I like Bustards. This interesting-looking family mainly inhabit vast, sparse plains and deserts and includes some of the world’s largest and heaviest flying birds. The males typically have incredible displays in which they unfurl unseen feather tracts, almost turning themselves inside out in their efforts to impress females. I associate the Great and Little Bustards of Europe — especially the former — with my first forays in to foreign birding. In May 1999 I did my first dedicated foreign birding trip; Steve Young and I joined forces for a seminal trip to Extremadura where we saw both European bustards (as well as all the other specialties of the region), the first of many amazing and memorable trips we have done together filled with great birds and excellent craic. But there are other more juvenile reasons I like them. In case you hadn’t noticed, #spoileralert, the name amusingly sounds a bit like… bastard (titter). But, maybe the ultimate juvenile reason is that the Great Bustard of Europe makes the greatest sound in the animal kingdom, not unlike a loud, wet fart, a gush of damp air squeezed though a compliant orifice.
In fact, this unfeasible mating call featured in that first trip I did with Steve, who like me, was more than childishly amused at the ridiculous, almost unbelievable utterance. To quote from my 1999 report:
Closer to Madrid we swapped over the driving duties and the traffic began to get heavier. With the scenery dull and our next potential birds still an hour away I decided to have forty winks. On waking, a little light entertainment was in order, which I hoped would also have the effect of ensuring Steve was still alert at the wheel. I popped the tape of Great Bustard into the player and wound it to the appropriate place. Guessing my intentions immediately, Steve guaranteed that this time, he wouldn’t laugh. His vain promise was always doomed. The moment the first squittery fart spluttered out he was off, and by the time the flatulent beast had squeezed the last raspberry out Steve had tears streaming down his face, doubled over barely able to breathe, and was weaving across the road at 120kmh. Mission accomplished – he was certainly wide awake now – but I resolved in the interests of self preservation never to use this technique again.
Ok, so to the point. The preamble above is part of my justification for having just done a week’s birding in Rajasthan in north-west India trying to see the rarest of the Bustard family, Great Indian Bustard. There are fewer than 100 birds left, with the population probably in terminal decline because of habitat loss — a bird that needs large areas of wilderness or low intensity agriculture seems doomed when it has to compete with 1.4 billion people for that same space. I have wondered about a trip to NW India in the past, but the supporting cast never really did enough for me to justify a dedicated trip from UK or Australia. However now that I am living in Abu Dhabi, NW India, only 3.5 hours flying time away, is just about the closest birding destination that could a yield a bucket-list target and a bag of lifers, thus changing the price+time vs reward trade-off.
The timing of the trip was “enforced”. My current hotel accommodation is in a complex right next to the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix circuit. During Grand Prix week, room prices skyrocket about 20-fold!! So vacating Abu Dhabi altogether seemed as good a plan as any, and a great excuse to take a few days leave and do some birding.
My initial plan was for a shortish trip, a 3-night stay in Desert National Park, which is the last remaining stronghold of GIB on the planet, and one further day/night to connect with another personal bucket-list bird, Demoiselle Crane, which gathers in winter in large numbers at the village of Kichan, a few hours north of DNP. But I could not make this minimalist itinerary work with the flight options available; while Ahmedabad is a very convenient 3-hour flight direct from Abu Dhabi, there was no sensible onward connection to Jaisalmer, the best involving a 10-hour wait in Ahmedabad airport and killing my “smash-and-grab” minimalist plan. When I contacted local guide Dalveer Singh, he suggested instead driving from Ahmedabad to the desert. This turned the 10-hour wait at the airport into an even longer 14-hour drive, and added a night to the itinerary, but crucially we would do some birding along the way. In particular Mt Abu, a quarter of the way from Ahmedabad to Jaisalmer, holds a number of Indian specialties. These were not species on my bucket-list or even particularly on my radar beforehand, but reading trip reports alerted me that this site is included in the itinerary of most tour groups, and the FOMO factor consequently tipped the balance in favour of this new plan.
