Monsoon Birding Tales from Bhigwan

devanandpaul
Jul 30
8 min read

Birding hotspots go quiet when monsoon arrives. But not in Bhigwan.

This little-known town in Maharashtra has its own rhythm. As monsoon rains fill the vast Ujani Dam (on the Bhima River, a tributary of the Krishna River), the surrounding landscape transforms. Dry fields are converted into shallow lakes, lush marshes, and wetlands. The smell of damp soil hangs in the air.

And with water comes life.

Day 1

Arrival and First Safari

My monsoon birding trip to Bhigwan was arranged by Abhishek. I reached Pune airport one early morning, where I met my fellow birders Krishnakumar and Madhav. Two hours later, we arrived at our homestay, the sky heavy with monsoon clouds.

We were greeted by Shankar, our soft-spoken guide. After a quick lunch, we hopped into the jeep for our first safari.

From the get-go, the birdlife dazzled us: Eurasian collared doves perching on wires, spotted and laughing doves darting between trees, red-wattled lapwings patrolling the fields, grey-headed swamphens wading calmly, Kentish plovers tiptoeing across shallow pools. Vibrant purple sunbirds added some colour to the grey-green canvas.

I leaned towards Shankar and asked, ‘Any chance we’ll see quails today?’

Smiling, he said, ‘Soon. We’re heading to the Chinkara Wildlife Tourism Project. Rock bush-quails are usually around there.’

As we entered the sanctuary, the landscape shifted into open scrub jungle, dotted with rocks and tall grasses.

Rock Bush-Quails and a Bengal Fox Surprise

A pair of short-toed snake eagles perched on a distant tree caught our attention. Shankar navigated the jeep closer. We had clicked just a few shots when a grey-bellied cuckoo zipped past—too fast for our cameras!

Then came the moment I had waited for.

Shankar suddenly halted, whispering, ‘There they are!’ Ahead of us, five rock bush-quails were foraging right out in the open. Their camouflage was perfect, earthy tones blending with the dry ground.

Just then, Shankar’s phone rang. A moment later he told us that a fox had been spotted.

We rushed to a nearby gorge, and there it was, a lone Bengal fox, pacing the scrub. Soon two more emerged. We watched them in silence, caught in the thrill of a wild encounter.

Before the moment faded, another call came in, this time from Abhishek. A Bonelli’s eagle was spotted perched on a distant tower. We raced over and managed to get a few decent shots before it took off.

Bonelli’s eagle (Photo credit: Krishnakumar)

Buttonquails, Coursers, and a Promise

Shankar suggested we try for barred buttonquails next. On the way, we saw a group of chestnut-bellied sandgrouses, a red-wattled lapwing guiding its chick, and rufous-tailed and ashy-crowned sparrow-larks foraging nearby. A lone tawny lark stood still, soaking it all in.

A sudden bird call made Shankar stop the vehicle and scan the tall grass. In no time he pointed to two barred buttonquails hidden in plain sight.

As the evening deepened, we spotted a group of Indian coursers pacing through the open fields. Before long, we reached a small cliff. Gazing into a valley below, we spotted two pied cuckoos courting, their calls echoing through the dusk.

Shankar turned to us and said, ‘Let’s come back tomorrow morning. We might see hyenas or wolves.’

That thought lit my imagination on fire.

On our way back, we spotted a few grey francolins and Indian spot-billed ducks along the wetlands. A phenomenal day, rich with sightings and surprises.

At the homestay, weariness hit me like a wave. I retreated straight to bed, lulled to sleep by dreams of what the next morning might bring.

Day 2

Red-Necked Falcon and Other Early Risers

It was just past 5 a.m. when we rolled out in our jeep, heading straight towards the Chinkara Wildlife Tourism Project area. A cool breeze caressed our faces as we drove in anticipation of the day ahead.

We had barely reached the sanctuary gates when a red-necked falcon caught our eye, perched nonchalantly on a pole. A flock of river terns flew above us.

Soon, the forest began to stir. Two common ioras flitted through a nearby bush, their yellow plumage catching the faint light. Eurasian hoopoes were poking and prodding the ground with their elegant curved bills. Rock bush-quails scurried across the track in bursts, and a few grey francolins stood motionless in the grass, ever alert.

Predators on the Prowl: Striped Hyena and Indian Grey Wolf

But Shankar had other plans.

He drove us straight to the cliff point we had visited the previous evening. After parking the jeep, he began scanning the area. We waited in anticipation. Minutes ticked by, and I wondered, Was this a wild-goose chase for a creature that wouldn’t show?

But Shankar seemed sure. Not long after, he suddenly whispered, pointing, ‘There!’

From the scrub a striped hyena burst into view, running uphill with a huge chicken clamped in its jaws. We watched in disbelief as the animal made its way towards a gorge, vanishing into the bushes.

The moment was electric.

And just when we thought the show was over, an Indian grey wolf emerged, following the hyena’s path, nose down, tail flicking. It reached the edge of the bushes, but instead of entering, it turned, walked uphill, and settled on a patch, surveying the landscape below.

We watched these two apex predators a good half hour.

