The Jungle Always Has the Last Word

A Morning at Bhondsi

Waking up at 4:00 AM is a struggle I rarely welcome, but when it’s for birdwatching, I can usually find a way to forgive the alarm clock.

Today was especially testing. I had just returned home from my brother’s bachelor party and finally crawled into bed around 1:00 AM. When that 4:00 AM alarm buzzed, sleep still weighed heavily on my eyes. But the anticipation of visiting Bhondsi Nature Park—a place I’d heard so much about but never managed to explore—was enough to get me moving.

By 4:15 AM, I was on the road, driving 45 kilometres fuelled by pure excitement and a strong cup of coffee.

As it turned out, I was the first one to arrive. For nearly twenty minutes, I sat in the quiet dawn, watching the darkness slowly surrender to the morning. By the time the rest of the group arrived, any lingering exhaustion had completely disappeared, replaced by that familiar restlessness that only a morning in the field can bring.

I unpacked my gear: my trusted Canon DSLR paired with a modest 55–250mm lens. For bird photography, it often feels inadequate. While I work within the limits of my lens, the birds enjoy an infinite range of their own. But as every wildlife photographer knows, you work with what you have.

The morning opened with a brilliant flash of yellow.

A Golden Oriole.

Not only was it one of my hoped-for species for the day, but it was also a lifer. The sighting lasted only a few seconds before the bird melted back into the thick foliage, but the excitement was immediate. The day had barely begun, and already Bhondsi was delivering.

An Oriental Magpie Robin soon appeared and unexpectedly stole the show. While it is one of the more commonly seen birds across the Indian subcontinent, often found around open woodlands and even near human settlements, this particular individual had other plans. Nearby stood a decorative peacock statue, and just as I finished photographing the robin, it flew up and perched directly on the statue’s head. It was one of those wonderfully unexpected moments that wildlife often delivers—a reminder that even the most familiar birds can create some of the most memorable photographs.

Soon after came another long-awaited sighting—an Indian Paradise Flycatcher, specifically the rufous morph.

My dream, however, was the elusive white morph. It’s one of those birds that seems almost mythical when you first start birding—beautiful, elegant, and never quite where you want it to be. While the white morph remained absent, I still managed a few photographs of the rufous bird despite the challenging morning light.

Once the early rush of photography settled down, we gathered for a brief introduction session with our mentor for the day. Even then, the birds refused to let us focus entirely on the conversation. Indian Paradise Flycatchers and Golden Orioles seemed to be everywhere, tempting us to constantly glance away from the discussion and back toward the trees.

With introductions complete, we headed towards an area known for its resident Indian Eagle-Owl. The site lies roughly 500–700 metres from the main park and requires a short walk through uneven terrain to reach it. Along the way, a movement overhead caught my attention.

An Oriental Honey Buzzard.

The raptor was gliding low through the woodland, pursued relentlessly by a pair of furious Jungle Babblers. The buzzard flew close enough to offer some wonderful photographic opportunities before banking over a small hill and disappearing beyond the ridge.

Soon, the trail split into two paths: one climbing to the top of the hill and the other descending into dense undergrowth below.

Hoping for a more dramatic angle, I chose the lower route. And then the waiting began. For nearly fifteen minutes, nothing happened. Then the owl completely rewrote the script. Instead of remaining hidden below, the Indian Eagle-Owl suddenly flew up and landed on a tree at the crest of the hill. Ironically, those of us on the lower path ended up with a perfectly clear view, while many of the people on top struggled to see it.

The owl remained there for less than two minutes before a group of local Mynas began harassing him, repeatedly pecking at his head. Clearly annoyed, he launched himself off the perch and disappeared into the rocky, shrub-covered hillside to our left, where the trees quickly swallowed him from view.

Just like that, the waiting game resumed. From our position below, we could no longer see him, although those higher up occasionally caught glimpses. We waited another thirty minutes, hoping he would relocate to a more open perch.

Eventually, he did.

The owl took flight once more, and this time I managed several satisfying flight shots before he settled on a distant hilltop that was barely visible.

