Chennai summer colours

Bougainvillae "tree"

Copper Pods and Indian Ash

The trees are abloom
Yellows, whites and pinks
Happy kids
out of school.

Palaash Blossoms and Rosy Starlings - by Yuvan Aves

I came across this beautiful essay in the Madras Naturalists' Society, MNS Blackbuck monthly bulletin, and what a beautiful piece of writing it was for me. I wanted to re-read and store it for easy access, and to share the joy of reading this with more people.

The Palaash is a glorious glorious tree, sadly infrequent in my life and Starlings come and go with the season, adding that excitement to the magic of migration.  

Palaash Blossoms and Rosy Starlings - by Yuvan Aves

"From a distance, with some imagination on my part, the tree could well be a titan’s arm reaching up with his palm spread wide, his crooked fingers dripping with magma, having broken through the crust."  Butea monosperma (Palaash) Photo by Yuvan

If not every day, then during every transiting month, the human being who pleasures in taking long walks and communing with the landscape, has something or the other to anticipate excitedly.
March is almost upon us and the Palaash trees everywhere are full of buds, making their branches sag. Very soon, when one looks up one morning, they would have suddenly bloomed altogether, overnight. And the tree would then bear not a sole leaf. Not a tinge of dark green would be seen on its crown, for it would have replaced every single one of them with its tongue like kesari-orange flowers curling towards the sky. From a distance, with some imagination on my part, the tree could well be a titan’s arm reaching up with his palm spread wide, his crooked fingers dripping with magma, having broken through the crust. The roads and walkways below are carpeted. The canopies of the smaller trees around are topped. Its flowers bob all along the shores of a pond or lake, if one is nearby. A tall flowering Palaash is a salient landmark wherever it is.

For a few years I was blessed with the opportunity of walking every morning by a very old Palaash tree, down the road from the campus I taught in. It stood on the bund slope of a village lake. Much of the wood in its ancient rugged trunk had been carved out by insects and the weather, and for much of its height, only a thin rim held up its branches and foliage. How was it managing to convey life to its broad-spread crown? In its shade and across the road were dozens of Palaash saplings of various heights. Some were even young trees at a blooming age, and all were its children. For a portion of the road I had gotten used to the familiar rustle of the flat, wide, brittle leaves of these Palaashes. It wasn’t like the thick gurgling of a Neem tree nor was it like the torrential sound of a Banyan. The sound of the Palaash was like a crowd of paper hands applauding.

Reading Peter Wohlleben and about the Wood wide web, I now think I understand the life of this mother Palaash better. I can imagine its wide roots beneath the road entwined with those of all its children. Maybe many years ago it nourished them, sending down all the surplus nutrition it made in its leaves. Now as it ages and its trunk withers from inside, surely it is in its offspring’s care, which are holding to it and supplying what it needs to keep alive.

Intelligence can extend across larger forms, beyond close fitting skulls, beyond bodies and entities. The Earth, Gaia, has its own inherent intelligence as Lovelock testifies, just as did many ancient cultures much before. And this is not the sum of all its beings and matter. It is a sentient creature by itself. A star cluster may have its own larger intelligence. And a flock of birds have a complex intelligence, unconfined by feathers, flesh and space. How then does one explain starlings and the shapes of their murmurations? Hundreds of birds spiraling and snaking in the sky, a cloud of black masses clustering, stretching, folding and evolving in abstract ways. I have seen a whale, a hook, a boomerang and some other vague resemblances which my mind strives to identify with something of its own world. How then does one explain a whole flock, dispersed across an overgrown pasture, spontaneously taking off together? How also does one explain the settling of the entire flock, all together in the afternoon on a flowering Palaash, or at dusk, on the same leafless tree, as if all were of one mind?  I like the way Robert Macfarlane words this in a poem in The Lost Words - “Ghostly swirling surging whirling melting murmuration of starling flock.”

I speak of Rosy Starlings, the second most common starling I am accustomed to seeing but I might as well be speaking about European starlings or the White-Winged Black-Terns I see sometimes behaving similarly above the wetlands they come to.

