few forest plantations of the autochthonous coastal vegetation of the Coromandel Coast, popularly and controversially known as the Tropical Dry Evergreen Forest. Once an environmental disaster, the wasteland that was the Auroville plateau has now been converted to a land of verdant green, albeit dominated by a number of exotics like Australian acacias and eucalyptus. It lies approximately 15 km. north of the Union Territory of Puducherry (formerly a French enclave) in Tamil Nadu and is well known for its experiments in sustainable livelihoods and technologies. It was started in 1968, the brainchild of Mira Alfassa, a Frenchwoman (reverentially referred to as the ‘Mother’) who envisaged it to be an international township and an experiment in human unity – uniquely, she never set foot on it.

Naturally, once the native pockets of forest plantations began regenerating and expanding, the wildlife returned – among them at least six species of owls.

Photo: Rajeev Bhatt.  India Scops Owl

Small and beautiful

The smallest, commonest and most easily seen species is the Spotted Owlet Athene brama (etymology: Athene, the Greek goddess of wisdom, arts and war, and bramaafter Brahma – the ‘creator’ and one of the triumvirate of supreme gods in the Hindu pantheon). Unlike most owls, it is partly diurnal but mostly nocturnal and crepuscular (active during twilight and dusk). Its harsh chattering calls can sometimes be heard all day. It occurs in almost all types of vegetated areas as well as wastelands (provided there are a few Palmyras or cavities in the ravine walls - in fact anywhere where it can nest) including agricultural fields, around villages and occasionally even within human habitations provided there are some derelict buildings where it can find a suitable hollow. There is even a resident family in ‘the Banyan Tree’, the ‘Heart of Auroville’, adjacent to the Matrimandir renowned for its not very nice exterior facade. Among the owls of this place it is the one that can almost be considered a commensal of humans. I have personally encountered them in the heart of Puducherry City and a couple of nestlings were brought to me on the island on which I live, one of the most densely-populated areas (once a pirate island until Joseph Francois Dupleix (governor of Pondicherry) put an end to piracy in these parts in the mid-1700s). Though it may take the odd mouse or small rat, our studies have shown that it subsists primarily on arthropods – predominantly insects, but also spiders, scorpions and centipedes. During the breeding season in the summer months of April to July, many young fall out of their nesting cavities and it is not uncommon to find some concerned Aurovillians bringing up the orphans. Once they can fly, they are released back into the wild, and on more than half a dozen occasions I have personally watched adults that were not their natural parents, feeding the youngsters as if they were their own offspring.

Slightly larger than the Spotted Owlet is the Indian Scops Owl Otus bakkamoena(etymology: Otus after the Greek word otos meaning ‘eared owl’, and bakkamoenaafter the Sri Lankan term bakamuna for the Barn Owl or Brown Fish Owl). It was once called the ‘Collared Scops Owl’, but that term is now reserved for the species Otus lettia found in the Himalaya, Northeast India and East Bangladesh. Common in forested areas and orchards, it is rarely seen since it is strictly nocturnal and during the day its cryptic plumage blends well with the background of tree barks even when it rests outside its roosting cavity. It is easily recognised by its acoustics: one of the sexes makes a subdued whut which is usually answered by its mate’s whuk; both sexes will sometimes enter into a fast-paced duet when the calls become quite indistinct and unrecognisable (I am still to work out the sex specific call though I do not think that will happen in the near future – it would be a good opportunity for a budding biologist with an interest in avian song patterns). Though small in size, it is the most aggressive of all owls that I have come across – on many occasions when we had identified a nest with an incubating/brooding female and tried to investigate, the male attacked fearlessly, even during the day. A neighbour of ours had hand-raised an orphan that led a completely free existence. It would fly away when the light faded, but inevitably return to its roost in the house at dawn. An unfamiliar person approaching its roosting place would be unhesitatingly mobbed. For some reason I was spared any such attack when I first approached it.

Like the Spotted Owlet it feeds principally on arthropods though its diet varies depending on the type of habitat it occupies. Our studies have shown that in a forested ravine its diet comprised principally of Orthopterans (grasshoppers, crickets and allies), whereas in a forested area on the plateau, termites predominated. It too is a cavity nester, but since it occurs in denser vegetated habitats the degree of competition with the Spotted Owlet is minimal though the breeding period of both species coincides.

