Birds on the wing
|Kokrebellur, near Bangalore, offers an amazing sight in season|
Storks abound Kokrebellur’s trees serve as favourite haunts
It is nothing short of a miracle, calculated to enchant even the most jaded of city-bred souls. Some 80 kilometres south of Bangalore on the Mysore road, you need to take a turn down what rapidly becomes a pitted track, towards Kokrebellur. Twelve ki lometres of bumping and bowling down the road and you come upon what is essentially just another pan-Indian village, the hamlet of Kokrebellur. Fittingly enough, in what could be a scene straight out of Malgudi Days, little boys clad in khaki shorts and little else play with bicycle tyres, cows low in sheds, goats bleat by the roadside, women in earth-toned, rough cotton saris tend to their everyday chores.
Then, your eye travels upwards, to the handful of raintrees dotting the village. And you stand in the classic pose: mouth agape, filled with awe. There they are, scores of painted storks in their black/white/pink glory, clucking, tending to their young, checking their wingspan, some flying to neighbouring trees. Huge nests perch seemingly precariously in the crooks of branches, holding young and noisy storks. On the day I visit, there are at least 500 of these birds.
The village leads its life, the storks lead theirs and the twain do not meet, leave alone clash. The birds come in by autumn, are settled by November, breed in February-March, and are off by just before summer. How long have they been here? “Oh, before my thaatha’s thaatha’s time,” Yogesh, a village youth, replies airily, leaving us to deduce that his grandfather’s grandfather would have been around in Kokrebellur at the turn of the last century. Are the villagers disturbed by what seems to be the seemingly ceaseless clicking and mumbling of the birds? “Not at all,” he says again, apparently astonished that such questions need to be asked at all. At which point, I drop my next question, about whether the bird droppings (and boy, there are paths paved with it!) hassles the denizens of the hamlet.
Kokrebellur also plays host annually to spot-billed pelicans but I saw nary a one. In a practical move to protect the birds, the government offers monetary compensation to the tree-owners, while keeping track of the birds themselves.
I drive away, thankful to have seen what I saw and hoping with all my heart that the innocence and charm of Kokrebellur remains just so.