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It had been about a year since Sumit Sen, Ramki Sreenivasan and I had done a
major birding trip and we were itching to go back to northeast India, but to an
area which was still little known. None of us had seriously birded south of the
Brahmaputra River, in the celebrated South Assam Hills, so that area was
naturally very tempting. As Pam Rasmussen wrote in her path-breaking book
Birds of South Asia: The Ripley Guide “The South
Assam Hills host numerous avian specialties, usually distinct different races
from their Himalayan counterparts, and often shared with contagious parts of
Myanmar. Even within the South Assam Hills there has been considerable avian
diversification, particularly notable in some laughingthrushes”
After several
discussions over large beverages, followed by many emails and telephone calls,
we settled on Nagaland, partly because it was little birded, but primarily
because there were several species purported to be present in this small
north-eastern state, which we had not seen before. Heading the list was the
state bird - the enigmatic Blyth‘s Tragopan, for which we had searched earlier,
unsuccessfully, in Arunachal Pradesh. But there were several others rarities as
well, like the Chestnut-vented Nuthatch, Cachar Wedge-billed Babbler, not to
mention the recently split Naga Wren Babbler.
Once we had finalised our destination, I contacted my good friend Bano Harulu,
herself a true-blooded Naga from the Zeliang tribe. Bano, a TV journalist was so
enthused about our trip that she swung into immediate action, calling the Chief
Minister Shri. Neiphiu Rio, who agreed straightaway to sponsor our trip, and she
further dug out several long-lost relatives from the bureaucratic world, all of
who promised logistical and other help. She even agreed to join us on certain
sections of the trip, which helped us a great deal, as her felicity with the
local Nagamese language, smoothened our way through several thorny situations.
If it had not been for her, our trip would not have been the huge triumph it
turned out to be and to her, our collective thanks. The next move was to rope in
the young Shashank Dalvi, the master of the birdcall and the most fervent birder
I have ever met. Ramki and I had birded with him earlier in Eaglenest in
Arunachal and were great admirers of his talents. Sumit, a doubting Thomas if
ever there was one, a hard-nosed and successful banker all his life, works on
the philosophy of not forming an opinion on just hearsay, but waits till the
incumbent passes muster! He had not met Shashank before and I was a bit
apprehensive about this, but am happy to report, posto facto, that they got
along famously, with Sumit actually congratulating the young man on his birding
abilities!
All that remained was to chart out a sensible itinerary. Khonoma, in southern
Nagaland, selected itself, as it was the only major place in the state, that is
habitually visited by Indian and global birders and is comparatively
well-documented. Shashank had earlier made a quick trip here and seen some of
its rarities, besides notching up the Gould’s Shortwing, a first for Nagaland.
Other available trip reports too hailed its glory. The omniscient Bano then
suggested the Benreu area, and an inspired choice it proved to be. Lastly, we
settled on the Intangki (or Intanki) region to round-off our trip. We would use Dimapur and
Kohima as transit points. Bano and our old allies Help Tourism, made the
requisite arrangements and we were lucky to secure the services on the
celebrated Angulie Meyase, Nagaland’s only birding guide!
Our Innerline
permits secured, refreshments procured (Nagaland has prohibition), and our
thermals packed, we congregated at Kolkata’s Netaji Subash Chandra Bose Airport
to take the only fight to Dimapur, Nagaland’s sole airport. It was while
checking in, that it suddenly struck me that, between the five team members, we
represented all five regions of India – a truly ‘nationally integrated team!’
Uncharacteristically Air India delivered us on time, and we met up with Angulie
and Shashank, who had taken the train from Guwahati in next-door Assam. Packing
our bags into a Sumo jeep we set off along Nagaland’s main artery, National
Highway No 39, which connects the two major cities of Dimapur and Kohima.
