Urban greening

Chennai’s green denizens - The Hindu



A look at some indigenous varieties that need reviving in the city



Meghna Majumdar

It’s another stifling, humid Chennai afternoon: summer is clearly on her way. The street outside Kotturpuram Tree Park looks deserted; people prefer the shaded shelter of shops, offices, temples or tea stalls. Anything with walls and a roof to shut out the glowering sun. But inside the park, the elements seem to be at peace.



Joggers in track suits set a brisk pace in surprisingly pleasant weather, doing two, even three rounds of the park under a mild, shaded version of the 4 pm sun. They throw warm smiles towards naturalist Shobha Menon as she gives me a tour of the park, introducing me to its green inhabitants. There are those that can be commonly found around the city, such as the sarakondrai or the golden-flowered Indian laburnum tree, and the pungam or Pongamia pinnata. And then, there are other trees, also indigenous to the land, that are slowly dying out.



“When you use the term ‘indigenous’, people talk about species like neem and say that they are planting it. But there are other species which are a little harder to find today, and because of that extra bit of effort needed, we hardly see them around the city,” says Menon, who along with a small group of people from Nizhal, created this oasis on a barren plot of land over the past few years.



Chennai’s green denizens

She points out the more rare trees as we pass them, listing out their significance. The bark of the Arjuna tree (Terminalia arjuna) is used in medicine. The veppalai (Wrightia tinctoria) is also called dyer’s oleander, because its leaves yield a blue dye called pala indigo. Flowers of the vengai (Pterocarpus marsupium) or Indian kino, reminscent of a tiger’s hide, find space in Tamil folklore and poems of yore. Its bark, she says, is used in Ayurveda.



But it isn’t just about what the trees mean to us: they have a larger role to play in the ecology as well. Pauline Deborah, assistant professor, Department of Plant Biology and Plant Biotechnology, Women’s Christian College, talks of the palash (Butea Frondosa) or flame of the forest and the mahizham (Mimusops elengi). “Mimusops elengi, Butea frondosa, Cassia fistula and Azadirachta indica are good native trees suitable for our landscape,” she says, “Scorching summers, severe water crisis and human health can be easily handled with greening, post planting care and managing the environment. Environmental health is the key indicator to a healthy community.”



But that doesn’t mean that one can pick up any native species to plant — ones that give us dye and timber might not be good at providing shade, or could be a strain on the water table. “Planting right species at the right places will facilitate percolation of rain water and help in groundwater recharge. Cutting down of mature trees for infrastructure development should be replaced by planting of trees in the same vicinity to alleviate heat, noise, pollution and to serve as carbon sinks.” Deborah has a few tips for those who want to look at planting trees seriously. “Smaller trees for small roads (powder puff, peacock flower, yellow bells) and larger trees for wide trees (neem, Spanish cherry, ficus, red bead tree etc),” she lists out, adding, “Saplings need to have breathing space; they are not to be choked with trenches and concrete.”



What both Menon and Deborah concur on, is that no sapling should be planted during the summer. Wait for it to rain, so they can quench their thirst. And give them space where they can breathe.



Local varieties can be picked up from Kotturpuram Tree Park.

Forest cover losses everywhere

Eastern Ghats face loss of forest cover, endemic plants - The Hindu



Forest cover shrunk from 43.4% to 27.5% in 95 years



Aswathi Pacha

The Eastern Ghats spread across Odisha, Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, has lost almost 16% of its forest area over a span of 100 years, a recently published study shows.



Researchers from the University of Hyderabad studied historical maps and satellite images from 1920 to 2015 to understand the changes in land use and land cover. The forest cover, which was 43.4% of the total geographical area in 1920, has reduced drastically to 27.5% in 2015. Over the years, about 8% of forest area was converted into agricultural fields, while about 4% converted into scrub or grassland.



They also found that the number of patches of land had increased indicating fragmentation. In 1920 there were about 1,379 patches which kept steadily increasing over the years reaching a whopping number of 9,457 in 2015.



Threat to species



Previous studies have shown that the Eastern Ghats is home to more than 2,600 plant species and this habitat fragmentation and destruction can pose a serious threat to the endemic plants.