Pastor roseus, Rosy Starling on the Palaash - Photo by Yuvan

Rosy Starlings are late migrants into the southern reaches of the country and it is only by mid or late December that I first see little troops of them trickling in. Having not seen them for more than half the year, I always end up wondering what on Earth those birds were which shot over me, when the first arrive. Here during this time in Kanchipuram and much of rural Tamil Nadu, some of the farmers would have ploughed their fields and sowed the Navarai crop (the paddy to be harvested in Summer). But much of the land in dry and semi dry areas is fallow, overgrown with Ban Tulsi, Tephrosia, countless grasses and little shrubs. These untilled fields are where you will find the starlings for most of the day. The flocks will descend steeply from above, swerve parallelly to the ground and in a flicker, would have abruptly vanished into the low vegetation. A second ago there would have been a crowd of nosediving shapes striving to retard their momenta, seemingly a moment too late, and in the moment after, they would have all submerged into the shrubbery as if it were water, with no thuds or squeals. The plants don’t twitch with their activity. I imagine them moving on mute feet, carefully stalking insects hiding by the stems and in the soil cracks. Here and there a starling would jump above the vegetation and land back in. And then one can tell that they are running behind and trying to catch the insects they have flushed. When they decide to, they would all take off in a single explosion.

Rachel Carson calls it the ‘Other Road’, like a lamp of hope at the very end of deeply disquieting and illumining ‘Silent Spring’. In essence, she speaks in this chapter about using wisdom from nature for our means to grow, to feed and to live as opposed to butting heads with the ingenuity of something as old as time, whether it be flooding our food crops with poisons or be it among the countless other practices our contemporary ways of life demand, which has made every stratum of the biosphere less fit for life. 

And while writing of Rosy Starlings one also definitely needs to narate the story of the Xinjiang. This is an agricultural district in China where these Starlings naturally bred every Summer. The croplands here were perpetually under the scourge of Locusts and Grasshoppers, and these phytophagous insects seemed to quickly develop a facile resistance to the expensive quantities of insecticides used on them. It took one sharp observation by a local to discover that Rosy Starlings primarily fed on these very insects as they foraged the fields. The farmers setup artificial nests around their farms to invite the birds to breed nearby and it is reported that in a few years the locust populations fell so low that insecticide use was practically stopped. This success story could underline the importance today of working with nature, aligning one’s efforts along its own principles versus, attempting to subdue it. 

These Starlings also visit the flowers of the Silk Cotton and the Coral tree. Maybe sometimes forage the Babuls and Subabuls (certainly not for nectar). But from what I have seen, the nectar of Palaash blossoms are their single most favourite. The tree is visited also by many other nectar feeders. I would sometimes see Flowerpeckers on it which would have travelled from the nearby hills. One wouldn’t see these tiny tots anywhere near here during the rest of the year. The collective sounds of the starlings emanating from the crown would be like a noisy gurgling stream collapsing on the rocks, drowning out the cackling of the Treepies, the Sunbirds, Barbets, the bawling of the Common Mynahs and also the Bullock carts and Motorcycles passing below. Conversations would briefly pause when we went by this Palaash tree during morning walks. The birds are like a dining hall full of children at lunch break.  

By April the red flowers would have started turning into flat pods and the Rosy starling flocks would have also turned homewards. Yet an old tree, still flowering each year, with its rugged weather worn trunk holds this fragile kinship, a bond between a population of migrating birds and a remote village in the Southern reaches of the country.

Trees have personalities. Some trees behave differently when alone and when in a group of their own company. Mango growers have told me this. Mango trees planted alone succumb more quickly to beetle and fungal attacks than one growing in an orchard. A Banyan on the other hand likes to be a loner and is likely to not let another grow too closeby. Their aerial roots can attach to other trunks, parasitize them and finish them off over time. Quite often an infant Banyan reaches adolescence by choking a Palmyra tree, a very common choice of host given that its trunk is full of crevices, and over many years swallowing it into its trunk and replacing it.  A Palaash is a sought after tree for its flowers. Schools and institutions take home a single sapling to plant in their courtyard. I have come across so many such lone standing trees within paved perimeters which look sickly and which refuse to flower. Or at the most flower reluctantly once in many years. But do witness for yourself in the places where generations of these trees are allowed to grow together as close neighbors. The mature trees blossom punctually year after year.

At a facile level, yes, it is necessary to protect an old tree such as this Palaash, which probably has been by this lake as long as the village has been. It would have seen generations and generations of starlings and other birds feeding from its flowers, chicks growing into adults and flying back with their offspring. Billions of bees, other insects and their larvae would have drawn sustenance from it over the decades. Its flowers would have decorated and sanctified altars and the temples nearby. Its presence would have lent itself, in some subtle or small way, to all those who travelled beneath it. But at a deeper level, an ancient tree offers something else to everything around which is more difficult to put in words. I have found myself at times segue into a conversation or speaking aloud to the Palaash while sitting beneath it alone. A tree can be a patient and non-judging listener, a counsellor even. I have felt healed and discernably more at peace with myself. Sometimes I have stood by it for a long time touching my palm to its craggy trunk and just imbibing the feeling of it. One could say that trees have an energy field around them, as Eckhart Tolle may wish to put it. A field where living organisms thrive but also where one palpably feels thought or any kind of human conflict to be diminished. A pervasive and penetrating space of intrinsic harmony. And if one comes to rest beneath its trunk with stillness one is certainly touched by this dimension. After a while one may walk away with a burst of clarity.