Leaving town we soon started to climb and before we had covered a mere twenty
kilometres, our car started spewing steam and came to a grinding halt. We were
soon to discover the cause of our misfortune; our driver had decided, for
reasons best known to him, to take off the fan-belt! Furthermore he had no tools
to put it back again. Darkness had fallen by now and we were a little perturbed,
as Nagaland has its fair share of political upheaval and by evensong most people
are indoors with shutters secured. We made several urgent calls to Kohima for
replacement vehicles, which providentially arrived after an hour and a half. Not
quite a propitious start to our visit.
Now relocated
into our new cars (we took the precaution of ordering two vehicles this time to
avoid a repeat performance) we drove along the highway before veering off the
main road, short of Kohima, and limped into Khonoma and into the warm confines
of “Baby’s Home Stay” run by the vivacious Vikedono, a wonderful lady of
uncertain age known universally and simply as ‘Baby’. A hot cup of tea followed
by several doses of Scotland’s finest invention did much to remove the chill
that had sunk into our bones. Ramki, a high-class Brahmin from South India, is
genetically conditioned to have a bath even in freezing temperatures, decided to
proceed with his daily ritual, while I affirmed, that having studied in a
military-type boarding school in the high Himalayas, would make do with the
customary weekly bath. A hot dinner later we were ensconced in our beds to spend
the first of several not-so-warm nights in Nagaland. It had been a long tiring
day, but a quick sighting of the uncommon Leopard Cat, on the journey, augured
well for the rest of the trip.
Khonoma, a
historic Naga Angami village and the site of two legendry British-Angami siege
battles in 1847 and 1879, is reminiscent of the Gaul village that resisted the
Romans in the legendary Asterix comics. It came into distinction in the birding
world as the local residents, who take an active part in preserving the habitat
and its wildlife, declared the environs of Khonoma Village a reserve and banned
hunting in 2000. The Khonoma villagers set up the Khonoma Nature Conservation
and Tragopan Sanctuary in 1998. This safe haven, which covers an area of over 70
sq kms is privately owned and managed by the village community. This has
resulted in birders and other tourists coming to this area and providing the
inhabitants with alternative employment. Our amiable and efficient guide Angulie
is a product of this experiment. A very laudable initiative, and which we
sincerely hope is replicated in other parts of Nagaland.
The sun rises
truly early in the east and we were out of bed at five and a few life-restoring
gulps of tea later, piled into the cars to start our first true day of serious
birding. We drove along for about thirty minutes before we arrived at a set of
buildings, constructed for the benefit of tourists. These were rather basic and
unoccupied, but had a parking lot where we disembarked to the call of the
Spot-breasted Scimitar Babbler, a recent split from its more westerly cousin the
Rusty-cheeked. The sun hadn’t hit our turf yet and we peered into the
undergrowth to seek this bird. We never saw it and despite hearing its
distinctive call throughout our entire trip it never revealed itself well, and
we only got fleeting views. The Streak-breasted did however give us reasonably
good views.
We settled on
walking further along the road where the sun had broken through, and soon I had
the first of my several lifers - the Grey Sibia. We spread along the route but
soon the sight of Shashank doing a sort of Michael Jackson break-dance had us
soon scampering to his side. The object of his elation soon revealed itself to
be an Orange-bellied Flowerpecker, an unrecorded bird for this location but
none-the-less a lifer for all of us. The walk produced Chestnut-bellied Rock
Thrush, Maroon Oriole, several Orange-flanked Bush Robins (sometimes called
Himalayan Red-flanked Bush Robin or Red-flanked Bluetail), Ashy Drongos,
Blue-fronted Redstarts, Grey Bushchats and Grey-hooded Warblers. All along the
Great Barbet kept up its raucous song and the both the Hill and the
Rufous-throated Partridges were heard intermittently. A pair of Mountain Hawk
Eagles patrolled the skies.
