Article published in November 2023 issue of Wildlife Today magazine
It was early for winter and after some blissful light showers, the mighty Sun was waking up the flora and fauna. My foray into the jungle this time was to fulfill a long-standing invite from my friends, the ‘web engineers’ – a rather elusive and creepy bunch belonging to the arthropod arachnid family boasting of an ancestry stretching back nearly 380 million years. Short of a phone call, it was more of a telepathic calling that finally prompted my old self to venture out for a tete-a-tete with them; and as always, I took it as yet another escapade to savour the raw environs and interact with Mother Nature and its creations.
Navigating to their locales was an arduous task especially since they weren’t abreast with GPS technology that could have enabled me to reach them between rocks and dark crevices in a twisted landscape with thick foliage. Anyhow, trudging along alone in the wilderness and reminiscing the words of Nitya Prakash – ‘Don’t be afraid to walk alone and don’t be afraid to like it – sometimes you have to be lost to find yourself again’, I reached the area and finding no one there to meet and greet me, I deduced that they definitely had no human virtues like ‘aadar satkar’ or ‘athithi devo bhava’.
‘Psssst…’, said a whispering telepathic voice, that came from a meticulously crafted and gracefully decorated web house. Water droplets clinging to the web strings looked like shining pearls and my friend, the spider, was right in the centre. ‘Won’t you come into my lair’, said he, in my imaginative mind, prompting a few of his brethren to start shaking their designer webs in apparent welcome. On being asked if I was afraid of them, in honesty I told them that I did have a phobia for them, but wouldn’t mind getting bitten as long as their bite could transform me into a real-life Spiderman! The roar of laughter was inaudible but with it, the ice had been broken.
Sitting down peacefully for a gossip session was next on schedule. Left staring at their eight eyes, eight legs, and venom-laden fangs, I could not help but wonder about their expertise as hunters, to which I was passionately informed that in their 46,000 species-strong community, some used ambush hunting, some ground hunting, some fishing, while many others used silk webs as their tool for trapping prey. With five times the tensile strength of the same weight of steel, their protein-based silk webs were examples of ace craftsmanship, a fact that left me bewildered, and my bewilderment didn’t go unnoticed as I was soon offered fresh web-caught bees as snacks, which at the risk of being rude, I declined as unpalatable for my taste. At the same time, I thanked heavens that they didn’t offer me one of their kind as food, especially as some amongst their species had a cannibalistic palate! Talking of cannibalism, one of them couldn’t help but sheepishly mention the sexual cannibalism practiced by Black Widow Spider wherein the female spider eats the male after mating – the mere visualization of which made me shudder.
In further gossip, they laughed off my unspoken questions about their engineering and hunting skills, which they pinned upon Mother Nature, and quite nonchalantly, much to my amusement, the Signature Spider showed off his typical signature-styled web, perhaps hinting at some level of literacy. The Jumping Spider excitedly boasted about his prey-grabbing skills – the most intriguing part of which was to know that since he sometimes had to jump off trees and bushes to catch prey, he always attached a web safety line before jumping to keep him safe in case he missed and went into a free fall! Another interesting fact that came into the discussion was the concept of ‘balloon flights’ by which spiderlings release silk threads into the wind allowing themselves to be carried by the breeze for long distances, aiding in their dispersal and movement.
With a stomach full of information but empty of food and drink, I felt that I had had enough to digest for a day. Thanking them profusely for a polite discussion and for being such good friends, before taking leave, it was only proper for me to highlight their cultural connection with us humans – their association with our folklore, mythology, and superstitions related to the supernatural. I also gratefully acknowledged their help in maintaining the Earth’s delicate ecosystems by controlling insect populations. Gathering my gear I arose to exchange pleasantries and bid them goodbye but not before a happy photo session which saw them smiling and posing for pictures – pictures that would remain etched both on paper and in memory for a long time.