“We have sampling points across the four States where we regularly monitor the plants. When we carried out forest map overlay informatics analysis, we found fragmentation in areas where there are several rare, endangered, threatened and endemic species. Best suitable habitats for the plant species have decreased in the Eastern Ghats,” says Reshma M. Ramachandran, Ph.D. scholar at the Centre for Earth, Ocean and Atmospheric Sciences, University of Hyderabad and first author of the paper published in Ecological Indicators.



Habitat reduction mainly occurred in the districts of Gajapati (Odisha), Mahbubnagar (Telangana), and also in Nallamalai and Kolli hill ranges.



While agriculture was the main reason for deforestation during the early years, post 1975, mining and other developmental activities such as the construction of dams, roads were the culprits. In 1920, the mining area was only 622 sq.km, and in 2015 it had increased to 962 sq.km.



“The Eastern Ghats are often ignored. Even stakeholders are interested only in the Western Ghats and Himalayan studies. But they need to understand that the Eastern Ghats are also ecologically important. They play an important role in the monsoon break of both North-East and South-West Monsoon,” says Dr. Parth Sarathi Roy from Centre for Earth, Ocean and Atmospheric Sciences, University of Hyderabad. “There are also many tribal communities in this region and the government needs to shift its focus and fund more studies and monitoring programmes in this region.”

The amazing mimicry of the drongo

It’s a frog! It’s a squirrel! It’s a drongo - ALL - The Hindu



The racket-tailed drongos are great mimics and make good use of the skill



Samira Agnihotri can take you to the exact spot where she had her mind blown more than a decade ago. As a postgraduate student of wildlife biology, she was recording birdsong at BRT Wildlife Sanctuary in Karnataka when a greater racket-tailed drongo, sitting on a tree stump, mimicked the call of a crested serpent eagle, before switching seamlessly to a flameback woodpecker and then a jungle babbler. As the impressed researcher watched the dove-sized copycat, her Soliga field assistant, Madha, commented, “You should do your Ph.D on this bird since it is doing a Ph.D on all the other birds.”



Little did she realise then that was the course her career would take. The drongo’s performance became the focus of not just her Ph.D but her postdoctoral as well.



Agnihotri was bird crazy since she was a three-year-old watching an ashy prinia nest in her family’s backyard in Vadodara. The eggs were blood red, she recalled. Love of the outdoors ran in her family as they vacationed in wild places every year. Her great grandfather wrote a book on Indian wildlife in Hindi. One of the first books she read was Salim Ali’s The Book of Indian Birds . Ali writes that the racket-tailed drongo in flight with its long tail feathers streaming behind it gives “the illusion of the bird being pursued by a pair of large bumble bees.”



Tailored calls



Over the course of 15 years, Agnihotri recorded racket-tailed drongos imitating nearly 40 species of birds, two mammals, two frogs and even an insect. This extensive repertoire doesn’t mean they learn every sound they hear and reproduce it for no reason at all. Instead, they tailor their calls to regale their audience. They impress potential mates with the breadth and complexity of their performance.



However, drongos don’t restrict mimicry to their breeding season alone. They make good use of this skill to fill their stomachs. Racket-tailed drongos join hunting parties of babblers, bulbuls, and warblers. They let the others hop around and flip leaves while they sit on a high perch and keep a sharp eye. When insects stirred up by the hard-working hunters fly out, they snatch them.



The drongos don’t hobnob only with other birds. Some mimic bonnet macaques which Agnihotri thinks startles the primates to move and rouse up insects. The Soliga declare the dodda karali , as they call the racket-tailed drongo, the laziest birds they have seen.



Instead of physical labour, the racket-tailed drongos invest in vocal artistry. They mimic the calls of species with whom they hang out. If they want to join a flock of jungle babblers, they imitate those grating cries. When consorting with woodpeckers, they twitter like them.



As sentinels, the drongos impersonate the agitated calls of other species, as if alerting them of an approaching predator in their language spreads the message better. This rallies the entire mob to drive the menace away or flee from it. They amplify others’ warnings too. When giant squirrels warn of a raptor flying over the canopy, the racket-tailed drongos copy the mammals’ toy gun-like rattle. Why mimic squirrels instead of sounding their own alarm calls remains an unsolved mystery, says Agnihotri.



