Chilika - Don't Go.

Chilika is a birder's mecca, we'd read. A million migratory birds -largest congregation in India. The largest brackish lake (950-1160 sq km, depending on if it's the monsoon season or summer) in India. A list to make your mouth (eyes?) water.In unspoilt Orissa. Had been wanting to go for years. This year, we found a 3-day slot in Jan and decided to just go. Did we see lots of birds? Yes. Is it beautiful? Yes. Should you go? No.
1. You can stay at OTDC acco in Barkul, Rambha or Satpada. We heard Barkul is 'better'. It's a con job. The 'resort' is dirty, tacky and charmless with rubbish strewn around its compound. Our 'a/c deluxe' room showed evidence of money spent and mismanaged. The tubelight in the bath didnt work, the floor was uneven leading to pools of stagnant water, the toilet seat was broken, and the room wasnt cleaned till we repeatedly asked for it. Groups come in to drink, play loud music and yell. Management (?) doesnt stop them.
2. Birds?? Barkul has none - or close to none. For the major congregations, you have to go to Nalabana sanctuary, which is closed , by boat- you will just skirt the edges, and see very few as they're all well within the boundaries. It's an hour out, 1/2 hour around and an hour back, all you'll see is gulls. The front desk has no knowledge of birds, and couldn't care less. For an OTDC at a Ramsar site, SHAME. COntrast this to Bharatpur, where the cycle rickshaw guides take a bird knowledge exam and carry 'the book of Indian birds'. Cannot comment on Rambha or Satpada.
We got there and were aghast. We'd flown from Bangalore for this? And we couldnt even relax and watch the view at the resort, or go for a walk along the lagoon (people squat there to shit).
Now the nice part. Wondering what to do, decided to call Chilika Development Authority, introducing ourselves as BNHS members. We were directed to the CDA center 2 km from Barkul, where Dr. Balachandran of BNHS had just landed to conduct the annual waterbird census. We met him, and he kindly agreed to have us join in. We left the next day early for Nalabana, and did we sing for our supper! Bird census is very different from bird watching. You don't have the luxury of watching a bird, looking at your bird book, identifying it, etc. you just have to count asap! Waded through at least 1 km of black slush,with Dr. Balachandran (he is The Ornithology God)counting, counting, counting. The water was about 2.5-3 feet deep. But there were tens of thousands of birds!! At one point, the sky seemed full of wheeling, calling birds. One beautiful spectacle was a flock of lesser flamingoes in flight. But the less said about the expertise and enthusiasm of many of the other census takers, the better. Well, so we got to spend time at Nalabana, and see many beautiful birds. (Red crested pochards, Lesser & Greater flamingoes, Bar-headed geese, thousands of Gadwalls, Wigeons, Shovellers and Pintails,Ruddy Shelducks, Avocets..about 35 species). But if we hadnt lucked onto the census, we wouldnt have. Hence the comment - don't go.
We preponed our trip by a day, as there was no more birding to be done, and left the next day. We didnt have the enthu to make the expensive, long trip to Satpada to see dolphins.
The road from Bhubaneshwar to Barkul is great. NH5 and empty. Also, Chilika Dhaba, 1 km from Barkul, tho dirty, serves HUGE, delicious prawns. We didnt taste anything else, but were told it's famous for all its dishes.

The female of the species

About 6 weeks ago, we had a flourishing curry leaf plant. But let me sequel to the prior post on the common mormon life cycle we witnessed. A few weeks later, two more caterpillars appeared. We got them in and proceeded to rear them as before. They both died, one after the other. The pesticides in the commercial leaves we fed them?
So, when about 6 weeks ago we saw SIX of them on our curry leaf potted plant, we decided to leave well alone. As they grew, in just a few days, they stripped the plant bare. Also, 3 disappeared, one after the other. We bought another one, and transferred the remaining 3 to it. They stripped it bare, too. And two more vanished. The remaining one got into pupating position, and we got it inside.
The pupa was different from the earlier one - it was green.
It took exactly 2 weeks, I guess because it's winter. And this time, we got a female! We were lucky to see her just after she'd exited the pupa, tho we missed her getting out. This time, both of us were there!
See the crimson spots, which show it's a female. She took a couple of hours to fly away.

Feeding babies

Buoyed by the success of uploading pics in my last post, here's a story and pics about learning to feed a baby bird.