Photo: E Seshan Indian Eagle Owl - Bubo bengalensis

The large ones

The largest species is the Indian Eagle Owl Bubo bengalensis (etymology: Bubo from Latin meaning Eagle Owl probably from the call, and bengalensis from Bengal after which many faunal and floral forms are named). It is also known as the Rock Horned Owl, Rock Eagle Owl, Bengal Eagle Owl and Great Horned Owl – the last term used by Dr. Sálim Ali and Ripley, but internationally accepted to be that of the American species Bubo virgianus. At one time it was considered a sub-species of the Eurasian Eagle Owl Bubo bubo, but molecular analysis has proved beyond doubt that it is a species in its own right. In Auroville this species is confined to the ravines and is rarely found in vegetated areas, though in the near vicinity it is found on an isolated rocky outcropping. Over most of the Deccan it frequents hillocks and hilly areas covered with scrub, and it is my personal theory that the species adapted to life in the ravines on account of similar nesting sites. This is one of the few species of owls that is not a cavity nester, nor builds or appropriates nests of other raptors, preferring to breed in bare sheltered areas… sometimes no more than a scrape in the ground. In these areas the breeding season can start any time from the beginning of the year. The young remain with the parents until September or October, until the commencement of the monsoons. The young will stay with the parents until they are capable of hunting on their own. The primary nourishment comes from rodents and hares, though the owls also feed on birds and frogs, with the odd insect, scorpion and centipede adding grist to the mill. It is the apex predator in the ravines and will attack, kill and partly eat other owls and diurnal birds of prey – what is termed ‘intraguild aggression’, the same way early humans and large carnivores competed for the same space and food. This is my primary study subject and since I have written about it in Sanctuary Asia (http://www.sanctuaryasia.com/magazines/features/9894-notes-from-a-bubophile.html) earlier, I will not dwell on this.

A late entrant to Auroville – in fact I first came upon it only in the year 2001 – is the Mottled Wood Owl Strix ocellata (etymology: in Latin Stryx for a Screech Owl, and ocellata from ocellus meaning ‘eylet or little eye’ pertaining to the eye-like markings). This is a rare and extremely shy species, reliant on ‘old growth’ which provides large-enough nesting cavities. The owl’s presence can usually be detected only by its unique quavering ooooo-whaaaa call, usually repeated three times in a row – a call I can imitate quite reasonably and have used to dupe a gullible American one night who enthusiastically wrote about hearing the bird in her report. Strictly nocturnal, it also utters a toot at the onset of dusk. Beyond this, I personally know little of its habits and behaviour.

Photo: A. Lakshmikantan. Spotted Owlet

More owls

A rare visitor to Auroville – I have recorded it just once in Auroville’s flooded fields – is the Short-eared Owl Asio flammeus (etymology: Asio, from Pliny’s mention of an eared or horned owl, and flammeus from Latin meaning ‘flame coloured, flaming or fiery’). Though rare in Auroville, it is quite common during its winter migration in the famous Kaliveli floodplain a couple of kilometres north of Auroville. During its short residency, it can be observed even in broad daylight, usually sitting or walking about on the ground.  Since its period of occurrence is so short, we have not been able to gather data on the species, hence I cannot comment more on it.

One species that was said to be quite common in Auroville is the Barn Owl Tyto alba(etymology: Tyto, from the Greek tuto meaning an ‘owl’, and the Latin albusmeaning ‘white’ and pertaining to its white underparts). This is one species that I have had little opportunity to examine, in spite of it being said to be common. In Auroville township I have encountered it only on a couple of occasions in a ravine and have never seen or heard it in forested areas and human habitations bordering fields, unlike in the Cauvery Delta and other places in Tamil Nadu where it is quite abundant and has been part of ongoing studies. I find this alarming because whenever we converse with farmers in the region they all assure us that at one time it used to be quite common, but not anymore. More information has to be compiled but I suspect the indiscriminate use of pesticides could be the cause of the decline in its population.

