It is the middle of the rainy season and the konkan is a veritable patchwork of velvet green. The sun is hidden by the billowy grey black clouds . All one can see are the farmers, furiously working away in the fields, ploughing, transplanting the rice seedlings. The water is almost knee deep and if it was mumbai there would be the street urchins ready to jump into it for a swim. But the poor villager plods on half bent transplanting the precious crops, so the millions and millions of people of the country can be fed.
I stand on my porch, camera in hand, not to miss out on the photo op. For me it is paradise, a colourful paradise. But for the villager it is nothing new . He has seen this all his life, and it only means one thing. Time to cultivate and grow his crops. Rice, Ground nuts and sesame.
Just when you think that all you can see or hear around the place is human voices and the low mooing of the cattle, you can hear the booming voice of the bharadwaj .He slowly plods along on the soft grass looking out for insects and grubs. They are known to forage for birds nest in search of eggs. It is a heavy bird and can hardly fly and it is content just ambling round the village grounds.
Being a cuckoo species one would expect that it would lay eggs in other birds nests, but it builds its own and hatches the eggs.
The Bee eater is another small bird, all green with coppery feathers on its head. a close look and one would almost think that he has lined his eyes with 'kajal'. He lets out a trilling sound as he sweeps past the greenery also in search of food. In the summer they clean themselves by have a mud bath in a big group, but in the rains I have seen them fly in the air in groups or sitting on the electric wires just waiting for something to fly by. They swoop down in one motion, thrash out the wings and swallow their meal!!!
The water hen, as you can see from its name, is always close to the water bodies. She too has a unique call and most of the times has a brood along with her. It is nice to see them cross streams all in a single file
The rainy season I suppose is season of plenty. Lots of creatures in the air and among the grass to be pecked up and eaten. Usually this is the time they lay eggs. Plenty of food for the young ones and the adults too. And a lot of foliage for all the birds to build their nests in hidden places. Otherwise the bharadwaj or the Brahminy kite that is always in the air with its wailing , would just swoop down and enjoy a nice meal of little chicks. And as the farmer ploughs the land to transplant his rice, the drongo, bee eater, king fisher and a huge number of species wait on the nearby wires to pick what ever insect is thrown up by the activity.
The rain comes down in torrents, the birds just disappear in a jiffy, I shut off my camera ( it is not water proof you see), and make way into the house, the only thing I can think of is a hot cup of tea and some pakoras. All that remains is the farmer, still ploughing and guiding his bulls through the muddy water, no tea for him, only the rains and a hope that his crops will be good this year too.
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