A moment of truth and another of madness at the Little Rann of Kutch

 We were off before the sunlight kissed the horizon on a sleepy and indolent December morning. The rising sun looked beautiful as it lent a kind of splendour to the perpetual sea of parched land.

In the vehicle, I shivered in the rigorous chill of the salty desert air. The car slowly gathered speed making its way down the road as the morning was beginning to break into soft colours of pink and orange against the brilliant azure sky. 

My lips were beginning to dry and I had to lick again and again to keep them warm.

We kept moving on the road until suddenly Gopal (the navigator) slowed down to turn right. The path was now no longer flat but marshy, parched and zigzag. He pressed the accelerator as we whizzed past ubiquitous dogs which didn’t shy away from racing against the vehicle.

All signs of humanity slowly faded away and we were in the wilderness… of a different kind.

To a passerby it may look an arid, desolate place but the connoisseur knows it’s a heaven for migratory birds as Flamingos, White Pelicans, Storks and many others who fly in great numbers during the winters. 

Gopal stopped the car looking at something only he’d see in front of a small pond as we peered out of its window curiously. The sunlight was beginning to spread over the ice cold water glistening in the early morning sun as the Painted Storks and Lily white Pelicans went about their business devouring the food. Lesser Flamingos were scattered everywhere and stood resting on one leg sleeping and dreaming with their pink backs radiating in the sunshine. They didn’t bother to look at us as if for them we were a part of a different universe all together.

A group of Common Stilts emerged from the pond in a characteristic manner on the far side enjoying the fierce blowing wind. The entire group cautiously moved right after emerging from the water but one of them still playful swung left.

Not too far away two sinister eyes were watching it, waiting to seize the moment. It was a raptor… a Peregrine Falcon – the world’s fastest, waiting for a maiden coup this morning. It was an unmistakable gesture as it camouflaged itself with commendable ability.

The Falcon was readying itself to move towards the little Stilt and I could feel the impetus. It was beginning to amass its arsenal… speed, strength and stealth as it waited for the right moment to strike.

I pondered over at the scene for a moment while the heart began to pound in the chest with elation and trepidation both at the same time. I sought a rush of adrenaline and was anticipating it now.

The little Stilt failed to notice the assailant moving toward it who had its eyes locked on the prey. It spread out its wings majestically and looked like a bird-version of a bullet cutting the air into fractions. It swooped down smartly into a deep dive rooting its prey on the spot as if its legs were bound by lead weights. The Falcon went for the throat and held it maintain lethal pressure. The Stilt’s gestures became more frantic. It resisted for a while but the grip was deathly and slowly it started giving away its power to its nemesis. The knees buckled and arched and a few seconds later it capitulated.

The Falcon attacks the Stilt

The Predator enjoying a hearty breakfast

The friends of the prey who were visualising the incident began frenzied run for survival.

The Falcon waited for a while to ensure there was no life in its prey and that there was nobody lurking around to make a dash at him. It then began pulling its prey by its feathers to rip it open and knelt over it to gorge a hearty meal.

In a few seconds, there was a motorcade waiting for the action there as couple of other cars arrived, the engines revving eager to get closer.

One curious gentleman pushed the line and moved ahead. Gopal signalled him to stop but he resisted. 

An argument ensued and both parties began presenting reasons they thought were justified.

It was a clear breach of privacy and the Falcon now looked unsettled.

I let out cold air out of my lungs when I noticed shuffling of feet. Displaying similar agility, it flew away with its prey leaving us disillusioned.

There was no point pursuing it further. Our own indifference towards nature was ripped apart yet again.

The faces of both men now carried a stony emotion. It was a difficult situation for both of them to discern that they went overboard. An uncomfortable silence was perhaps an admission of guilt.

For me it was a moment of truth with the Peregrine Falcon and the moment of madness with some fellow birders.