Recognising this role, the Soliga also call the species, kolu kaara (stick-bearer) or ‘policeman of the birds’. They liken them to an elder who maintains peace and order within the community. For performing this duty, the Soliga say, the other birds offer a feather each to the drongo.



Upper hand



Drongos also scare the daylights out of small predators, such as crows, by imitating eagles. Matching calls to the correct species is a remarkable feat, but they also seem to know who has the upper hand over them.



Agnihotri’s field assistants have climbed up trees with drongo nests to ring the legs of nestlings with coloured bands. Once the chicks become adults, they will be easier to recognise as individuals. Some drongo parents were baffled by the tree climbers. Agnihotri watched as the anxious birds sought to chase the Soliga as they would a predator. They mimicked the calls of scimitar babblers. When that didn’t scare the humans, they chose the cries of large animals such as bonnet macaques and giant squirrels. That failed too, and they resorted to eagle shrieks. “They tried everything,” Agnihotri says. “But they didn’t know what would scare the men.”



Despite their ability to fool others, the drongos are not above petty thievery. When other birds have a morsel that one covets, it swoops at them while screaming aggressively. It may throw in some imitations too. The scared bird drops its prey which the drongo grabs. The skill that delivers supper here is not mimicry but straightforward bullying. But Agnihotri is as impressed by the drongo’s intelligence which makes the phrase ‘bird brain’ sound like a compliment.



Agnihotri recorded racket-tailed drongos imitating nearly 40 species of birds, two mammals, two frogs and even an insect

Singing bushlark spotted in Coimbatore

Singing bushlark spotted in Coimbatore - TAMIL NADU - The Hindu





In what appears to be a rare sighting, Coimbatore-based bird watcher Balaji P.B. spotted and photographed a Singing bushlark (Mirafra cantillans) in Coimbatore recently.



First record



Mr. Balaji, a member of Coimbatore Nature Society (CNS) and Salim Ali Naturalists Forum, claimed that his sighting of the bird in an open field at Kalangal near Sulur on March 19 was the first record of the species in Tamil Nadu.



Mr. Balaji, who holds a certificate in ornithology from Bombay Natural History Society, said that the rare sighting of the bird in Coimbatore was verified using ebird, an online platform for birdwatchers to report sightings.



“The identity of the bird has been confirmed with experts. Singing bushlark will be Coimbatore’s 390th bird, based on second edition of the check-list of the Birds of Coimbatore released by Coimbatore Nature Society on July 21, 2018,” he said.



A species of lark found in Africa, the Middle East, and South Asia, Singing bushlark is largely seen in open dry shrub, fallow cultivation and grassland.



The bird feeds on insects, ants, seeds of grasses and weeds among others.



Song-flight



In his book ‘Book of Indian Birds’, Salim Ali, the birdman of India, has noted that the song-flight of the male during breeding season is a “remarkable performance”. According to him, it is very difficult to distinguish the bird from other similar larks.



“The bird rises about 30 m up in the air - a lower ceiling than the skylark’s - and hovers on stiffly quivering wings in the style of the skylark, drifting hither and tither in the breeze, and back and forth over an extensive area for considerable periods,” notes Ali about the bird. The spirited and sustained rendering of the flight song of Singing bushlark incorporates imitations of the calls of most of the birds which share its habitat.



With a breeding season ranging from March to September, the bird makes a shallow grass cup lined with fine grass as its nest. It is placed on the ground, well concealed in a clump of grass. The bird usually lays two to four eggs.



Mr. Balaji, one of the editors of ‘Birds of Coimbatore’ brought out by CII-Yi and CNS in 2015, is credited with several first sightings in Coimbatore like that of White stork, Black stork, Rufous-tailed Lark and Indian Spotted eagle.

those names that we only read about...

Martin Woodcock obituary

Stephen MossMon 11 Mar 2019 16.05 GMT

Artist admired for the illustrations that grace the pages of the monumental The Birds of Africa, first published in the early 1980s

Amid the economic uncertainty of the mid 1970s not many people gave up a job in the City of London. But in 1974, Martin Woodcock did just that, swapping life as a stockbroker to become a freelance bird artist.