Walking in the park in July, it was dusk, the time I enjoy the most. It's quiet, there's a fragrant breeze, and Im at peace. But today, rounding a corner, I was startled by a little myna hopping in panic across my path and struggling into the undergrowth at the edge, for cover. Clearly a fledgeling fallen from its nest. Where was the nest? I looked at all the trees in the vicinity, could spot nothing. No frantic parents. Just the baby bird, unable to fly; the gathering dark; lots of crows, certainly cats and dogs, perhaps the odd snake - we'd seen one a few weeks earlier. Jai rounded the corner, too, to find me pondering and looking at the undergrowth. Was picking it up - with zero idea of what it wd eat/how to feed it - the right thing to do? BUT, 2 days later, we were scheduled to leave for a week's holiday to Goa. I called my friend, Deepika. Would she look after it while we were away? "I have absolutely no idea how to. But I will." That's her spirit and kind heart for you! We couldn't just leave it. (Note: If you can see the nest and the parents, try putting the bird back in. If you can't see or reach the nest, but can see the parents, try putting the bird into a cloth sling -like a large handkerchief- and hanging it on a branch. The parents, stimulated by the baby's calls, will feed it. As told to us later by Manu of Mysore Amateur Naturalists). We gently picked up the frantic baby and put it in my bunched up sweatshirt. At home, we punched holes in a large cardboard box, lined it with a soft towel and paper (after seeing the poop on the sweatshirt). And put birdy in. It scrabbled into a corner, trying to hide. We tried calling Salim of Banerghatta Rescue Center (BRC) - 080-22947300. "It needs rehydrating. Get a syringe,and put some diluted electral down its throat. But dont get it wrong, or it'll die." "What do you mean, get it wrong?" "If it dies, it's wrong!" We got the syringe, but it sounded too dire. We tried feeding it mashed banana. At the end of 30 mins, it and we were covered with banana, and it refused to open its beak. We gave up and let it rest. The next morning, we called up Manu. To our relief, he agreed (a) to give us a demo of feeding it and (b) to take it in after 2 days, when we had to leave.

Driving to Manu's place at about 8.30 a.m, we were startled to hear a soft chirp from the box. And another! Manu picked it up confidently, picked up a piece of banana, and held it in front of birdy. It immediately gaped wide, screaming, and gulped down the banana. gah! It eats melon, banana, singapore cherries, chikku..we got all of them. Also boiled and mashed some egg yolk and oats, and fed it for protein (If you can find cockroaches or other insects, mash them and feed! I tried asking my long suffering veggie vendor for insects. No, not the vegetable. The worms in the vegetable. No luck). Every 2-3 hours, birdy would start chirping, which meant: feed me!

I'd take it out, place it on paper, clean out the poop from its box - it would poop after (sometimes during) each feed :) by simply throwing the paper away. Then, feed time. It would gape every time I held a morsel to its beak - perhaps 4-5 times. Then it wouldnt open its beak, which meant: 'I'm full".


By end of day two, we were getting quite comfortable with each other! It was quite a pang to hand it over to Manu..when we checked a couple of days later, he said it was doing very well. We couldnt get through to him after that. We hope it flew away and is healthy and happy.