At the back end of the trip I had a different dilemma. I had a long-standing commitment to give a talk at Amazon in Bangalore on 1st Dec, so it did not make a lot of sense flying back to Abu Dhabi for a day and then back to India when I could use the time birding and fly from Jaipur less than 2 hours to Bengaluru. So I tacked another night and one more key site, Tal Chhapar, onto the itinerary, turning the whole trip into a week-long affair and covering about half of the ground that most two-week bird-tour-company trips cover.
Day 1
It was difficult to rouse myself to get to AD airport (a mere 10 min taxi away from my digs) for my 1.40am flight with Air Arabia, but the flight itself left and arrived on time and was overall a good experience. Dalveer and his driver were waiting as I left the customs hall so by 6.30 we were on our way north on the bustling roads of Ahmedabad. Immediately my senses were assaulted by constant noise of honking horns, Indian music, spicy and sweet and acrid smells, bright colours, smiling, and even dancing people. Lanes and lights “advisory”, bikes and scooters and even cars hooning along in the wrong direction. Need to pass but there’s oncoming traffic? Honk your horn and go for it, every overtaking manoeuvre a game of chicken with the oncoming car or truck. Cows, camels, dogs, goats all wandering about with apparent complete right of way. Are there any rules at roundabouts? None that I could work out. Chaos, yet seemingly people mostly getting where they need to get to.
Amid the chaos I noted signs to the Narendra Modi Stadium where only 4 days earlier in this very city Australia had spoiled the Indian party by winning the World Cup, despite India reaching the final with a 10-0 record. Once clear of the city we headed north to Mt Abu, a largely uneventful journey. Travellers’ hotels with modest names lined the route: “Hotel Comfy”, and “Hotel Decent Rooms” stood out as places I would be sure to check out if I needed somewhere to stay between Ahmedabad and Mt Abu.
Bird-wise, we saw lots of “trash” in roadside vegetation and on wires, but not much of note until at one point — as I was nodding off in the back seat — Dalveer instructed the driver to pull over. He’d seen something interesting in a field. It was indeed very interesting — Yellow-wattled Lapwing, a smart almost courser-like lapwing — a lifer for me and the only time we saw this taxon on the trip. This was the first sign that Dalveer was not just great with the logistics but also very sharp-eyed, constantly on the lookout for stuff, knowing what’s good and what’s on my target list. Just what you need in a guide!
We arrived at Mt Abu late morning with throngs of people and music in the streets. Dalveer explained it was day one of the wedding season. We drove past at least two groups, and one such wedding party (literally) was strung out along our route, guests walking and joyfully dancing behind a truck pumping out loud western-influenced Indian beats, followed by a groom looking almost embarrassed astride his steed, wearing traditional garb and uncomfortably holding a menacing scimitar.
Higher up the mountain we commenced birding. We heard but could not see a Green Avadavat, the #1 target for us and most bird groups who visit here. But a Red-breasted Flycatcher was lovely to see (my first since Poland in 2011) and lifers included sweet Indian Yellow Tit, and Tawny-bellied Babbler.
After checking in to my hotel, lunch and a welcome break after my largely sleepless travel night, by mid-afternoon we were back in the car heading further up the hill to a few sites of degraded forest and scrub-land where Dalveer has regularly seen several of the key targets. Indeed at our first roadside stop he almost immediately pointed out the high-pitched call of Green Avadavat and not long after walking a rough track for barely 50m, we had bagged the key Mt Abu target when a small flock posed nicely but distantly. I rued the lack of reach of the 500mm on my full-frame 20Mpix R6, but reviewing the distant pics later that evening over a tasty curry I was still impressed by how much detail the lens plus lowish megapixel (but super high-quality) sensor can resolve. A walk through the scrub here was otherwise mostly unproductive, but did yield my first truly wild individuals of the impressive but familiar and ubiquitous Indian Peafowl.