As always there is always a silver lining to a dark cloud and we may be able to do justice to this most maligned bird – its Tamil name is ‘chavu kuruvi’, literally meaning ‘bird of death’. Our organisation, the Kaliveli Environment Education Trust, has been working in the Kaliveli watershed, in an area of over 700 sq. km. comprising wetland, fragmented forest blocks and sacred groves, farmland and rural habitation of which the township is only a small part. Twenty kilometres away from Auroville Township, on our trust land, an area of 40 or so acres has been undergoing reforestation for about a decade. We hope we will be able to piece together the natural history of the Barn Owl in this region since there is a breeding pair at the site. But an issue remains – the land is bordered by fields and assuredly the owls must be hunting for rodents in them. Problems and frustrations are part and parcel of the life of a wildlife biologist and I am under no delusions of the success of the venture. But if we can holistically unravel even the minutest detail of land use and correlate it to the diet, prey density and breeding potential of a predatory species we would have made a significant step in the right direction.

Author: Eric Ramanujam, First appeared in: Sanctuary Asia, Vol. XXXVI No. 8, August 2016.

Short-eared owl seen

• Prakash Gururajan spots and photographs a rare short-eared owl in Pachapalayam grasslands on the outskirts of Coimbatore
   
  Mottled Wood Owl
• 
  A RARE WINTER VISITOR FROM EUROPE: The Short-eared Owl. Photo: Prakash. G

A rare winter visitor has caught the attention of birders in the city. It has a distinct pair of short ears and goes by the name Short-Eared Owl. Birder Prakash Gururajan spotted it on February 26 at Pachapalayam dry grasslands on Siruvani Road. “After that, I have made multiple trips to the grasslands along with the members of Coimbatore Nature Society to see the bird,” he says.

It’s a winter passage migrant and is likely spend a short time here till the food supply dries out.

“The short-eared owl hunts for the prey in the day time unlike the nocturnal ones. The body colours serve as a camouflage on the grasslands,” he says.

Prakash had spotted small birds like larks and pipits perched on the ground and in good numbers at the grasslands.

He returned there to see if he could spot some other elusive ones such as the Oriental skylark.

“In February, I spotted the ashy Pallid Harrier taking off from the ground. I trekked further down looking for a Pallid Harrier or a Montagu Harrier when I spotted a raptor like bird flying low at 150 meters distance from me and landed. I stopped at about 50 metres to ensure that the bird is not disturbed and photographed it through the grass. It was the short-eared owl. It stayed there till the crows and drongos chased it away,” he says. They are competitors for the same prey.

The birder says the CNS team has also spotted the Mottled Wood Owl, at Mathipalayam on Siruvani Road. “We have made frequent trips to record and study the habitat of these birds. I also spotted the Indian Pita, Malabar Whistling Thrush and Niligirs Laughing Thrush near the Paambu Sitthar caves at Marudhamalai.”

Prakash reinforces the need to protect the habitat. He says, “If the dry grassland is left undisturbed, these species will thrive in good numbers and help the ecosystem too.”

A January 1st filled with bird song and children's laughter

During our Rishi Valley term visit

At the guest house.

In the senior school, a pair of Collared Scops Owl have taken residence.  One of them looked down at me with amusement (I thought) as I tried not to look nervous at the thought of meeting my son's teachers!!

The sugarcane was flowering, and the bulbuls were delighted.

The Baya weavers were gearing up for the nesting season

The cloud cover kept us warm

The parakeets were not discrete
The munias were such a treat.

The oriole lurked among the branches
As did the coucal, making no advances.

Why does birdsong always fill my heart?
Or was it the the sight of our son, so long apart?

Spotted! Owlet at Children's Park.

Dec 18th - Children's Park - Nizhal Marghazhi walk

Had a delightful stroll with a large bunch of adults and kids through the Children's Park, Guindy.  Everytime I visit the park, I love the walk through the trees, and despite the hordes of people and buses in the car park, they all seem to go to other parts of the park!

A spotted owlet, spotted because it "blessed" one of the walkers right below!

The soapnut tree with lots of nuts.

The inky marams were in fruit too.

Ouch!  And why do they have to nail the boards, so?

Still more walks coming up:

Semmozhi - Dec 25th - Sun 10.30 am and Jan 7th - Sat morn 10.30 am


Children's Park - Dec 31st - Sat 10.30 am and Jan 8th - Sun 4 pm.


Panagal park as well - Dec 24th - Sat 4pm and Jan 1st - Sun morn 10.30 am


Dont miss them!

