I have hit the “field guide” phase of my life. Especially the ones with glossy paper and color photographs. My latest and most thumbed is Photographic Field Guide: Wildlife of South India by Surya Ramachandran and David Raju. It delivers on everything it promises. And given the paper quality, quite a heavy carry. The entry reads,
“VELVET-FRONTED NUTHATCH
Sitta frontalis Resident L 10cmBest Viewing Widespread in hill forests of the region
This dainty bird creeps along tree branches and boles, resembling the movement of a woodpecker. It is a resident of moist woodland tracts, especially in the hills and foothills of the Western and Eastern Ghats. The male shows yellow eyes with a black stripe behind. Females lack the eye stripe. They occur in small flocks, vocalizing regularly and moving along with a larger hunting party. They descend to lower storeys when food is abundant.”
I caught sight of a bunch of these birds on a large tree trunk, creeping headfirst down. I really need to start learning the land’s flora. It was a beautiful tree. Majestic and foreboding, it’s a shame that I cannot identify it for what it is.
“Are the velvet-fronted nuthatches’ feathers really blue, or is it an optical illusion?”
“The violet-blue color of a velvet-fronted nuthatch is created by structural coloration rather than a true blue chemical pigment,” the AI overview spat back.
But just 2 seconds earlier, to “Are the velvet-fronted nuthatches’ feathers really blue?” I had got the response “Yes, the upperparts of the Velvet-fronted Nuthatch are rich violet-blue, royal-blue, or aquamarine-blue, rather than the plain blue-gray seen in most other nuthatch species.”
I’m getting a little touchy with all this AI business. If I know what I want, I get that answer. I’m not really sure that’s progress. This is like a sleazy butler to a crazed lord.
The nuthatches, meanwhile, were busy sidling up and down the tree trunk. Honestly, I never thought I’d see these birds here. Biccode, near Sakleshpur, seems to be a bird paradise.
Sundar Singh, the estate manager, is from Kaliyankadu, Nagercoil. When I dropped a few names from near Kanyakumari that I passed through long ago, when I used to visit Kollemcode, he opened up with a smile.
“We are planning a big meeting hall, sir. Right from the main road, it’ll be accessible if you want to hold a birthday party or a company event,” he beamed.
I listened, horrified.
What of the nuthatches? Will this verdant, forested place be beset by noisy loudspeakers and corporate rats? I have to visit a couple more times soon before it gets commercialized. Why can’t humans let things be?
I returned the next day to see if lightning would strike twice. No signs of the nuthatches. I wasn’t too disappointed. The tree was still there. This time I stood staring at the tree. Framed by tall silver oaks and casuarina, the tree stood like a wise old sentinel. It seemed to look in every direction at once.
In my field guide, I marked one more species as “decently viewed.” I allow myself that luxury to reward myself with familiarity with nature. Like the white belt of karate. Something we earn just by putting on the karate gi.
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