all the avifauna i’ve chased has been nothing more than perchance, blips of colour that make one stop awhile and fall around before hankering back on to the task at hand, which at most times comprises of Point A to Point B in the shortest, safest possible time… the rare times i’ve tried to resolutely go birding and birding alone, researching lists, pin-pointing habitats and all the rigmarole that goes into tracing flicks and flights… there have always been two in the bush determined not to let the shutterbug be… birding for me, i surmise thus, is a matter of serendipity…
to emphasise the case in point, i basked in the sun all through the day at the base camp of Stok Kangri in 2015, having summited early morning and now gloating around despite a splitting headache and loss of appetite… unless the weather gods deem it so, we seldom take a rest day while trekking through the higher climes, and it was a hitherto unknown feeling having the opportunity of loafing around the camp with no chores at hand…
so after a good four hour nap, i woke up to a sunlit afternoon, perfect light to tote the camera around for a while… while the higher climes try to remain maturely grim to remind one of the gamut of dangerous scenarios that can crop up in a matter of minutes, there always remain patches where life carries on anyway, unperturbed by all the trials and tribulations of unforgiving, indelible elements… but as it has to be, save a few noisy Choughs and a rather bored looking White-capped redstart… nothing came to punctuate the windy massif, the Marmots all nibbling around at a safe distance and the Robin accentors that had been flocking around in decent numbers having taken to another valley… having seen the summit, the dejection was not that great, and so we went back into the sleeping backs, in dreams of hot chicken and a warm bath…
the next morning, though, we were literally up with the lark… and offspring hackling the parent in unabashed sonority, the visibly worried bird scraping across the little shavings of grass hoping for a reprieve… off and on they skipped with the fare, till a meal was scored… the child closed its eyes in reared gratitude as it was spoon-fed…
the next morning, though, we were literally up with the lark… and offspring hackling the parent in unabashed sonority, the visibly worried bird scraping across the little shavings of grass hoping for a reprieve… off and on they skipped with the fare, till a meal was scored… the child closed its eyes in reared gratitude as it was spoon-fed…
…every darned time… i murmured getting up from the ground to pack up and rush down to the comforts of homestays…
the Horned Lark is a widespread songbird spread across fields, deserts and tundra, foraging for insects and seeds in the thin shrubberies… the adult male has a distinct black band looking like a pair of horns on the head…
Horned Lark (Eremophila alpestris) male with juvenile, Stok Kangri Base Camp, Ladakh Himalayas, Aug 2015
Source : www.traveltravailsandheck.com/2017/02/on-pestering-offspring.html