The miseries of being an Owl

This last month, I learnt something, which I wish I had not.  Or rather, I wish was not true.

It all started with an excited email from one of the MNS members sharing a photo of the owl at Nanmangalam, and how there were two new chicks.  Oh wow, I thought, thats so good, to know they are progressing nicely in our very own reserve forest.

However,  there was a flurry of cautionary emails from more experienced members and they painted a rather ominous and gloomy picture.  

Here's a gist of the quotes:-

On photographing of nesting Great Horned Owls in Nanmangalam RF: As naturalists I am sure you all would take care not to disturb the breeding birds. But we should also be aware that the people who use this RF for various purposes are also watching us. When they watch us photographing they would know the breeding birds’ location. Out of curiosity or for several other reasons they do go near the nest / disturb or injure the adult bird or the chicks…

Too much publicity could have adverse and unfortunate consequences. In the interest of the birds one should practice restraint both in photography and observation.

Isn't it better that we visit the place more often and more frequently, so that the RF becomes too "public" and too "visible" for anti-social elements? If we stay away, then we are allowing these anti-socials to "rule" the place.

…a greater presence of concerned (and genuine) birdwatchers could well be healthy for the place and the birds because this will eventually edge out the poachers and other elements. What is desirable here is the declaration of this area into a sanctuary (not just a Reserve which it already is. What is probably a better solution is what I have heard is already in the wind -- the creation of an eco-park at the site. An eco-park scores over a sanctuary in that it is easier to implement because it is public-friendly, something that appeals to any government, and at the same time affords full protection to the resident wildlife. A look at the Poonga will confirm this.

I agree with the note of caution expressed. There is illegal trade in owls in the country. A picture of the nest and details of its location are an open invitation to poachers. Moreover, any nest photography is now discouraged. If you see a nest, just look at it, be thankful that the birds are breeding and move away quietly.

I was really shocked at that last comment.  Why would anyone covet an owl?  And then this article was posted....

Sad, Wise Eyes

By Shruti Ravindran

Outlook Magazine

Why owls are the target of poachers and trappers:

• Used for tantrik rites and occult practices
  
• Are believed to bring riches, as Lakshmi, Goddess of Wealth, rides on one
  
• In South India, owls’ hoots are thought to predict fate – one signifying imminent death, two, imminent success, three, a marriage, etc.
  
• Tantriks and rural medicine men prescribe: owl-eye broth for night-vision, owl claws as good luck charms, owl feathers to repel evil spirits, owl meat as aphrodisiac, owl torture for directions to hidden treasure.
  

Price they fetch: from Rs 5,000 up to Rs 8 lakh for Barn Owl or Great Horned Owl

Threatened species: Barn Owl, Eastern Grass Owl, Collared Scops Owl, Great Horned Owl (Eurasian Eagle Owl), Brown Fish Owl, Spotted Owlet, Jungle Owlet, Asian Barred Owlet

Most in demand: in Gujarat, Maharashtra, UP, MP, Orissa, West Bengal

Demon birds. Death-portending banshees. Soul-eaters. Owls attract foreboding and superstitious epithets as naturally and irresistibly as pandas attract fond baby-talk and tigers attract awestruck poetry. Their nocturnal nature, their devil-like horns, their sudden screeching from ancient tree-hollows in cemeteries, or the unnerving way they twist their heads around to fix you in a piercing, lidless stare -- all of these traits have long earned them spooky pride of place, along with the bat, in fearful folk tales and horror films. Now, they’re also earning them death sentences, thanks to tantriks and medicine men, who use them in black magic rituals and ‘miracle-cures’ for their gullible clientele.

Abrar Ahmed, consultant with Traffic, a body which monitors wildlife trade, has been tracking the owl trade for the past three years – more than a decade after he first stumbled on it while researching a countrywide report on the illegal bird trade. His research has taken him to desolate trappers’ houses along the tribal belt to village markets spanning all of north India, and the bird bazaars of bigger cities like Lucknow and Delhi. "There are 29 species of owls in India," says Ahmed. "Of these, half are used for some nefarious purpose or the other."