It was mid-summer and the sun was relentlessly spitting out heat and the hot loo winds were trying to singe my face. There I was in the wilderness with a wet towel over my head, doing what I liked best – birding along with my friends! Quite fool-hardy, you may think, but the days and weeks of being sick of remaining confined to home trying to beat the #ChineseVirus had dislodged my impatience and stubbornness. A desperate me had then decided to step out into nature even if that meant braving the odds. Clad in white with a shade of black around the shoulders, I was lucky to chance upon this magnificent raptor – the Black-shouldered Kite. An elusive, skilled hunter, he was an expert in playing the blood sport of death with rodents – albeit for survival. It was his vertical hovering, about 15m from the ground, that had caught my eye. He soon dived down feet-first into the not-so-high grassy vegetation and reappeared a few seconds later, a mouse in his claws. Not that other small creatures are immune from being targeted, but mice were his favourite! In the excitement I did not forget that I was a hunter too – with a camera, that is! Looking up close through the powerful telephoto lens, I was mesmerised by his red bloodshot eyes that also matched the colour of the blood of the doomed mouse. His strong curved beak and deadly talons soon tore the flesh apart smearing him in blood – a somewhat messy affair I’d say, but it was perhaps due to the hunger and rush of a successful hunt. On another note, watching and capturing the predator and prey did leave me recalling some famous words – Choose to be a predator of your dreams rather than being a prey of your failures! June 2021, Haryana, India.
Was he confused or was he angry? Whatever, but he did look pissed at my intruding into his territory. Named Pied Bushchat, nature had been kind to him to give him a bright black and conspicuous look! Also, I did momentarily wonder – who did he like to chat with and why would someone name him a Bush-Chat; he didn’t chat with me at least, although we were both in the bush!
Nevertheless, looking at him I couldn’t help getting mischievous thoughts and a smile on my face. It had to do with his colouration. While the white patch on his shoulders, in an otherwise black body, was okay, it was the white patch on his lower private parts that caught my eye – spick-and-span, clean and white. And lo, I got my answer to his annoyance – my staring at his underside!!
Well, for a while we looked and sized up each other. His annoyance was actually my happiness, as I had found my shot. It was a trickle of sweat from my forehead entering my eye that prodded me to move on and think of matters other than this beautiful creation of mother nature!
Looking eye to eye they stood transfixed. It was a death stare for the unlucky Tilapia as she counted her last moments at the hands of Yamraj, the God of death, who had come down to take her, disguised as a Grey Heron. It was just after dawn and in the first rays of the morning light, I saw the life slowly ooze out of her. With water droplets dripping down the scales of her beautiful glistening body she tried resisting her nirvana by flipping her tail and fins in protest, probably arguing with her creator that it was still too early to depart from the world; but alas, that decision was not hers to make. Unable to help her, I started pondering over the million-dollar question – who decides who lives and who dies at the hands of whom. The answer was elusive and I was at a complete loss. However, the scenario did remind me of Rabindranath Tagore’s famous words: Death is not extinguishing the light; it is putting out the lamp as dawn has come. Giving me solace, my friend Lalit Arora nudged me to move on, and away, from the haunting scene of the two sets of eyes – one in death and one in jubilation of life. With one last look of sympathy, I turned away, etching the scene in my memory to keep for a long time!
Witnessing the sheer beauty of these magnificent Greater Flamingos early in the morning was a pretty nostalgic feeling. As I sat on the rowing boat soaking in the first rays of the sun, the gentle breeze with its slight chill began kissing my face and the fresh watery odour started stimulating the olfactory nerves. The flora and fauna in the huge lake, waking up to a bright new day, looked back at me with certain laziness after a long night of sleep. The abundant Tilapia fish popped up occasionally, breaking the water’s surface with their little mouths and dark circular eyes, curious to see me with a camera in hand, instead of a fishing rod they were used to seeing with people, early in the morning. As I clicked away, my mind was drawn to the ‘Tridev’ formation of the ‘Agni-Pankhs’ (as Flamingos are known in Marathi), and the heart-shaped sign of love, formed by their long curvy necks. I ruminated upon the ‘Tridev’ – remembering the Lords Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva, taking a moment to purify my soul with Vedic chants in my thoughts, in reverence. The love-sign formation, in its own way momentarily brought memories of home and my loved one who had come to me with the blessings of Cupid nearly three decades ago. The Flamingos seemed to sense my nostalgia and gave me a pleasing time, modelling for me with calmness and patience. Blessed was I, to witness these beautiful creations of nature!