He never looked back. Martin, who has died aged 84, spent the rest of his distinguished career travelling through Asia and Africa to observe, draw and paint some of the world’s most elusive birds. His masterwork, which kept him busy for almost three decades, was the monumental, multivolume The Birds of Africa, for which he painted more than 200 colour plates.

Born in Sidcup, Kent, Martin was educated in Sussex at Ashdown House prep school, Forest Row, and Christ’s Hospital, Horsham. His father, Percy, who died when Martin was six months old, was a stockbroker; his mother, Norah (nee Blake), worked as a secretary at the BBC. His only sister, Nan, was 12 years older than him, so as a child he was often left to his own devices.

A history teacher, Bert Bury, encouraged his interest in birds, which had been sparked by an encounter with a flock of goldfinches at the age of eight. Exploring Ashdown Forest by bicycle, with the Battle of Britain raging overhead, Martin began keeping an illustrated diary of the birds he saw, a habit he continued for the rest of his life.

He taught himself to draw at a young age, and was influenced by the early 20th-century painters Archibald Thorburn and George Edward Lodge. But in those days, there were virtually no opportunities for professional bird artists; so after national service in the Royal Artillery (1954-56), Martin followed his late father into stockbroking, staying in the profession for the next 18 years.

The impetus to switch careers came when he was asked to illustrate the forthcoming Field Guide to the Birds of South-East Asia, written by the ornithologists Ben King and Edward C Dickinson, which was published by Collins in 1975. Other commissions soon followed, but it was The Birds of Africa that gave him his big break, and some level of security in a precarious profession. He illustrated all seven volumes published between 1982 and 2004 (an eighth book appeared in 2013).

 Spoonbills on Cley marshes by Martin Woodcock

Spoonbills on Cley marshes by Martin Woodcock

Martin had first visited Africa in 1961, staying with Nan at her home in Kampala, Uganda. In his delightfully informal Safari Sketchbook (2010), he recalled that the very first bird he drew was a kingfisher, which he found dead on the tarmac after landing at Entebbe, “before I had taken 10 steps on [Africa’s] red earth”.

 Watcher’s Cottage by Martin Woodcock. It is used by the warden of Cley marshes, Norfolk, and owned by the Norfolk Wildlife Trust.

Watcher’s Cottage by Martin Woodcock. It is used by the warden of Cley marshes, Norfolk, and owned by the Norfolk Wildlife Trust. Illustration: Martin Woodcock

For much of the 1980s and 90s, Martin went on research expeditions throughout the continent, making field notes and sketches of some of the world’s rarest birds, many of which had never been illustrated before. By the time the project finished, he had completed over 5,000 separate illustrations of more than 2,000 different species.

In 1994, Martin became the first chair (and later president) of the African Bird Club. His experience, network of contacts and the high regard in which he was held by the African birding community soon helped to establish the organisation at the forefront of international conservation efforts.

Following encouragement from friends, Martin published in 2013 a slim volume of poetry, Drawing Together, which revealed an acute eye for observation and sensitivity to language. In one poem, A Tale of Two Wars, he recalled his crucial early encounter with the goldfinches, “like lively notes hung on a silver stave, traced out in scarlet, white and gold”.

In 1963, he had married Heidi Schön, with whom he had three children, Marcus, Nicola and Kirsten. They divorced in 1971. A year later, Martin met Barbara Skailes (nee Paine), who had two children, Duncan and Geraldine. They married in 1977 and brought up their children together.

After moving to north Norfolk in 2000, Martin continued to draw and paint, while the energetic Barbara carried on her picture-framing business.

Even when diagnosed with cancer late last year, he continued to welcome visits from friends. He would regale them with entertaining stories, reflective thoughts about the decline of so many of his beloved birds, and new poems. The last time I saw him, he spoke about that life-changing moment when he gave up his career to become, as he put it, a penniless bird artist – a decision about which he had absolutely no regrets.

He is survived by Barbara, his three children, two stepchildren and 14 grandchildren.