At the village of Oriya we walked down the rustic streets then out into fields for some relaxed, evening birding. Indian Robins were everywhere, and Brown Rock Chat was new. Also new were White-capped Bunting and Yellow-throated Sparrow, whose other name is Yellow-throated Petronia, which could be rather confusing given that taxonomists have now moved it out of the petronia family. Go figure! Jungle Babbler and Brahminy Starling were both fairly common and new for me, the latter super-smart in the evening light.
We finished our birding in what became a sort-of tradition, with a freshly brewed cup of masala chai — sweet, milky tea made with ginger and cardamom — from a roadside stall. It had been a fairly gentle introduction to Indian birding, not filled with bags of lifers. But we had already scored the key target for the area, Green Avadavat, so tomorrow morning’s birding would be pretty relaxed also, and I was grateful for an early night after only a few hours of restless shut-eye during my travel the night before.
Day 2
Early morning saw us revisit Dalveer’s spots, hoping for a few of the other specialties of Mt Abu that had been unresponsive in the late afternoon. As soon as we pulled up at our “Green Avadavat spot” there were Red Spurfowl calling from close to the road, on both sides, but we failed to get a visual. Dalveer had wandered down the road as I kept my eye on the spot I expected a bird to emerge but pretty soon he was calling me 100m down the road where an Indian Scimitar Babbler was singing. I scanned the bushes carefully and soon was able to locate the singing bird, a stonker of a babbler, with its huge, yellow, down-curved bill, like the groom’s sword from yesterday. For me and any others, probably number 2 key Mt Abu target. Two birds circled us for a while giving great views in bins but never posing well or long enough for photos.
We then went off along small goat tracks hoping to find and/or flush a Spurfowl as we wound our way through the scrub-covered slopes. I guess this is the usual technique and is often successful, otherwise I was not sure why we’d not concentrated more on these while they were still calling; they stopped calling almost straight after dawn, while we were still with the Scimitar Babblers. A Grey Wagtail flitted about on the small dam, and a flock of six Small Minivet flew over. I did not get enough on these for a tick, but having seen some later in the trip, these retrospectively make it onto my ebird list for the day — I’ll not add a life-bird if I have not had unequivocal identifiable views myself but I’m happy for them to live on my ebird list :-).
Just up the road, Dalveer called for a quick stop by the driver. A Crested Bunting was posing beautifully in the morning light, and in a short walk at this impromptu stop we also noted Yellow-eyed Babbler, Hume’s Warbler (which had been one of the commonest birds we’d heard, but this was the first I clocked for my Indian list) and Sulphur-bellied Warbler, the latter of which posed very nicely for us.
With a long drive ahead to get to Desert National Park by nightfall we did not have unlimited time this morning, so drew a line under the birding by 9am. A quick stop for tea and breakfast at last night’s masala chai stop was very welcome, then we set out on the long, slow drive to Jaisalmer. I was vaguely disappointed to have missed the Spurfowl, but reasoned that Mt Abu was just a bonus stop anyway and I’d scored with 2/3 of the key targets. But then as we descended the hill two partridge-like birds flushed across the road and landed on a concrete wall only a few metres away, Red Spurfowl!!. Dalveer and I exclaimed at once and I had excellent, unequivocal views. As I grappled with the tinted window and camera they sunk off below the wall and I was unable to get any images, but still, I was now 3/3 and finishing off my time in on Mt Abu with zero regrets!
The journey from Mt Abu to Jaisalmer is over 400km and on slow Indian roads takes 9 hours. Eek! A stop at a reservoir as we left the Mt Abu region was our only birding of note, and we picked up a (new for me) River Tern, as well as Bluethroat, distant Common Kingfisher and Eurasian Spoonbill.