This time it was a telepathic conversation with my distant genetic cousin, who, according to science, shared a common ancestry from 60 million years ago. Although we were both primates and shared over 96% of our DNA, he was still a monkey while I had evolved to become a human! Nonetheless, from his appearance, he seemed to be in a sombre mood and deep in thought. Apparently, he was concerned about his animal brethren up north in Ukraine! Even though that country was bereft of monkeys, he did have other friends in deer, hogs, wolves, foxes, and the like, not to miss his human cousins there too. Needless bloodshed and destruction of nature and infrastructure, he deliberated with me, using his best evaluative powers to comment on the events unfolding there. Little do you understand, I said to him – the evolution to humankind comes as a package with many evils like greed, territorial conquests, economic supremacy, power, status, and hegemony thrown in for free, I continued, metaphorically syncing the evils with our devilish northern territorial neighbour! Many moments passed as our minds interacted over seamless unsaid thoughts, mulling over the wrongs and rights in the human world. We are capable of destroying ourselves, I told him, giving umpteen examples – terrorism, jihad, and the threat of nuclear weapons being the most prominent. He looked sad and grim to see and hear the human plight and probably thanked his stars that he was still a monkey with little demands, avidly following his only dharma of ‘live and let live’.
She ran as if she was running for her life! But was it me she was running from, was the question! I was out there shooting memories with my camera when I saw her starting off for her breakfast hunt – it was early morning and the sun was up and about, beginning to peep out gracefully to spread warmth with a golden glow. She was a Eurasian Coot, a migrant from Europe, Australia, New Zealand, et al, with some of her brethren in America called American Coots. My interest in her had more to do with intrigue – why Eurasian or any other, and not Indian Coot, when she was merrily living and breeding in India and she wasn’t even ‘white’! At the hazard of being called a racist, and I am not one, I was thirsty for answers. I wanted to throw the question at her, but man’s language was not her forte, and my mental queries fell on deaf ears. However, a few telepathic vibes later, all I could assume was that her’s was a case of reverse migration – she had left the First World for India, which, generally for our populace, is the other way around! Was it India’s rich culture, or India being one of the oldest civilisations on earth, or India’s mantra of ‘Atithi Devo Bhava’, or just simply India’s identity of ‘Unity in Diversity’ that she found attractive? Anyway, whether it was the communication overflow that was the cause of her unease or her assumption that I was an uninvited guest who would soon like to woo her over breakfast, I do not know. She couldn’t show me the door, and her only way to part ways from my unpleasant company was by starting her typical splashy run-up to fly up and away – leaving me, but not before honouring me with a good picture.
This Common Sandpiper, out on his early morning breakfast stroll, was apparently a friendly guy. He saw me creeping around trying to get the right position for a good portrait; and surprisingly, instead of being ill at ease, he actually moved and stood just short of a pool of clear water so that his reflection was visible to me. Whether he did that being used to photographers taking pictures of him or whether he was simply in love with humankind, I wouldn’t hazard a guess. However, he patiently waited for me to take my shot and move on, little knowing that I needed some more time as it was a struggle for my half-century-old bones to bend so low to reach his eye-level to get the perfect shot! Thanks to him, the result of the shutter click was only to be expected – along with his clear reflection, the green plant in the bluish water added to the beauty of a near-perfect picture that went on to get selected among the Top 25 in the world!! Straightening my now aching back, I ruminated over my experience shooting this beautiful bird and couldn’t help but link it to the current worldly environment. In a way I considered the two of us as neighbours – he lived in the watery swamp and I lived on the adjacent land, both tolerant and respectful of each other while coexisting in nature. Neither did I intrude into his territory nor did he take offense to my straying too close. Oh, so much unlike the Chinese, who with 17 territorial disputes, bully their neighbours through seemingly parasitic conduct. The sun was getting hot and my mind was getting burdened with more questions than answers. Moving on, I concluded that greed, domination, and lust for power are the traits that make up the human world. I still do wonder that if birds and animals can co-exist despite their diversity and varied existence, why we humans cannot take a cue and follow in their footsteps?