The most common purpose is witchcraft. As the vehicle of Goddess Lakshmi, the owl is associated with wealth. So, those hoping to strike it rich with the help of an occult boost visit tantriks around the festive season of Diwali and Durga Puja. The tantriks then conduct owl-sacrifices, anoint their customers with sacrificial owl blood and give them an owl-claw; guaranteed, they say, to act as a lightning rod for a massive fortune. This sounds like a gruesome, senseless activity, but it’s one that even educated, city-dwelling denizens of Mumbai, Ahmedabad, Delhi and Calcutta indulge in.

Industrialists, particularly in these bleak recession times, willingly fork out up to 8 lakh for a gold-and-grey Barn Owl or a Great Horned Owl (Eurasian Eagle Owl). Since these species are hard to find, trappers and middlemen often try to disguise the poor little Spotted Owlet as a juvenile Horned Owl by fashioning ear-tufts out of pasted feathers, and staining its eyes with toxic orange-coloured ink.

Village haats and small-town markets abound in luridly illustrated black magic booklets that advocate owl-bone amulets as charms, owl-eye broth for improving night-vision, owl-meat for rheumatism, seizures, and as an aphrodisiac. "We’ve come across some stomach-turning recipes," says Samir Sinha, Head of Traffic, "Concoctions with owls’ ear-tufts, brains and eyes, to hypnotise someone and make them a slave for life." Some booklets also recommend that owls – when tortured or starved – will be persuaded to reveal, in a human voice, the locations of hidden treasure.

As Sinha ruefully observes, "There’s no end to human stupidity or faith, and there’s a thin line between the two!"
Bird-baiting is another market force that drives the owl-trade, though to a significantly smaller extent.

Owls – particularly the Spotted Owlet and Jungle Owlet – serve as decoys for bird trappers trying to catch bulbuls and sunbirds for the pet trade. Trappers use the owlets as conspicuous bait, and have cruel means of keeping them stationary, such as stitching their eyes closed and forcefeeding them enormous quantities of mice so that they become sluggish . Owls are also used in street performances, ‘blessing’ amulets for onlookers to purchase. Some adivasi folk, such as the Bahelias and Chirimars of Central India, even eat the white-faced Grass Owl for the stringy, meagre sustenance it offers them.

Word of the growing demand for owls and the astronomical prices they can fetch has made its way down south. Trappers are descending into forests and grasslands, and coming out with sackfuls of Great Horned Owls, Barn Owls and Scops Owls. These are among the six species of owls that are being trafficked to the north, according to recent reports from Kerala. Trappers have set to work in Chennai too. Recently, a group of naturalists dismantled traps around nesting sites of the Great Horned Owl in a rocky outcrop in the outskirts of the city.

While the scale of the owl-trade may be negligible compared to the trade in popular ‘ornamental’ parakeets or munias, the immediate ecological impact is far graver. As predators, owls are highly effective pest-control agents. A single Horned Owl snacks on at least three large, plump rats per day.So, when the owl population decreases, the rodent population increases exponentially, laying waste to crops. That’s why forest officials in Kerala have noticed an increasingly flourishing rodent population in the state. Farmers in Tamil Nadu and Kerala have taken to putting up attractive perches to lure owls to dine on the pests ravaging their fields.

In South Indian cities, however, owls are not made to feel quite as welcome, mostly due to prevalent superstitious beliefs, such as one that holds that a single owl hoot is an omen of imminent death. Says Chennai-based naturalist Anantanarayan Rajaram: "Tenants who share my flat complex want strong lights to be installed on the roof to ward off the Barn Owls that seek shelter there, because they consider all owls to be harbingers of evil." Kerala city dwellers tend to be equally hostile, he adds. "There, the Brown Wood Owl is held in fear for its call: ‘powwa powwa’, which means "Going, going", and signifies that a person around the area will die soon."

Sadly, at the rate at which owls are getting decimated, the next dolorous ‘to-whoot’ you hear may well be signalling its own end.

Do see the original article, there are some pitiful pictures of owls trapped, with ink-stained eyes, and God knows what else.

In this case, my ignorance was bliss, I think.

The great horned owl at Nanmangalam

My first encounter with the Great Horned Owl, GHO or Bubo bubo was not so long ago at Nanmangalam.

Mr Ramanan, a veteran of many a GHO encounter, was there again recently, and captured this magnificent picture above.  These large birds are quite something else.   They breed post-monsoon, so maybe another set of chicks we shall soon see?  We had seen some chicks during the bird race, earlier this year.  Quite grown they were by then.  Read about it here.  