We finally arrived into the “Golden City” late afternoon, and I grabbed some video footage of the stunning fort as we passed through; this is usually the most deference I can pay to touristy stuff on a dedicated birding trip. Our ultimate destination was not, in fact Jaisalmer, but the village of Sam still 40km west, and gateway to Desert National Park. It was dark by the time we were approaching Sam, passing many, many desert camps of the sort I’d imagined we would be staying in; but I had not imagined it would be so full or have such a theme-park feel. This area is a playground for local Indian tourists and foreigners alike coming here for their “experience of the desert”, but 99% barely leave their camp other than to walk a few metres across to the road to a jeep or camel ride through the dunes, and never making it into the national park itself (thank goodness!). So much for a wilderness experience!
I hoped that we would not be lumped in with these and was grateful when the driver turned off down a quieter road (though still sign-posted to a dozen or more camps from what I could see). Then after 3-4km doubled back. Oh dear, were we lost? Now onto a dirt track that felt barely passable in our small 2WD, I hoped that Dalveer knew where we were going, our unforced error in navigation a few minutes earlier denting my confidence. After 9 hours in the car I didn’t want to spend another hour driving around the desert in the dark or worse, get bogged and stranded out here in the middle of nowhere.
Of course my fears were misplaced and after another 2km we pulled up outside an exquisite camp a long way from the bustle of the “theme park”. This was so much quieter and tasteful than the endless gaudy camps lining the main road I was so grateful to Dalveer for his choice of location. My personal tent, in a quiet spot at the back of the camp was just what the doctor ordered, simple but comfortable. After a shower (the tent has its own proper bathroom) and change of clothes I joined Dalveer for a pre-dinner drink as we watched the entertainment, local folk-singers and dancers keeping us entertained until we decamped to the dining tent where an excellent spicy buffet awaited.
Day 3
With the trip structured around one bird, the next two days were therefore the most important of the week. Dalveer had engaged local driver and guide Karan Singh to take us into the park. Karan knows the layout and ecology of the park as well as anyone, as well as knowing and being friendly with many locals and park rangers. He and another random dude assumed control of our safari vehicle and Dalveer and I stood or sat in the open tray of the jeep with a great view of the terrain. Karan did an excellent job of getting us to the right places a the right time, and helping us find birds.
DNP itself covers an area of more than 3000 sqkm of dunes and sparsely vegetated plains. In the centre of the park is a much smaller fenced-off exclusion zone area, less than 50sqkm, designed to exclude livestock and people alike to provide an undisturbed refuge area for the wildlife, especially the bustards. Although the bustards are not bound by this fence, and with luck can be found anywhere in the park, for obvious reasons, the majority if the remnant population hangs about in the protected area. The technique to maximise chances of seeing one is to drive the perimeter and scan inside. The fenced area is officially closed to both the people and livestock, but I noticed several groups of cows and sometimes goats, inside the area. It’s clear that many locals, envious of the relatively rich ungrazed vegetation inside the fence compared with their overgrazed fields, simply ignore the rules, encroaching at spots where the fenceline has weaknesses or is incomplete. It seems most likely that the rangers have decided that keeping sweet with the locals by turning a blind eye to limited activity is more sustainable than falling out with them and risking a free-for-all. I hope they have got it right, but realistically they may just be slowing the inevitable. I fear that there is no solution that will allow 1.4 billion people and 300 million cows to live side-by-side with even 100 Great Indian Bustards and the GIB is probably doomed :-(.
My team knew that there was a clear priority for the morning. Of course it would not be birding in the developing world without a plethora of WTF moments and this morning was no exception. En route to the park we pulled into a servo to top up the jeep’s fuel (why not last night, I wondered). A honk of the horn was not enough to rouse the bowser guy, but when Karan went over and pulled the rug back from the sleeping attendant he stirred briefly, muttered something to Karan, then pulled the rug back up over his head and rolled over. No fuel apparently; oh shit! :-(. Karan deposited us at the entrance to the park then drove off. Dalveer reassured me that he’d gone to refill elsewhere. You’d think by now I’ve had enough experience of this kind of thing to accept it, but I still scratch my head that the best laid plans, and all that… Of course the truth is usually these things are under control and I am a combination of impatient and too easily stirred up; perhaps I was forever scarred by my first big foreign trip to PNG where it seemed every few hours there was another WTF moment. In the present, in India, it turned out I was needlessly agitated. Less than 10 minutes later Karan arrived with a full tank and we rolled into Desert National Park for the first time, without really having lost any birding time. Calm down, Reido, I muttered to myself. Go with the flow. It’s all under control.