My travels into the wilderness are usually to witness and capture birds and wildlife in their natural habitat, and this outing was no exception. The green forest cover and the abundant stories about flourishing wildlife had beckoned me to choose this destination. So here I was at the gates, wearing a camouflaged outfit with my camera in hand, ready to mingle with Mother Nature, having left my urbaneness behind.
The welcoming first gusts of the clean jungle breeze brought an indescribable air of freshness – a generous mix of the aroma of plants, flowers, wood, and water-soaked soil. Taking in deep breaths and pat-ting myself for taking time out for this excursion, I began my trek. Soon I had the pleasure of witnessing an enticing dance performance by India’s pride and national bird – the beautiful peacock. Short of giving a standing ovation, my twitchy fingers instead opted to take pictures to capture the majestic bird. But, alas, the joy of relishing the beauty and poise of the peacock was cut short by the unfriendly grunts of a big Rhesus Macaque monkey, who like a self-appointed sentry of the forest signalled his displeasure by staring threateningly and sending out evil vibes. My mind raced to find answers to his hostility, par-ticularly since I was a peace-lover, it occurred to me that he and his ilk had their reasons to be pissed with humans as we had reduced their dignity by turning them into guinea pigs and lab rats for laboratory experimentation, and even named the Rhesus factor in our blood type after them! Well, I had no motivation for either mentally arguing with him or standing my ground considering his aggressive posture. His unrevealed but deadly fangs prompted me to sheepishly backtrack and move on.
But, them monkeys were everywhere – troupes of big and small, mothers and babies, adolescents and all; their antics and tactics were amusing to watch, which brought a smile on my face just to reminisce that we shared common ancestors as Primates – that is if Charles Darwin was to be believed. I also soon realised that it was not polite to stare at a feeding mother, as my indiscretion invited angry looks both from the mother and her baby. How could I tell them that my interest in them was due to their eating cream biscuits from a man-owned bakery, but nonetheless, signalling that I was not a ‘monkey’ but a cultured and ethical human being, I turned to look away not wanting to intrude into their privacy, fully envisioning that it wouldn’t have been an animal who would have unethically left that packet of biscuits behind in the first place!
It had been a few hours now and my old legs complained of tiredness, forcing me to stop and take a few sips from my water bottle. The relaxing break also prompted my mind to begin musing over the rather amusing events of the morning when all of a sudden my smiles vanished at the shocking sight of a monkey entangled in plastic waste. My camera kept clicking to record the distress of the monkey which was witnessed not only by me but also by one of his brethren who was left dumbstruck.
The situation was unacceptable and a stark example of the far-reaching consequences of unsustainable practices by us humans, underscoring the fact that environmental neglect not only affected human popu-lations but also affected vulnerable species with whom we share this planet.
With this melancholic episode, my preoccupation with wildlife photography took a backseat and instead, back home, I decided to list out a social message for the entire human society, highlighting plastic pollution as one of the most pressing environmental issues adversely affecting us. Our addiction to the usage of plastics, coupled with inadequate waste management and recycling systems has led to the proliferation of extensive plastic waste and these plastics find ways to pollute not only our land and forests but also our oceans and rivers wreaking havoc on both terrestrial and aquatic ecosystems.
In conclusion, I extend a call to action, to all readers, including individuals, communities, and governments to use my picture of the plastic-wrapped monkey, as a catalyst for ushering in change and accepting responsibility for protecting the environment. It will only be through a firm resolve, sustainable practices, conservation efforts, and education, that we will be able to mitigate the damage caused by plastic pollution and protect the diverse and fragile ecosystems that make up our beautiful world.