A Pitstop Surprise

On our drive back to the homestay, we took a pitstop at a roadside tea shop. As we sipped our hot coffee, a pair of eastern red-rumped swallows swooped low, catching insects mid-air. A brahminy starling strutted nearby, unbothered by our presence.

We saw near a maize field a group of tricoloured munias, house sparrows, and baya weavers feeding together. The weavers were busily pulling at the crops, while the others hopped around, enjoying the easy meal.

Just before we reached our homestay, we spotted a tall Asian woolly-necked stork near a small water body, accompanied by a common greenshank, which looked injured. In the nearby bushes, a few yellow-eyed babblers were moving quickly, constantly chatting with each other.

We were famished; a warm, hearty breakfast greeted us at the homestay.

An Evening by the Dam

Our evening safari began with Shankar’s enthusiastic words, accompanied by a smile and a wink: ‘Get ready for some real action.’ And I knew something exciting was coming up.

We steered towards the dam area this time. Recent rains had turned the trails to slush, and our jeep wrestled through sticky mud, but Shankar managed to keep us steady. Soon, we were surrounded by a flurry of wings—small pratincoles landing and taking off in playful bursts.

‘We’ll go to the far end,’ Shankar announced. We didn’t question his decision.

We drove through a shallow flooded track. Water lapped at the doors. Mud splashed. My heart pounded. It was part safari, part water ride. But we made it through.

On the other side, a group of oriental pratincoles greeted us. The wetlands were now fully alive—hundreds of cormorants huddled together, red-wattled lapwings were squawking, and river terns filled the air. Painted storks, Eurasian coots, and black-headed ibises were seen in the distance.

Shankar then drove us to a quiet patch, and pointing at a grassy spot, he said, ‘Keep your eyes there.’ We waited silently. And there it was—a shy small buttonquail, peeking through the undergrowth. It cautiously moved closer, giving us just enough time to capture some lovely shots before disappearing into the grass.

We moved again, and soon came across a group of rain quails, another delightful encounter. Encouraged, Shankar tried for the elusive yellow-legged buttonquail, but no luck this time.

We then drove towards a nearby boating area, hoping to find a brown crake or painted snipe. But the rains had taken over, and the road ahead had turned into a lake. We had to retreat. Disappointing? A little. But that’s how it is—nature writes its own script.

Before heading back, we were treated to a sight of 30 greater flamingos and a grey heron, not to mention a shikra being chased by noisy crows.

We took a scenic detour on our way back, and found a small burst of activity in the scrub—red avadavats, a pied bushchat, Indian robins, and a flock of Indian silverbills.

Back at the homestay, Shankar asked us to rest, as the night was still young.

Encounters on the Night Trail

Dinner was quick; we were eager to head back out.

The sky was dark and quiet, and the forest had changed its face—calm.

Our first stop was unexpected: a dump yard near a bridge. ‘Poultry waste attracts predators,’ Shankar explained. ‘Wait quietly.’

And then it happened. A jungle cat slinked into view, alert. We watched in awe as it padded through the reeds, paused, listened, and moved again.

Next came the jackals—a group of three, trotting like ghosts across the field. They were too far for a decent photo, but their sighting alone was reward enough.

We crept along dark trails, scanning for nightjars. After a patient search, we had two lovely sightings: an Indian nightjar and a savanna nightjar.

Just as we were ready to leave, we saw something tiny on the road—a baby rabbit. It melted our hearts.

We returned to the homestay, happy and tired. What a day! From hyena, wolf, and jackals to nightjars and bunny—it felt as if the wild had shared its secrets with us.

Day 3

A Quiet Start and a Watchful Buzzard

Our final morning in Shirsuphal village began quietly—soft light, crisp air, and the hum of our jeep rolling down familiar tracks. The countryside was still waking up when we spotted our first bird of the day: a white-eyed buzzard, sitting tall on a bare treetop.

The Owl King and Sandgrouses

As we moved towards rockier terrain, the fields gave way to scrub and stone. Amidst this ruggedness, we spotted a shadow: Tucked into the curves of a boulder was a rock eagle-owl.

We had hoped to see one more bird, the painted sandgrouse.

As we continued our search under the warm morning sun, a pair of Malabar larks scurried by, their russet feathers catching the light. Nearby, two tawny larks were foraging.

Then came the wonder moment—not just one, but five painted sandgrouses resting on the ground, their feathers blending perfectly with the dusty earth.

The Wild Bids Goodbye

The morning continued to gift us more—lapwings, buttonquails, francolins, and more sandgrouse. Each sighting felt like a parting wave from the wild.

Then there was a hiccup. The wheels of our jeep suddenly sank into a muddy patch; they simply wouldn’t budge. After a bit of pushing and pondering, we called in a tractor to extricate the jeep.

Hearts Full, Memory Cards Fuller

After a hearty breakfast at the homestay, we thanked Shankar for a memorable trip. It was time to head home. Our bags were packed, boots still muddy from the trails.

As we began our journey back to Pune, we had a shared feeling of having not just watched the wild for three days but lived amidst it.

‘In every walk with Nature one receives far more than he seeks.’

―John Muir