Because of our agreed focus on GIB, as we drove to various places, some on a hunch, some on tip-offs to Karan, I missed a few gettable target birds that I would have to claw back later (for instance Bimaculated Lark, when a flock passed overhead). But we also had some nice encounters, especially when an obliging Steppe Eagle posed in lovely light as we skirted the boundary of the restricted area. By this stage we’d also seen a few Long-legged Buzzards and Tawny Eagles, apparently the commonest (or at least most conspicuous) two raptors.
Nearing 10.30am as we drove north along the western boundary we stopped at another elevated spot to scan. Suddenly, Dalveer calmly announced he had found one!. Following his directions I too then saw the distant shape of a Great Indian Bustard emerge from behind a few trees, its long, pale neck the biggest giveaway. Brilliant! The viewing was distant and into the sun, pale grey washing over the already muted yellow and brown tones of the terrain and the bird; even through my crystal clear Swarovskis the image was degraded by poor hazy light. But the main goal of the trip was now accomplished! We moved forward in the car a short way for a slightly better angle and were now able to count not one, but eight birds in this flock. I fired off one or two record shots on the Canon, with the intention of digi-scoping at our next stop a little way closer. Unfortunately, as is often the case, we were not the only vehicle and we had been joined by another jeep with two interested but non-birder tourists. We were badly positioned behind their vehicle with no choice but to follow, and when their driver stupidly carried on too far, the inevitable happened and the whole flock flushed, travelling 100s of metres, maybe even a km or two, deeper into the restricted area and out of sight. Sigh.
We travelled back whence we’d come and did indeed come across more birds: a group of five was, I’m sure, different from the first group, based on where we found them. This group was also very distant, several hundred metres into the restricted area, so unapproachable. I was able to view through my scope for an extended period, but the light remained poor and the video I tried to get at 100x magnification was barely worth keeping. Nevertheless, 13 birds represents possible 20% of the entire DNP (maybe even world population) vindicating the decision to come here.
On our way out of the park we stopped with a group of other jeeps by a small dam where, to my surprise because if how close we’d parked, we had some more good wildlife encounters. A few vultures flew over, including a critically endangered Red-headed Vulture. Some Chestnut-bellied Sandgrouse also flew over, (and maybe would have come for a drink if there’d not been half a dozen jeeps parked within metres of the water) and a very scrawny-looking Desert Fox came to drink, perhaps so parched and ill that it could not afford to care about our presence.
Instead of driving back to the camp, Karan generously offered his family home as a more convenient lunch spot. His wife cooked us some delicious (though incredibly spicy) local Rajasthani dishes and I dozed for a while in the hottest hours of the day. I may miss seeing the sights of Jaisalmer and other places on birding trips, but I do often get to experience and connect with local culture in a way that few regular tourists manage.
GIB now in the bag we set off in the afternoon on a different itinerary. As we drove east from Sam towards a new area Dalveer’s sharp eyes came to the fore again. He’d spotted a Red-tailed Wheatear (also known as Persian Wheatear). This is bird I hope to pick up in UAE some time, but this was my life-bird, and once we’d jumped out of the jeep it was relatively early to relocate and also relatively confiding. It was otherwise a fairly unproductive afternoon.