Recounting an interesting story, Mr Ramanan narrated how, in the early days there were no roads around Nanmangalam, and the Velachery roads were all full of potholes, and in some places a mud track as well.  The Nanmangalam scrub was not that thick either, and the planted eucalytus was also still young.

Not familiar with the ways of the Bubo bubo, learning was by experience, which included getting his ear clipped by this large owl!  Using the help of a shepherd boy, Mr Ramanan would scramble up to the nest of the GHO, to check and record the growth of the chicks.  

While inspecting the nest for recording the growth of the chick, the adult GHO clipped my ear! From that day onwards I used to wear a helmet whenever I approached the nest!  May be my regular presence and the fact that I was not a threat to the chick, the adult bird became some what friendly.  When ever I was alone or with MNS members or with lot of birds enthusiasts from abroad, the bird immediately with loud calls of "bubo bubo" approached us."

The adult that clipped his ear!

Through his numerous visits, he has seen the "broken wing" and the threat displays of the GHO.  Hopefully, one day I will see this fascinating behaviour.

What the owl does when it feels that its nest is under threat is that it lands on the ground some distance from the threat, acts as if its wing is broken and scurries along the ground, leading the threat away from the nest.  When it feels that the prey/stranger is far enough away from the nest, it takes off and flies back to the nest.

Amazing isnt it!

A broken wing display

Then there is the "threat" display, where the GHO would call its mate and then the two birds would puff their feathers out spread their wings, and look as menacing as possible, making threatening sounds, and swaying back and forth on their legs.

The threat display

Mr Ramanan recalls that he has seen three consecutive broods of the same pair of GHOs, over the span of a few years, and once also saw two pairs breeding together!

I sincerely hope the GHOs continue to survive and thrive in the Nanmangalam quarries.

Not much luck for the Bubo bubo team - The Chennai Bird Race

5:45 am Sunday morning, Feb 3rd 2008, and the three of us, and our neighbour Sheila set off on our quest to see how many types of birds we would see through the day. We had signed up as the Bubo Bubo team, to take part in the first ever Chennai Bird Race.

Rules were simple - we had to stick together, tick off the birds we spotted in a checklist, and return by 6-30 in the evening. Lateness would invite disqualification, we were told.

So off we went, with my husband being driver for the day, and with my son providing comic relief, and with Sheila and me the supposed birders of the team. (More like the blind leading the blind it was!)

Chembarambakkam lake was our first halt. This huge lake provides the city of Madras with our water, and though I have it seen it from the highway on our several roadtrips to Bangalore, I have not actually stopped and had a dekko. Sheila having been there last month gave us directions. "Turn in at Enterprising Enterprises". So, if any of you want to go the bund, that's the directions for you!

The lake bund road is really enjoyable and a good picnic spot. There were a bunch of morning walkers, some fisherfolk, washerwomen and some curious bystanders wondering what this odd bunch of green-capped (we had caps courtesy HSBC, which announced "Chennai Bird Race" on them) and binocular-toting people were up to!

The sun was just rising and the light was poor, but the Eurasian Wigeon ducks were identified. I had not seen these ducks before, and was fascinated with the little yellow "namam" of the males.

Then of course was frustrating moment #1 - what was that duck with the white beak? And that one with the red patch? All of us scoured through the duck pages of Salim Ali and Inskipp, but no there was no such bird. Back and forth we went to the book and to our binoculars. But identify it we could not. Out of sheer disgust we gave up, decided to have our sandwiches, and thought gloomily how our identification was starting off on a bad note.

Then was Eureka moment #1! No, its not a duck, but its on the Rails and Sandgrouses page - the white-beaked fellow is a common coot, and the red-patched one is the common moorhen! We all felt rather sheepish, but also elated that we could add some more ticks!

Further up the bund, and after many roller birds, kingfishers, beeeaters, drongoes and treepies and mynahs, we reached a road that forked, with the left fork leading away from the bund. OK, lets try the short-cut back through Kunrathur we decided. The well-topped surface flattered to deceive as we were soon in a mud road that had these huge craters and menacing looking jagged stones all over. The only saving grace was there was no traffic and we could wind our way at will.