Hunger struck and
we decided to return to the cars for an eagerly awaited breakfast. A pair of
Assam Laughingthrushes soon exposed themselves. We were pleased to see these
recently split species and now understood the reason for their divorce from the
Red-headed (or Chestnut-headed). Our excitement soon turned to exultation as we
neared the cars, for a bunch of the very local Striped Laughingthrushes gave us
exemplary views. To cap it all Sumit sighted a Crested Finchbill perched
precariously atop a tall conifer. Had I known then that it would be the first of
several hundred we would see, I might have been a little less ecstatic. A flock
of Black-throated (Red-headed) Tits suddenly appeared to vanish soon after, as
did a large flock of Grey-sided Laughingthrushes. Red-faced Liocichla were seen
frequently and warblers were represented by the Ashy-throated. Little Buntings
were exceedingly regular and incidentally were the only member of the ilk that
we saw on the entire trip.
As we washed down our boiled eggs with warm tea, the Long-tailed Shrike of the
black- headed race (tricolor) hung around us and we saw even more Fire-tailed
Sunbirds, the dominant sunbird of the trip.
Behind where we
had parked our cars was steep escarpment covered with thick forest and the young
duo of Ramki and Shashank (along with the ever-willing Angulie) decided to
clamber up the narrow path that led to it. The reason was simple, for on an
earlier trip Shashank (with Sachin Rai) had found the Gould’s Shortwing there
along with the Naga Wren Babbler
(images from earlier trip).
A quick review of
the terrain made Sumit and me decline their kind offer to join them on this
suicidal venture. I silently cursed the indolent life I had led, full of
indulgence, and for which I would now miss a few lifers. I tried to take
consolation by arguing I had passed on the baton to those with sturdier limbs.
It didn’t work and I was green with envy. In the event they not only saw the
Naga Wren Babbler, but to twist the knife even more arduously, they saw and
photographed the Cachar Wren Babbler and probably most significantly captured on
camera the Brown-capped Laughingthrush, a bird not reliably sighted in recent
times. To top it all they also managed to see the Scaly-breasted Wren Babbler,
not to mention Flavescent Bulbuls.
Cachar Wedge-billed Babbler
It might be
worthwhile to tarry a while here to discuss the significance of these sightings.
To start with the Cachar Wedge-billed Babbler, which nomenclaturaly has had a
chequered history, for it started life as the Wedge-billed Wren Sphenocichla
humei with the sub-species, found south of the River Brahmaputra, being called S
h roberti. It has also been called Wedge-billed Wren, Hume’s Wren Babbler and
Wedge-billed Tree Babbler. It was Pam Rasmussen who gave it some sort of
stability by splitting it into the Cachar Wedge-billed Babbler S roberti and
Sikkim Wedge-billed Babbler S humei, further claiming that they were not
wren-babblers at all but babblers. To add to the confusion the Cachar is also
known as the Chevron-breasted in some quarters! All this notwithstanding it is
extremely elusive, very local and little known, and it is truly ironic that
Ramki happens to be the proud owner of two exquisite lithographs of both the
roberti and humei by John Gould painted in the 1830s. He is also perhaps the
only Indian who has photographed both species!
The Naga Wren Babbler has had less of a torturous journey, simply being split
from the Long-tailed Wren-babbler. A few pictures exist of this bird mostly from
the Khonoma area, but by and large it too remains an under-studied bird with
little understood about its habits, breeding and song.
Certainly the most significant find of the day was the Brown-capped
Laughingthrush. According to one source, Dr S Dillon Ripley was the last to see
it in Nagaland in 1952. No Photographs of this nominate species exist from India
(nor does it turn up in the food markets in Nagaland) and our valiant heroic
trio need to be congratulated for finding and photographing this truly enigmatic
bird. Restricted to Nagaland and Manipur, it has never appeared in any trip
report, though the sub-species victoriae is seen in neighbouring Myanmar and
possibly the Lushai Hills in Mizoram
Brown-capped Laughingthrush
Sumit and I
decided to walk slowly down, disturbing a large flock of Olive-backed Pipits.
After a few hundred yards I decided to take a shortcut through an open patch
while Sumit decided to follow the road. When we met up an hour later we both
sported smug looks, as both of us had put up skulking coveys of the Mountain
Bamboo Partridges, much sort-after lifers for us. Soon a large flock of
Rusty-fronted Barwings appeared. They were much paler than the ones we had seen
earlier in the Himalayas. Later consulting Pam’s book we learnt that the
sub-species khasiana found here is indeed much lighter in colour. We looked hard
for Rusty-capped Fulvettas, an esoteric species seldom seen elsewhere, but
resident in this part of the world, and while we heard it a few times, it
escaped our sight throughout the trip.