• Martin Wedgwood Woodcock, bird illustrator and artist, born 14 January 1935; died 24 February 2019

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Meet the littles

Meet the littles - Chennai - The Hindu
Prince Frederick




Pint-sized birds make the most of a boggy patch that is fast drying up

A thing of beauty.  Little ringed plover (left); on a slushy patch at Akkarai in
SholinganallurPrince Frederick  

When a birdwatcher’s attention has to be divided among a wide variety of birds, the little stint often receives very little of it. In the Perumbakkam Wetland, I have seen this pint-sized winter visitor getting lost in the crowd. For a few days now, I have been paying this bird almost-undivided attention, thanks to a change of scene. I have once again inked Akkarai into my morning-birdwatching peregrinations. Sometime ago, I stopped having a look-in at a huge boggy patch of earth at Akkarai in Sholinganallur, as the water level there had plummeted significantly and the avian presence on the ground was getting thinner. However, nudged by some sort of a gut feeling, I visited the space a few days ago. Predictably enough, the ground was free of standing water, except for two or three patches.

These patches, located close to a kucha road, had drawn the little stints which probably had earlier been looking for food in the further reaches of this boggy parcel of land, punctuated here and there with grasses.

A day or two from the time of this article seeing the light, these odd patches will dry up. And, on these few remaining days, you can count on me to be in attendance there. The little stints are quick-footed, and in busy flocks, they can rival the nervous energy of ants.

Besides the little stints, an occasional little ringed plover or a lone but cheerful wagtail would show up on these patches. In the avian world, the little ringed plover has one of the most striking colour patterns involving the forehead, crown, eye, nape and throat.

If the avians ever get as self-absorbed as we humans are, and start organising beauty pageants, the little ringed plover can enter a whole range of categories, from beautiful eye ring and eye mask to striking collar. I get all Keatsian when a little ringed plover stays close enough for me to keep staring at its yellow eye ring: It is most definitely a thing of beauty.

Winter field notes - Chennai

Seeing the blue-tailed bee eater this season has been a bonus for me personally, as well as the Spoonbills.



With winter nearing an end, look out for these birds - The Hindu



FIELD NOTES ENVIRONMENT

With winter nearing an end, look out for these birds

Prince Frederick



For a good part of the mornings in Chennai now, the view is marred by a heavy haze effect. Recently, through a white film of fog, I sensed something bumbling through the branches of short trees overlooking the southern section of the Perumbakkam wetland. Following the clutter of claws on these branches, I saw a shock of brown and black settle awkardly on a redwood tree on the other side of the road. It was a greater coucal jumping from branch to branch with its characteristic two left feet.



Walking down the road in Sholinganallur that trots alongside the southern section of the wetland, I once again focussed on the waterbirds. And then it caught my eye again; this time, with its partner in tow. They were exploring this heavily wooded residential area, which is still sparsely populated. A few mornings later, a resident told me about the pair. The same day, I laid eyes on them again. There is a glimmer of a hope that I may chance upon these birds with their brood soon. In these parts, greater coucals are known to breed after the monsoon. The koels and greater coucals belong to the Cuciloforms order. However, unlike the koels, which are brood parasites, laying their eggs in the nest of other birds, usually crows, the greater coucals raise their young.



As a pair ranges over a really wide area, considering it their territory, they may build their nest far removed from their many stomping grounds.



However, knowing that these birds see the leaves of screw-pine trees as a great nesting space, I may take my luck with me to Thaiyur lake, where screw-pine trees grow wildly along the bunds. Well, birdwatcing is not only about patiently waiting for birds to show up. It's also about showing up wherever a bird life cycle takes it.



***

The other day, a bird watcher remarked that the northern shovelers have dwindled in numbers at the Perumbakkam wetland, which led me to focus my attention on this spatulate-billed dabbling duck.



The northern shoveler is one of the four migratory ducks that arrive in large numbers in our parts at wintertime.



This observer seemed to have got it right — their current number at the wetland is probably just one-fifth of what it was, only a month ago.



The northern shoveler displays sexual dimorphism, which is striking during the breeding season. The male northern shoveler is a riot of green, white and chestnut. In the rest of the time, during various periods, the male may lose its iridescent green sheen due to factors such as moulting. At some of these periods, it may take on a shade that is not too removed from the female's. However, at any time, the black bill and the yellow in the eye, serve as the distinguishing marks of the male northern shoveler.



Most of the male northern shovelers hanging around at this wetland still display some shades of their arresting combination of colours.