Thankfully, this did not last long, and we reached the narrow concreted lanes of Kunrathur, where a gent in a tea shop gave us helpful directions. "Sir, ange rightu ponga (pointing with his left hand), konju doora pona, left cutting varum (now pointing right), adidha main road pallavaram. Now do we follow his hand directions or his verbal?! As we wended our way past cattle and goat and the occasional cyclist having a chat in the middle of the road, we came across Tulakan Street, and if we were in any doubt as to what that meant, it was translated as Muslim Street as well!

Two monstrous L&T cement mixers swerved in from a side road, and then we thankfully stuck to their tail as they cleared the way for us all the way to the Grand Southern Trunk Road near Pallavaram. Past Chrompet, and we see see this huge spaghetti loop-like overbridge. I wonder that people use it, it all looked rather confusing!

Left at the Tambaram station, and on to the Tambaram-Velachery road. We see a family of four on the right-hand side of a median, attempting to ride their two-wheeler across it, to the left-side. I was wonderstruck - they actually managed it!

Nanmangalam: 10 am, on the second stop of our day long bird-spotting race. We stopped off on the Medavakkam high road - its closer to the quarry and its famous resident.

Who is its famous resident you ask? No, no, not Rajni or Aishwarya or Stalin. If you are still in the dark, it means you have not read my earlier entry, Rendezvous with Bubo Bubo. it may be good to do so before reading this!

"Are we having breakfast here?", asked my son hopefully. You see he had come armed with some juice and chocolate milk and sandwiches, but we were not stopping anywhere long enough for him to have it! So, yes the quarry was chosen as the picnic spot for breakfast.

No “landmines” this time, but instead, as soon as we entered this time, we found these mounds of burnt feathers and hair – it was pretty creepy, like some mass murderer had been at work. And a rather unpleasant smell as well. We hurried along, to get away from there as quickly as we could.

First you have a few hundred metres of sparse vegetation, close to a maidan, where you will always find a cricket match in progress. As you walk a bit further, you reach a eaucalyptus grove, which is a noisy zone – filled with bird chatter. On this visit however, a huge flock of mynahs seems to have chased every other bird away, much to our despair, until we heard the lovely call of the red-vented bulbul, and then saw the proud crest of its red-whiskered cousin. Another unidentifiable bird on a tree top, and we proceeded to the quarry.

As we rounded a corner, familiar voices approached and some more green caps led by Chitra appeared. They had finished and were on their way to the next spot. “Two Bubo bubo chicks, as well’” Chitra announced, and then we zipped along, not stopping to look for any other birds. Just as we reached the quarry, there was huge shadow that flitted across in front of us, and as we looked up it was (Mrs?) Bubo bubo herself, flying in the air, and landing on a nearby tree to watch us. What a magnificent sight, and a handsome bird! A hint of cruelty perhaps, in those yellow eyes?

Where were her chicks? We scanned the face of the quarry, and some slight movement caught my eye, and there they were – 2 brown faces, huddled against each other, precariously balanced on a ledge. Did they know to fly? What if they slipped off that edge? Or even fought with each other, like most siblings do?! They were not tiny, like other chicks, at least fifteen inches, from what I could see, but they still looked small compared to their mother. The two exhibited different personalities, and reminded me of my niece and nephew. While one was ever alert, (the one on the left) suspicious and keen to the least sound, the other one had an "oh whatever" attitude and continued to sleep through all the noise we made! See for yourselves.

The quarry itself was full of water, and the green reeds provided camouflage for one little bird/duck, which kept appearing and disappearing. What was it? Try as hard as we could we could not get a good sighting. A red neck, I think, muttered my husband as he caught a fleeting glance through his binoculars, and in a flash it was gone. Not very good are we? Anyway, at the end of the day we were kindly informed by our fellow birders that that was a Little Grebe, or dabchick. Now of course, to confuse beginners like us, this fellow has to show up with the cormorants and darters, and not with the ducks!

My son by now had opened up his goody bag and was busy chowing away, when another team of bird racers came by, and we showed them (very proudly), the juvenile owls on the ledge.

There were sunbirds a plenty, with their purple plumage catching the sunlight, as they streaked across, from bush to bush. As we returned, we saw a shikra above us, but when we looked through our binoculars, we saw that it was being bothered by a group of flying insects – bees probably? – buzzing around its face!