The slowly vanishing wetland of Chennai still teams with life

Pallikaranai wetland and Perumbakkam lake:  In front of our eyes, it is slowly dying, choking with garbage, and being filled in for development, as we watch helplessly.

And how much of bird life is still there!  Through the winter of 2018-19, my friend Sagarika, visited the wetlands and recoded the comings and goings of winter visitors, the nesting of some of the water birds, the courtship and the territoriality.

Flamingoes crowd around in the little patch of water, buildings all around.

A mixed menagerie, all cheek by jowl - pelicans, egrets, herons, ducks

And all the time, there is this relentless filling in off the marsh.  

The Pied Avocets sharing space with Black-Winged Stilts and the ducks

A Yellow bittern (Ixobrychus sinensis) skulked in the undergrowth, its head feathers all astray.  She spotted several through the course of her regular weekend visits.

Another Yellow Bittern, in breeding plumage.

The black bittern (Ixobrychus flavicollis) also loves wetlands, nests in the reed beds.  Sagarika found this one,
stock still as it waited for fish.

Above the water, in the shrubbery, the winter visitor Blue-tailed bee eater brought a
flash of brilliant colour as it fed on the insects that are a plenty over the waters.

And on the lines above, barn swallows rested in droves

 

This season, the flamingoes have been seen in large numbers.  Pallikaranai, opposite the garbage dump, and in the Perumbakkam side, they have been seen everywhere.  Juveniles and adults.

 

Garganeys visiting for the winter,

... as also Godwits

Ibises aplenty,

Pheasant-tailed Jacanas in breeding plumage and nesting as well.

A Jacobin's cuckoo among the thorny scrub

She spied a Jerdon's bush lark (Mirafra affinis) or Jerdon's lark, something I have not seen, ever.  

While a bush chat seemed to spy her..

And a raptor surveyed its hunting grounds.."it was huge in size.  Huge as in so huge we could see it with naked eye!"  Bigger than a Harrier, so probably an Eagle.

A ringed Plover seemed to pose for her.

Is that a Ruff rummaging in the weeds?

A Northern Shoveler couple swim and feed

The weekend birders 'club' knew the Snipe spots!  Painted?  

They spotted some 15 one day! Common Snipes

And Wagtails together!  Citrine and Yellow.

The Clamorous Reed Warbler clamoured and sang delightfully,

Whistling teals whistled as they flew in formation across the marsh

And many a Swamp Hen preened, fed and called, across the wetlands.

Birders go every weekend, in-beween the apartment complexes.  Every empty plot is still a wetland, and along with the plastic and other human-generated garbage, there is still urban wildlife.

How long until it all vanishes?

Brown on brown

Junonia lemonias, the lemon pansy

Crunching dry leaves of summer,
eyes staring at me,
a basking pansy did I come across.

Pride of India, indeed

It is April, and once again that beautiful Lagerstroemia tree on Turnbulls Road is in bloom.  

I photographed it in 2012, and am so glad it has not been axed, and still stands tall and proud, and purple in April.

Lagerstroemia speciosa  -  Pride of India, Queen Crepe Myrtle

The papery flowers

GNP and scrub forests

A lovely little piece, about the jewel of a National Park in our midst.  I love the details about the scrub forests and their importance.

Enter the jungle: Where in this busy city would you find 150 species of birds? – Citizen Matters, Chennai

April 12, 2019 Seetha Gopalakrishnan

With a mix of cackles, screeches and chuckles, the spotted owlet with its harsh call is seen and heard often at the Guindy National Park

Historically, South Chennai has been a massive floodplain, comprised predominantly of the Pallikaranai marsh and its satellite wetlands with intermittent patches of scrub forests. Remnants of these forests are seen in protected campuses of the Theosophical society, the Indian Institute of Technology, Guindy National Park and the Nanmangalam Reserve Forest to the south of the city. Spread over 2.7 square kilometre, the Guindy National Park (GNP), a slice of coastal thorny scrub is a haven of quiet, amidst the bustling metropolis that envelopes it on all sides.