At our first “scheduled” stop we jumped out of the vehicle into a the middle of a very barren, rocky area near huge pylons and high-tension wires (all bedecked with flags and flashing lights, presumably as a protection against bird strike). We tried in vain for a Greater Hoopoe Lark (seen in Morocco 11 years earlier, and I expect to see them in UAE some time as well, but Karan was keen to show me the best of his patch and Hoopoe-Larks are definitely A-listers). After dipping the larks we then embarked on a fairly long drive whose purpose I did not really understand — were we driving and scanning hoping to find things, or were we driving to particular known spots; perhaps a bit of both. At one random stop near some cliffs that looked to me to be prime Eagle-owl territory we found no owls (nor did anyone really look) but a small flock of Trumpeter Finch were my first since that Morocco trip in 2012. One bird that was clearly pre-planned came when Karan pulled the car over near a small bridge and pointed up to a tree above the dry creek-bed. Staring down at us was a gorgeous Spotted Owlet.
We drove back to base via the perimeter of the restricted area again. The one lifer I picked up was a Laggar Falcon; a powerful medium-sized falcon, this was one of my secondary targets. One cruised through and had a battle with at Tawny Eagle that was otherwise minding its own business on the top of a bush, but the action was all over before I could reach for the camera. A large flock of Bimaculated Larks was nice to find but in a distant inaccessible field.
Back at the camp in honour of our successful day I decided to indulge in a celebratory beer. Otherwise the evening’s routine was the same: shower, watch the local singers and dancers, spicy meal, then early night. There are no regular owls or nightjars out here worth looking for, so why change a winning formula?
Day 4
Now that we’d bagged the number one target, Dalveer suggested an alternative itinerary for today. Instead of repeating a similar route, we could visit another area where a pool was attractive to sandgrouse early morning, and could yield views of three species, Chestnut-bellied, Spotted and Black-bellied. This alternative was mutually exclusive with going back to the same areas because the sandgrouse pool was an hour away in the opposite direction, so I decided we should stay in the main part of DNP; my original plan and purpose of the trip was always for two full days in the park, and although I love sandgrouse, none of those three species was on my target list for NW India.
There had been some spots of rain overnight and it was cloudy as I emerged from my tent pre-dawn. As we drove into DNP the clouds got thicker and we observed lightning ahead! I felt somewhat vulnerable in the open tray of the ute, but counting the time between lightning and thunder reassured me that any strikes would be some way off. Before we had made it into the park proper it began to rain in earnest. I stashed camera and other electronics into the cab, and we pulled into a ranger station for a tea break, taking advantage of their corrugated iron shelter (which made the rain sound worse than it was) while hoping the worst would clear.
During a few breaks in the rain I walked the grounds outside the ranger station but did not see much, then chatted to an Indian tourist wielding a large lens. Not a birder, per se, but just interested in nature and wanted to see the park. But when the rain refused to stop he eventually decided to pull the pin, and left to go back to Sam. On the other hand, I decided that we should not let light rain deter us. I went over to the jeep and put some contact lenses in so I would not have to worry about wiping raindrops off my glasses, then back to the shelter. “Let’s go birding”, I said to Dalveer, “I don’t mind if I get a bit damp — I will dry — but I may never get another chance to bird in DNP”. Somewhat to my surprise he and Karan were keen, and I came to suspect that they’d simply been waiting on my word to go. It was a good job we did, because almost immediately the rain eased, and although the sun failed to come out all day, we had a cracking time and saw some good birds.
Our tactics for today were similar to yesterday except executed at a more relaxed pace. We drove the boundary of the restricted area slowly, now looking for everything, not just Bustards, and not so concerned about covering lots of lots of ground. Using this more relaxed pace we were able to pay attention to smaller passerines. Wheatears were conspicuous both days, but I’d photographed only my lifer Red-tailed (Persian) yesterday, so today I made sure to get some images of the much commoner Desert Wheatear and Variable Wheatear.