Jai Poopie, Junior - a biography

‘Twas around the 27th of August, 2008, that I saw a small, blackish caterpillar on the leaves of our small potted curry-leaf plant. I’d seen some before; left them alone, and they’d disappeared in a couple of days, eaten possibly by birds or a lizard. Determined to give this one a chance, my twin nieces, Jai and I carefully put it into a wide mouthed, gauze-lidded box, and opened some books to check what species it was.
Different butterfly species lay their eggs on different plants, which serve as food for their larvae. So, if you know the plant, you can find out the species. Our book said, both the Lime and Common Mormon caterpillars can be found on the curry-leaf plant. A closer look at the caterpillar, and a search on the Net confirmed that indeed, the caterpillar was that of the Common Mormon.
We lined the box with tissue paper, put in a dried twig, and fresh curry leaves every day. The caterpillar ate, and pooped, and ate, and pooped. See the mustard-seed-like droppings above – that’s about an hour’s output! I used to shake out the tissue paper everyday.
Given Jai’s name of Jai Poopie (short for Jai Fuffarji, my brother’s daughter’s name for him), and the caterpillar’s propensity for pooping, it was promptly named Jai Poopie Junior, JPJ for short. It was a source of pleasure for both JPJ’s namesake Jai and me to peer often and marvel at JPJ.
Caterpillars moult, or shed their skin, as they grow. The phase between two moultings is called an ‘instar’. In its first instar, the Common Mormon caterpillar looks, as you can see, like a bird dropping or bird poop, to protect it from being eaten by birds.
On the 1st Sep early morning, my sister, the twins and my mother all left. At 12 noon, I took a look at JPJ. Its colour, we noticed, seemed a little dull. I came back at 3 pm, and was stunned!
In the space of those 3 hours, it had turned green! Its second instar!!
For the next two weeks, JPJ ate prodigiously. He grew into a handsome, large, velvety, rich green caterpillar. It was amazing to watch his jaws scything effortlessly thru a leaf, he’d finish one in about 30 seconds. chomp-chomp-chomp-chomp-chomp-chomp-chomp-chomp-chomp-DONE. Jai and I were fascinated.
To save our little curry leaf plant, I tried feeding JPJ leaves from another, insect infested plant. No, thank you. OK, every morning fresh from our veggie vendor (“No, only one sprig, please. yes, to feed a worm. No, I’m not mad”). He’d eat that if there wasn’t anything else. But he showed a clear preference for the leaves from our downstairs plants, esp the tender ones.
JPJ, 10th Sep. Note his size relative to a curry-leaf, the handsome markings, and the rich colouring.
On the 11th, we had to leave for Chennai for two days. We were wondering if he’d be ok. On the 11th morning, Jai showed me a large, brown stain on the tissue paper, and JPJ crouched, shrunken, on the underside of the lid. It looked like he’d had diarrhea. We were concerned – was he ok? The position looked like he was ready to pupate, but why the diarrhea, why had he shrunk?
I later understood from Mrs. Salem, our encyclopedia on anything lepidopteral*, that caterpillars evacuate their bowels in preparation for pupating (*showing off the only entomological term I know. Butterflies and moths belong to the order ‘Lepidoptera’)
1.45 p.m, ready to leave, and no change. He’d stopped eating and pooping, and still clung to the underside of the lid.
13th Sep, 1.30 p.m: We’re back, and the first thing we do is rush to JPJ’s box: tra la! A totally dried looking, small pupa, attached to the underside of the lid with a silken loop.
Salem Aunty told us that the butterfly could take anywhere from 8-15 days to emerge. 21st came, and no change. Jai was disappointed – he left for the US that night, for a week, hoping that JPJ would stay put till he returned. Every day when we spoke, I’d have to give him an update: no change.
And then, today morning: 25th Sep, 7 a.m I saw that the pupa had turned dark, and the walls looked thinner, kind of transparent: as I lifted the lid to take a picture, I could see it shake as the butterfly within kicked! Then it became still, and after a while with no movement, I thought it had kicked because I’d disturbed it, and left it alone. See pic below, see the prominent ‘horns’, not there in the fresh pupa?


8.30 a.m, I walk into the hall – and let out a yell that brings our cook running. There’s a large, handsome butterfly hanging from the lid!! It’s beautiful. It’s amazing. It’s incredible! Our cook and I gaze at it and whisper, fascinated. It’s pooped! A liquid, brown, blob. Amazing, after 2 weeks of no food or drink. It hangs there, slowly folding-unfolding its wings.



I call up Salem Aunty. “It’s a male. The female has crimson spots”, she tells me. Look at it. Isn’t it beautiful? I now understand the term META-morphosis. What an amazing change has taken place – and within such a small pupa! The colour and shape of the body. Those scything jaws have vanished, replaced by a long, slender, coiled proboscis – tube – which it will use to insert into flowers and suck up the nectar. The miniscule, stumpy legs are gone – check out the slender, dainty, ballerina legs. The antennae. And of course, the beautiful wings. See the ‘tail’? That’s why this species of butterfly belongs to the family of butterflies called ‘Swallowtails’.
At 10 a.m, it looked vigorous, moving its wings briskly. It gave me a shot of its wings spread out. I held the lid near the window. Letting out a valedictory poop, it went flutter-flutter, and away it flew, to land on the bushes outside. A minute later, it was gone. Au revoir, JPJ!

