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Magazine
Eco-watch
A morning with raptors
S. THEODORE BASKARAN
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Sometimes birders get lucky enough to sight a rare bird more than once.
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Photo: Arul Baskaran
Rare sighting: The Brown fish owl.
A birdwatcher may sight some birds only once in a life time. Years ago, while motoring in the Khasi hills of Megalaya, as I straightened out after negotiating a hairpin bend, there they were — a pair of Peacock pheasants. The round markings in
their plumage glistened in the morning sun. They were there for a minute before scurrying into the undergrowth. Similarly, I have seen the Brown fish owl only once, in the Someswara wildlife sanctuary near Mangalore. Fortunately I was able to set my eyes again on this magnificent bird recently.
We were driving through the Bandipur National Park early one morning. Our driver, a youngster with an alert peripheral vision and a good sense of birds, slowed down the jeep and whispered “owl”, pointing to our right.
In no hurry
There, on a low branch of a tree, was this enormous, dumpy owl. When we trained our binoculars on it, the white bib and the yellow eyes suggested its identity. We had adequate time to watch and take photographs before it took off. As it left its perch, we could see its legs clearly. They were bare and yellow, confirming that it was indeed the Brown fish owl we had suspected it was. The other owl that is as large is the Great horned owl whose legs are covered with feathers. It is a denizen of dry country. The Fish owl’s legs, on the other hand, are designed without any feathers, so it can dip its feet into water to grab fish, in the manner of an Osprey. And unlike its cousin, the Fish owl can be active in the mornings and evenings also.
Owls unfortunately are traditionally stigmatised. This may be because they are nocturnal and also because the owl we town dwellers are most likely to come across, the Barn owl, has a blood curdling call. They often live right in the midst of human habitation. A few months ago, a Barn owl took residence in a house in Besant Nagar, Chennai, and we could watch it from the next house where my friend, a fellow birder, lives. He did not tell his neighbour about his new tenant, fearing he might decide to chase it away. A barn owl being mobbed by crows in the morning is not an unusual sight in cities. This phenomenon, the encounter between owl and crow, is referred to in Thirukural, the ancient Tamil work of couplets:
A crow will conquer owl in broad daylight; The king that foes would crush, needs fitting time to fight (p.481, G.U. Pope translation).
Vehicle of a Goddess
My wife collects owl figurines, of all media, ceramic, terracotta and wood; we have a large silk screen print of four owls which is framed and hung in our home. Visitors ask us if the owl is not bad omen. But the Owl is in fact the mount of Lakshmi. When she is featured alone, it is the much-maligned owl that is her vahana. When she is with Vishnu, then of course, she also rides along on Garuda, another raptor.
Before the drive ended that morning, we were able to see two more raptors. On a dried branch, against the grey blue sky, was a Crested hawk eagle. When it is keyed up, the few long feathers on its head stand up erect. As we watched this eagle, those feathers on the head were fluttering like a little flag. Coming out of the sanctuary and joining the main road, we spotted a Pallid Harrier in the middle of the road, picking up some remnant of a road kill. A lizard? We stopped the jeep, cut off the engine and had a close and clear look at this graceful migrant.
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