Satisfied with the encounter, we began making our way back towards the main area to continue the search for the white morph paradise flycatcher. The return walk felt unusually generous.

A small group of Green Bee-eaters sat perfectly exposed on bare branches, glowing in the morning light as though they had been placed there specifically for photographers. A few Asian Koels crossed our path soon after, their calls echoing through the woodland. 

Back near the main area, I happened to glance up into a nearby tree and discovered three Spotted Owlets. I’ve always found owlets to be among the most adorable birds in the forest. Yet behind those oversized eyes sits an incredibly efficient predator, capable of silently hunting insects and small vertebrates. These tiny hunters were perched barely seven or eight feet away, completely asleep despite the growing activity around them.

After spending some time photographing the owlets, my attention shifted to a female Plum-headed Parakeet nearby. She was hanging upside down, completely focused on picking material from a branch—most likely for nesting. The scene made for a beautiful photograph. A few moments later, her male counterpart arrived and posed equally obligingly.

Despite all these wonderful sightings, my eyes kept drifting back towards the canopy. I was still searching for the white morph paradise flycatcher.

It finally appeared.

Unfortunately, it appeared at the farthest possible edge of the area. With my limited lens, attempting a photograph was simply out of the question. As if to mock me further, a rufous morph paradise flycatcher suddenly landed much closer, perfectly framed against a vibrant wall of pink bougainvillea flowers.

This was it. I raised my camera, locked focus, and pressed the shutter. Or at least, I thought I had locked focus. When I reviewed the images, everything was hopelessly out of focus except for a random green bush beside the bird. The flycatcher was blurred. The flowers were blurred. The entire scene had become a masterpiece of photographic disappointment.

Sensing my frustration, a White-bellied Drongo and a Cinereous Tit seemed to arrive as emotional support. Both birds perched obligingly nearby and allowed me to capture several clean photographs before continuing on their way.

At that point, it felt as though I hadn’t quite achieved the images I wanted from my dream species. Neither the paradise flycatcher nor the Golden Oriole had provided that perfect portrait photographers always hope for.

But forests have a funny way of rewarding patience. Just as I was preparing to leave, a Golden Oriole appeared out of nowhere and landed on an open branch in beautiful light. 

No leaves. No awkward angles. No obstructions.

Just the bird.

For several wonderful moments, it posed exactly as I had imagined all morning. I couldn’t help but smile. At least one bird from the wishlist had finally decided to cooperate.

On the final walk back to the car, our bird walk mentor, Ms Anand, suggested making one last attempt for the white morph near a local temple. The effort proved unsuccessful, but even there, the forest wasn’t finished giving. A beautiful pair of Plum-headed Parakeets appeared, followed by an enthusiastic Coppersmith Barbet that seemed determined to announce its presence to the entire hillside. 

In the end, Bhondsi gifted me an Indian Eagle-Owl, three Spotted Owlets, a Golden Oriole, multiple Indian Paradise Flycatchers, and a wonderful pair of Plum-headed Parakeets. Far more than I had expected when that alarm rang at 4:00 AM.

I never found the white morph paradise flycatcher in the way that satisfied the photographer in me. But every forest deserves to keep a few secrets, and Bhondsi chose to keep this one for another day.

I left without a hint of disappointment. If anything, I left feeling grateful for a morning filled with unexpected encounters, near misses, and moments that reminded me why I keep returning to the field in the first place.

As I walked back to the car, I quietly asked the jungle gods for one thing: another chance. The search for the white paradise flycatcher will continue, but there is no rush. Some birds are meant to be found only after patience, persistence, and a little luck come together at the right moment.

Perhaps our paths will cross again someday. And when they do, I’ll be grateful simply to see it, camera in hand and wonder in my eyes.

Goodbye for now, Bhondsi. I’ll be back soon.

Acknowledgements

Edited by Neha Sinha

Photographs by Nakul Aggarwal

This experience was made possible through a bird walk organised by WPCI and GP PRO.