Still around

The days have just slipped past - and it's been 1 1/2 years since I last blogged.
Mysore has really changed. The road we live on - Temple road - has seen a profusion of large stores. Every small lane has 2-3 blocks of flats coming up. The foothills of the pristine Chamundi hills have seen much 'development'. I hate that word in the Indian context. It inevitably means urban chaos. It's also really annoying when people ask: "Why Mysore?" and then, comfortingly "yes, it's getting developed". Yeah, right. Like Bangalore - so 'developed'.
Not that Mysore's lost it's charm, far from it. It's just showing warning signs. We still cycle, the weather's still great, and loads of peaceful, green lanes. This summer - which was a long one, with hardly any monsoon showers- was just like Indian summers should be. It was hot, but when you stepped, sweating, into our cool, dark home at peak afternoon, one didn't even need the fan. The day cooled off, till late evening saw people strolling in the parks, a cool, fragrant breeze, redolent of jasmine. Evoking nostalgia. And ah, the golden, delicious, alphonso ('apus') mangoes perfuming the air!The delicious shock of a glass of chilled orange juice..the clean,clean feeling of a bath after a sweaty jog..and the snuggly, mmmmm feeling of pleasant, cooooool mornings. :)

BTW - we were featured in a Business World article last May - here's the link http://www.businessworld.in/content/view/1777/1838/ .

Media and Character!

It's strange how different media change the way we express ourselves; and therefore the impressions others get of us. If you have been only conversing via email, for example, with a remote colleague, you may find him or her witty, articulate,humorous. The same person in person may be quiet and dull. Humour may metamorphose into sarcasm.
My batchmates interact on an egroup. While some remain constant to the qualities I knew in them, some startle me constantly! The person who was, and still is when we talk, dry and opinionated, on the egroup is well read, modest, logical, funny, and a prolific in his emails. Another quiet soul has an email sense of humour you wouldnt believe. Another person very dear to me is, at a party or with friends, a raconteur par excellence with the enviable facility of the right quip at the right time, making one roll with laughter. His email communications are a tad awkward and brief.
I meander when I talk. Not when I write.
How is this?

Guilt or Responsibility

In college, I had a very close friend. Immediately on graduation, she went to the US for her post graduation, married , and settled down there. Her parents here in India were then in their late 50s/early 60s and actively occupied. They thereafter built a new house . Her father started a new profession. After some years, he had a bad accident, and her mother ran frazzled over his long recuperation. They then sold their home, and moved into a senior citizens' apartment block, still continuing to lead active lives. Their other child was also settled in the US and they were very clear that they did not want to be a burden to them. I stayed on here in India. I fixed my work places around where my single mother lived. She relied on me for moving homes, for illnesses, for managing her money, for various, and I, in my late teens and then my twenties, was envious of my friend. I was resentful also of her freedom. Lucky her, I thought. Lucky, lucky her, with such independent parents and little emotional turmoil.
Now both our parents are in their 70s. My mother is independent, happy and settled. I am married, used to responsibility and resent it no longer. I have learnt to appreciate family bonds and cherish them. Last year, my friend's father was diagnosed with a malignant tumour and has been recuperating after surgery and chemotherapy . He's doing well now.
I know the guilt which, inspite of her parents' reassurances, my friend feels. I know, too, that I would have gone through the same, if not worse, burden of guilt.
I am now glad that life let me take the responsibility and earn the pleasures of a mother who is secure, who knows she has her home with us whenever she wants, that she can call and I am there. It's no longer a resentment.
___________________________________________
Part Two: Substitute children. And substitute parents.
Both my mother and mother-in-law live alone, hundreds of kilometers away. It's their choice, as the advantages of running their lives the way they are used to, with their friends and routine, and the thought of uprooting it all to start over again albeit with children, as of now outweighs the advantages of living with family.
Both of them, to our utter thankfulness, have got in some measure, substitute children. When my mother returns from here, for example, she calls her neighbour. "I'm landing at 1 pm, so I'm coming for lunch." My mother-in-law and her neighbour - both of these 'substitute children' are women our age- did the Dasara ceremonies together. The neighbour leaves her kids with my MIL when she's coming home late, and my mother knits sweaters for her 'foster' family. We all win!

Just catching up

It's been a long, hot (for Mysore) summer. Last year there were lashings of thunderstorms all through May. This year, just a couple (albeit one with hailstones! yahoo). It's mid June now, and except for 3 days of cool rain 2 weeks ago, nothing. Rained again last evening.
Jogging around Kukkarahallai lake, we were upset and surprised to find a major stink from almost all of the periphery, coupled with a thick, slimy, ooze. Really bad. And relieved to read about, the next day, action being taken to clean it up. How we hope that Mysore will grow with some semblance of grace and planning.
Business has been slow. And promises to continue that way. An upside of that of course, is the long, slow, lazy days with each other and Mysore. It's been too hot to go cycling, though.