Chennai’s forests

The Chennai Forest Circle, which comprises the districts of Chennai, Chengalpattu and Tiruvallur is blessed with three out of the nine major forest types of the State–tropical dry deciduous, tropical dry thorn scrub and tropical dry evergreen.

Before this forest patch in Guindy was declared as a National Park in 1978, it was part of the elaborate Guindy Lodge, the official country residence of the erstwhile Governor of Madras and now the official residence of the Governor of the state of Tamil Nadu, the Raj Bhavan. GNP was originally a mix of tropical scrub and Palmyra dominated thorn woodlands. Over the years it was enriched with native and exotic trees to create the present vegetation structure that resembles a natural forest.

The region’s isolated scrub forests are characterised by the presence of relatively short trees interspersed with grasslands. Scrubs and thickets are most often surrounded by larger trees making the area appear densely vegetated. An abundance of fruit bearing trees and shrubs makes GNP a thriving bird habitat as well.



The Blackbuck (Antilope cervicapra) and the Chital or Spotted Deer (Axis axis) are the predominant faunal elements at the GNP with the latter being introduced into the Park while the Raj Bhavan was being developed; they have now been found to feed and breed in the contiguous IIT-Madras campus as well.

Over the years, close to a hundred and fifty species of birds have been sighted at the GNP which include different species of bee-eaters, bulbuls and sunbirds.

The GNP is not just a critical green lung, but also an excellent space to showcase urban forest conservation. The Park has consistently interested scientists and naturalists for existing as an island of tranquility in the midst of urban congestion and concrete chaos. The Forest Department had developed walking trails within the Park, most of which were destroyed by Cyclone Vardah. One such trail remains, now mostly used by school children to take a tour around the Park.

Since only school students in small batches are currently allowed to enter the GNP, here is a virtual tour for you through our photos:

The eighth smallest National Park in the country, the Guindy National Park is a mosaic of woodland, shrubs and grasslands. Over 350 species of plants and 150 species of birds have been recorded here over the years. Twelve species of mammals including the near-threatened Blackbuck and the Golden Jackal call the National Park their home

The Blackbuck is currently the sole representative of the genus Antilope and together with the Chital is the umbrella species of the Guindy National Park. The Golden Jackal is currently the Park’s primary predator

The GNP landscape is typified by tropical scrub vegetation. Acacia planifrons know as the kodai velan in Tamil (kodai meaning umbrella, indicative of its umbrella-shaped canopy) traditionally used as firewood is found in abundance

The sweet-scent of the Ixora brachiata blossoms (Sulundhu in Tamil; Torchwood tree in English) fill the air with the tree in full bloom between the months of March and April in deciduous slopes across the subcontinent



Palmyrah, Borassus flabellifer, the state tree of Tamil Nadu is also the nominate species of the coastal areas. The Palmyrah-dominated scrubland habitat is extremely crucial for the survival of the Blackbuck and other native species of plants and animals

About seven species of indigenous Ficus (collectively known as fig trees to which the Banyan belongs) are found in the campus. These trees serve as the keystone species in the ecosystem on which many other species, mostly avifauna greatly depend on

The white breasted kingfisher is commonly seen in the Park, feeding mostly on insects, frogs and sometimes on fish. The bird is brilliantly coloured with a bright blue back, brown lower belly and stunning red beaks.

A variety of spiders are found in the Park of which the signature spider is of particular interest. These spiders build decorated webs with strokes which look like signatures, and hence the name

Brilliant red velvet spiders are also commonly seen at the GNP during the rainy season. Apart from the macro-fauna, there is a wide variety of invertebrates–termites, worms, crabs, bugs and butterflies. These creatures help in preserving the ecosystem in their own small ways from tilling the soil to pollination and decomposition

With an amazing plant wealth, the Guindy National Park acts as an excellent green lung and an admirable refugium for local biodiversity

Prior permission needs to be obtained from the Wildlife Warden, Chennai to enter the National Park. Currently, only school students in small batches are being allowed to enter the GNP

References: Developing a water management strategy and action plan in the Guindy National Park; TNFD, 2014;

All pictures clicked by Seetha Gopalakrishnan and Vinoth Balasubramanian for Care Earth Trust.

Weep for Pallikaranai

How could a government be so callous and shortsighted and put a garbage dump in a wetland?  And what was I doing as a citizen?  Ignorant and asleep.



I hope these numbers are wrong.