As we descended towards Khonoma, we passed through an interesting-looking
forest. The Naga’s coppice alder trees, which then sprout several straight
vertical branches, which once they attain respectable size are harvested for
firewood. Blue Whistling Thrushes lurked in these strange ‘Lord-of-the Rings’
type woods. So ended our day and we spent the evening discussing its events and
it was indeed a happy horde that retired for the night.
Next morning, we
woke to the call of the more-heard-than-seen Mountain Scops Owl, and an hour
later drove back to the same prolific spot, encountering several Mountain Bamboo
Partridges on the way, none of whom afforded us a chance to photograph them,
much to the vexation of our two lensmen. Turning a corner we surprised a cryptic
Eurasian Woodcock. This woodland bird is a nocturnal feeder and though not
uncommon, is seldom seen by birders in India. It disappeared into the
undergrowth and though we searched hard, it never reappeared. We parked our cars
at the same place and started our trek up the road. We saw several of the
species we had seen the previous day, but we all felt that the birding was much
slower that morning, though Blue-fronted Redstarts, Crested Finchbills and Grey
Sibias were abundant.
Crested Finchbill
In due course we
added Rufous (Orange)-gorgeted Flycatcher, Striated Bulbuls, Hill Prinia,
Rufous-capped Babblers and Pygmy Blue Flycatcher. Three Speckled Wood Pigeons
swooped by before we could react and the skies held Crested Goshawks, Common
Buzzard, Common Kestrel and a single Black Eagle. The sunbirds list was
augmented by a Green-tailed. But perhaps the most significant moment of all was
a sighting of the undistinguished looking, but very local and rare Yellow-rumped
Honeyguide, next to an old abandoned beehive.
Revived by a
sumptuous breakfast of Pumpkin curry and pooris, cooked by Bano, the younger
contingent started to scamper up the hill again in order to getter better
pictures of the Brown-capped Laughingthrush (they succeeded!), while we, went
down back to Khonoma to pack and proceed to Kohima for some well deserved R & R.
The journey back was uneventful, other than for a Great Barbet and an abnormally
bright Long-tailed Shrike.
On the short drive from Khonoma to Kohima we passed large timber camps with huge
logs strewn along the roads, which sent a chill down our spines. Would Nagaland
follow the example of neighbouring Assam, where large tracts of forests have
been cleared? And we cursed the greed of men, who thought of nothing in clearing
huge tracts of forests for filthy lucre.
We checked into
the extremely pleasant ‘The Heritage’, once the famous District Commissioner’s
residence, over whose tennis courts the famous battle of Kohima was fought. I
half-seriously told Sumit that had the Indo-British troops lost the battle of
Garrison Hill to the Japanese here, today he might well be called Sumit–san or
even worse Sen-san! We met the extremely personable Theja Meru, a hard-rock
aficionado, who now manages the resort and soon we were around a roaring log
fire, exchanging notes on the happenings of the day. Bano had spent a part of
her childhood growing up in this bungalow, when her father served as head honcho
of the district and was delighted to be back. Later T. Angami, the famous
forester of Nagaland, dropped in for dinner and gave us an insight to the
situation of the forests and wildlife of Nagaland, and we discussed the
contentious problem of hunting and of which more anon.
Next morning we
visited the magnificent
Kohima War Cemetery, which is without doubt the
best-maintained monument I have ever visited. It is worth coming to Nagaland
just to see what a wonderful job the Commonwealth War Graves Commission has done. We then went on to the famed Kohima food market, where we amazed at
the variety of food on offer. We replenished our stocks and were soon on our way
to Benreu. Kohima added Eurasian Tree Sparrows and a few Barn Swallows to our
list.
Contd. Page 2.....
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