Back past the feather mounds and into the car, to stopover at Pallikaranai.

Pallikaranai - 1:00 pm, - going back home for lunch. (This in itself would cause all the seasoned birders to raise their eyebrows - you mean you actually took a break?) En route, we keep our eyes open as the Pallikaranai marsh is on our right. Huge mounds of mud block our view, then in a gap, we see literally thousands of birds! Stop the car!

Out we scramble, my husband and son decide to sit in the car, and so I dont have a camera to catch my bird of the day. Something I was seeing for the first time - a Purple Heron. I stood fascinated watching it move in its slow, deliberate fashion as it trod across the marsh, and posed so that I could see its "kudmi" and aquiline profile!

As Sheila tried to decipher whether some of the other birds were sandpipers or a pipits, this heron kept me rather distracted! Swifts swooped in hundreds over the water's surface, egrets - small, medium and large stared meditatively into the water and hundreds of black-winged stilts hopped around. Every time they pulled their red legs out of the marsh, they appeared black with mud, and at one point I was wondering whether these black-legged birds was another species!

On the electric pylons in the distance, were these large birds- pelicans and storks.

Despite the garbage being dumped and burned in the marsh, despite the land reclamation and high level of construction activity, despite the heavy traffic on the road, these birds continue to consider Pallikaranai their home. But for how long? Will the government declaration of the marsh as a protected land, make a positive difference from now on? Hats off to all the dedicated naturalists, citizens and environmentalists who worked doggedly, to make this happen.

Though I was elated with my purple heron, we were also very depressed at the state of the marsh. Further depression was to follow in the evening, but that's another story.

The mouth of the Adyar, 4:00pm,: After a snooze and a refreshing cup of tea, we set out again, though not far - to the mouth of the Adyar river, next to the TS(Theosophical Society). I had hoped that during our break in Thiruvanmyur, I would spot the hoopoe or the barbet or the tailorbird, which unfailingly comes to the tree outside our window. Ofcourse it didnt. Murphy's Law. Even the rock pigeons were strangely silent!

We walked through the Urur Olcott Kuppam, where residents were relaxing on the streets on a Sunday afternoon. One group of women eyed us with curiosity, and one called out to me in Tamil, asking for the time. When I answered her in Tamil, she was most disappointed, and muttered to her friends, "ivingu thamizh pesurangu"! Maybe we looked like some exotic species of humans from far north - migratory birds - as far as they were concerned.

Anyway, it was a longish walk to the rivermouth, as we skirted the walls of the TS, past the turtle hatchery enclosure, past groups of cricket playing youth, until we reached the old, broken down remnants of the original bridge. Empty bottles, garbage, plastic bags and other such urban waste greeted our eyes, but couldn't take away from the beauty of the river meeting the sea, the cool breeze, vast expanse and the birds.


But they - the birds I mean - were so far away! How in the world were we beginners to identify them? They all looked feathered, and brown and small! The ones we could identify were the large egrets, and the jungle crow! After a while we gave up. They could have been plovers or godwits, or sandpipers, we could not make out. We started on our return, deciding to stop by at Madras Club and Adyar Poonga if time permits. Once again as we trooped through the village, the ladies' group ha d alot to say among themselves. Maybe they had gone to see turtles, anyway they know tamil, from here only, what a big camera that man has, were some of the comments that we invited!

The club is a sure shot for rose-ringed parakeets, but that day they outdid themseves, they were all over, screeching and swooping, and looking down at us from the trees. I have seen woodpeckers and a spotted owlet in the trees, but no luck that day. Neither were the stints or godwits in the water. Grumbling about our poor luck, we got into the car, and realised it was too late to go to the Poonga. (As it turned out, I believe it was full of birds!)

6:15 pm - Reached the hotel. Last minute filling in of our names and tallying the birds we saw. A grand total of 43. We were rather pleased with ourselves, until we realised that the average a team saw was around 80! And to put it further in perspective, the winning team saw 120!!

After waiting endlessly (or so it seemed) for our chief guest to appear, the formalities were got through, and we all had a sumptous dinner, exchanged our stories, and vowed to do better next year!

The other MNS members had seen two birds rarely spotted - the Peregrine Falcon, and the Indian courser.

And so ended our bird race. Hopefully, next time around, our combined spotting and identifying skills have improved!