Ecological scare: Pallikaranai marsh emitting 8.4 gigatonnes of methane every year- The New Indian Express





On the World Wetland Day on Saturday, the State government, forest officials and the environmental experts, have emphasised the need to restore Pallikaranai wetland.



CHENNAI: It’s shocking. Pallikaranai wetland, which is supposed to act as a carbon sink, is emitting a whopping 8.4 gigatonnes of methane every year, reveals a study conducted by Anna University researchers.



Among several factors, the main source of methane is the five-decade-old dump yard and this establishes the fact as to why it catches fire often. The research study was carried out by A Ramachandran, former director, Centre for Climate Change and Adaptation Research, Anna University.



On the World Wetland Day on Saturday, the State government, forest officials and the environmental experts, have emphasised the need to restore Pallikaranai wetland.



“Currently, the wetland is acting as a carbon source rather than carbon sink. Our research shows carbon dioxide emission is 18.4 gigatonnes per year, and the carbon sinking rate is a negligible 0.0020 gigatonnes per year,” Ramachandran told Express on the sidelines of an event organised by the forest department, Department of Environment and Tamil Nadu Pollution Control Board (TNPCB).



Ramachandran said, more than carbon dioxide, the emission of 8.4 gigatonnes of methane annually is problematic. Every molecule of methane that gets released into the atmosphere stays there for a minimum of 12 years. Methane is a potent greenhouse gas and is a cause for major concern globally.



The study shows that a high concentration of methane is observed during summer and the emissions are lowest during north-east monsoon. Ramachandran said during summer months, when water temperature is 32 degrees Celsius, microbial decomposition intensifies.



“Low water levels, higher temperature and high concentration of organic matter allow the sediment to be more anoxic and intensify methane production. During monsoon, the height of water restricts the transfer of methane from subsurface to the atmosphere, resulting in decrease in methane rates,” the study says.



Researchers installed flex towers at select locations of Pallikaranai wetland and calculated hourly emissions of carbon dioxide and methane for close to one year. Realising the need for conservation of Pallikaranai, the State government has announced eco-restoration of 695 hectares of Pallikaranai, undertaken under the National Adaptation Fund for Climate Change.



The State has also made a budgetary allocation of `25 crore as seed money. Also, Pallikaranai is among the 11 wetlands in Tamil Nadu chosen under the five-year National Action Plan for Conservation of Migratory Birds and their Habitats along Central Asia Flyway (2018-2023).



Also, the Forest department is pushing to declare Pallikaranai as ‘Ramsar Site’. Sources in the department told Express that a proposal has already been submitted and is under the active consideration of the Central government. The Ramsar Convention is an intergovernmental treaty that embodies the commitments of its member countries to maintain the ecological character of their wetlands of international importance and to plan for the wise use or sustainable use of all the wetlands in their territories.



Pallikaranai wetland is a very unique ecosystem and consists of various habitat types like open water, islands, shallow waters and mudflats, each serving a specific purpose. For instance, open water pockets attract diving waterbirds, while islands and mounds are used as breeding sites for a number of species that nest on the ground.



Shallow waters and mud flats are rich feeding areas for a range of migratory waders who probe the water and flats for tiny animals. Larger waterbirds with long legs and bills such as the egret, pelican, heron, flamingo etc., can be found in the shallows probing, spearing, sieving and scooping for food.

6,000 ha to 690 ha.



The marsh covered an area of 6,000 hectares in the 1900s, of which there has been a 90 per cent loss of habitat resulting in the presence of only 690 hectares of marsh currently.



The Care Earth Trust document blames the fragmentation of habitat on construction of institutes like National Institute of Ocean Technology (NIOT), Centre for Wind Energy Technology and the Perungudi dumpyard and Sewage treatment plant, which occupy a major part of marsh land.



Development of IT corridors and residential complexes too took a huge toll. Pallikaranai is one of the 94 wetlands identified under National Wetland Conservation and Management Programme (NWCMP) of the Government of India and is also one of the three in the state of Tamil Nadu, the other two being Point Calimere and Kazhuveli.



Biodiversity hotspot



Pallikaranai marsh supports 349 species of flora and fauna including 133 species of birds, 10 species of mammals, 21 species of reptiles, 10 species of amphibians, 50 species of fishes, 9 species of molluscs, 5 species of crustaceans, and 7 species of butterflies and about 114 species of plants including 29 species of grass.



The number of bird species sighted in the wetland is significantly higher than the number at Vedanthangal birds sanctuary.

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