***

In the last column, I echoed birdwatchers' concern over fast-receding water levels on the southern section of the Perumbakkam wetland. However, this week showed that the situation is nowhere near as bad as feared. The section is hardly bleak. In the early part of this week, I witnessed a huge congregation of ruffs. On Sunday last, marsh sandpipers put on a great display.



However, the news from a boggy patch near Akkarai, where I have noticed interesting birds flock, is disappointing. It has gone dry, dashing my hopes of clicking some good photographs of the little ringed plovers, which have been flocking there in modest numbers of five or six in the mornings. Last morning, when I set foot in this patch, I felt like Thomas Moore, who expressed desolation the best way it could be in his immortal The Light Of Other Days: “I feel like one/ Who treads alone/ Some banquet-hall deserted!”



There is however a happy takeaway from this section, this season — An image of a spotted dove as it was perched briefly on the dead branch of what had earlier been a prosopis juliflora tree. This bird, which is native to our parts, is a necklace-wearing beauty. Judge for yourself.

Winter visitor on a wire

Blue-tailed bee-eater (Merops philippinus) - winter visitor

Season Watch - Porana volubis again

A Photo essay.  Continued from here.  

And the brilliance of the mallow.

PTJ redux

Beautiful capture of Jacanas with a new born chick by Mr Ramanan.  Mr Ramanan's photo essay from the 2017 breeding season is here.  

I went looking for them a few days later with Sheila, and while we did not see the eggs (they had probably all hatched), we saw what was in all likelihood, the third chick.

When we reached, we heard the male PTJ calling in agitation and looking eft and right.  It appeared that he was calling the chicks.  Initially, we saw a slightly larger chick, which subsequently we did not see at all.  (I have read that when they hear an alarm call from the parent, the chicks hide under a floating leaf.  I wonder if that is what it did!

We did spy a littler chick, unsteady on his feet, which seemed to follow the parent, and I marvelled at how they stayed afloat and knew instinctively that they had to put their feet on the leaves and not in the water.  All the time we were there, it was not fed by any parent, unlike other bird chicks, who are constantly crying for food.

The wetlands was filled with the calls of the jacanas, the honks of moorhens, interspersed with the impatient school bus and a motorcycle driving by.  

I was dismayed at the amount of construction that is going on in the marsh.

Its a completely bizarre and distressing site.  There are homes, apartments even, and raised roads, while all the empty plots are filled with water, reeds and remnants of marshland.  It seems insane to come and build here, and even more insane to buy and live here.

The birds are returning to Arunachala

... Enough to warrant a book.

Arun is the kind of modern super hero the world needs. A green warrior who has let his actions speak.  And Chennai's loss is Tiruvannamalai's gain.  He has mobilised and focussed native tree replanting on the hill, along with the prompt dousing of forest fires, and the results are beginning to show, as a forest and an ecosystem comes back to life.

And the returning birds have played their part, dispersing seeds and exponentially leading to forest revival.

The book, published by The Forest Way Trust this year on recycled paper, lists over two hundred species of birds that now can be seen in a 10 km radius around the hill and in the water bodies.  The restoration has been supported by the district administration as well.

Hearing Arun speak about the revival of streams, the local communities working to put out the fires and the survival rate (some 1%) of planted trees, brings home the efforts that have led to this.

In the Introduction to the book, is a paragraph that I particularly like:

But while we humans may feel proud of our efforts to reforest the mountain, thinking that we have proved a home for birds in the process, the truth is that birds themselves have done far more to reforest the Hill than us.  Many of the trees that we see now growing on the mountains were not planted, but came naturally, and it is often the birds that spread the seeds.  And because they can fly, it is possible for birds to bring seeds a good distance from other forest areas, thus increasing the plant diversity of each place.  With this, many forest birds not seen here in living memory, have made their return, like the wonderful Racket-tailed Drone.  This is the most important lesson that we all must learn from nature; that other animals live their lives while making their home a better place for other life too.

All the original artworks in the book are photographs of paintings dome by Tiruvannamalai artist Kumar on limestone slabs in the Arunagiri Forest Park, at the base of Arunachala.

The book introduces Kumar, who began his association in the project as an artist painting birds, and has now become an expert birdwatcher.