We were able to connect early with one of my main targets for the day when we came across a large mixed flock of larks that mostly comprised Bimaculated Lark but smaller numbers of Greater Short-toed Lark and Black-crowned Sparrow-lark. Initially there were several Bimacs right next to the track but quickly dispersed as we exited the vehicle and remained difficult to approach. But at last I could get decent binocular views and at least some record shots of this large, and distinctive lark. Had I been prepared to prostrate myself in the mud and wait I am sure I could’ve got some frame-fillers, but I did not have the time or inclination. On returning to the vehicle I found that Dalveer had found a superb Asian Desert Warbler which posed beautifully for us.
I quick recce at the tower and we were able to pick out 4 Bustards, presumed to be the same birds as yesterday. A Pallid Harrier cruised by nice and close. Karan then navigated us to a new barren area we’d not visited yesterday, and immediately pulled Cream-coloured Courser out of the bag! We counted eight in all. Not a lifer of course (pretty-much my last ever twitch in UK was for a bird that showed up on Herefordshire golf course, and then Steve and I had them in Morocco also), but Coursers and Pratincoles are my favourite waders because they are such beautiful elegant birds.
Karan’s family once again provided a freshly prepared tasty, spicy sampling of local fare for lunch. A few Cinereous Vultures flew over, an Indian Robin flitted about and I tried to get some photos of the local House Sparrows which have pale, not dark bills. Accordingly to Dalveer this is because the birds in DNP are “native” while the familiar dark-billed birds worldwide are feral.
Post lunch we again drove the fence line. A Long-legged Buzzard flew by, then a nice flock of Chestnut-bellied Sandgrouse for my best-ever views of this species.
Using our relaxed pace we picked out further new birds that we may well have overlooked with yesterday’s more myopic approach. New birds included Long-billed Pipit, another lifer for me. As we were pulling away from one of these after I’d unsuccessfully tried for a photo, we spied another passerine on top of a bush a few metres beyond the fence. Dalveer evidently clocked something different about it, but it flushed into some lignum the moment we stopped. Something about its jizz in flight also told me this was something different and Dalveer was sufficiently convinced that we staked out the lignum bush, from our side of the fence, unable to approach any closer. But this was a great, productive tactic, because a few minutes later we re-found the bird and it was the number one target for the day, Stoliczka’s (or White-browed) Bushchat. This range-restricted chat is another of the specialties of DNP, but Dalveer had earlier warned that they arrive in winter from further north, and this year local migration seemed to be delayed.
As soon as he laid bins on the bird Dalveer confirmed it was indeed a female Stoliczka’s and confided in me that it was the first record from DNP this season that he was aware of. Although not wildly interesting to look at, she showed us her excellent dancing ability, puffing her chest out and shaking her booty; apparently his taxon is the only bushchat to behave like this. The light was still diffuse and she has the same understated buff tones of almost all the avifauna out here. My pics through the fence are big crops and washed out, but she was still bird of the day for her charisma and rarity.
This afternoon we had our closest encounter with a GIB. One flushed from very close to the fence line. It saw us well before we had clocked it, but it afforded our closest views and the chance for some in-flight shots.
Soon after, and new for me, Dalveer’s sharp eyes and wits found a flock of 20 or so Yellow-eyed Pigeon, feeding alongside the much commoner Collared Doves. These birds, very similar to feral Rock Dove are very scarce; the only place in the world they seem to be seen in numbers is north of DNP near Bikaner (and for that reason Bikaner is on most birding tour routes), but they are regular in DNP also. Since Bikaner was not on the agreed itinerary, this was a great one to get. We saw another Desert Fox (this one much healthier looking than yesterday’s scrawny individual) and an elusive Desert Cat rushed across the track in front of us and into the cover of the dense dry, brown grass. We finished the afternoon back neat the tower for a final encounter with Great Indian Bustard, a fitting end to an excellent two days in the desert.
For the final evening at Prince Desert Camp I stuck to my routine: shower, beer, spicy dinner and early night. I turned in relaxed that the trip had now been an unequivocal success, but that I still had two more days of bonus birding to go.
stay tuned for the second innings…
