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P. Devarajan

Lesser Florican flying over Amba grass land in Sailana — Kishore Rithe

Sailana (Ratlam district) , Sept. 3

ON the up and down soft gradients of some 900 hectares of grassland in Sailana, the elusive (or is it scared) Lesser Florican flies in quietly for breeding in the early part of June and by October exits to none knows where. They say it flies south but there is no evidence or study.

The dance or the frequent vertical take offs of the male Lesser Florican (Sypheotides indica) or khar mor in Hindi, from a single grassy spot, to draw the attention of the female, is a free show and one had the first glimpse through binoculars on the noon of August 30.

Dinesh Kothari, his wife, son and myself entered the Sailana grounds in the morning with the skies donning a rain hat. Part of the distance was made in a Maruti Gypsy with the rest on feet through wet grass, knee high at some places.

Wildlife enthusiast P. M. Lad

None of us could sight the bird though one saw a female flying in the fashion of the cormorant. In the afternoon we went back to the area with Khim Singh (Khima), the local villager, leading a party that had Bhimsen Patil and the 70-year-old wildlife maestro, P.M. Lad.

We walked to Shikarwadi as Khima informed us of the presence of two males and one female in the area, which he had sighted personally. At 3.45 p.m., with the rains off and the skies wearing a sunshine hat, one saw for the first time the jump of the Lesser Florican at a distance of 300-400 metres through binoculars with its white and black tipped wings and face looking windward.

Till 5 p.m. it made 20-30 aesthetically pleasing lift-offs, never once tumbling. On Sunday, Kishor Rithe and Nishikant Kale joined us for the drive and long trudge into the Amba beed (grassland), off the Sailana- Piploda Road. Villager Bherulal was there to take us to the stomping grounds of the Lesser Florican, which had two males and one female. At around 10.30 a.m. the first Florican "kuda (jumped)" and through the noon we were witness to the dance of a second male.

Khima, who has worked with Salim Ali, Lad, Ravishankar, Bhatt and a few others, knows the Lesser Florican from around 1982 when the Sailana grasslands earned the status of a bird sanctuary. A maharaja sold a large part of the grasslands to private parties and today the bird area has private and Government land with farmers growing cotton, soyabean, urad, jowar and bajra apart from looking after the area.

"Idhar koi pakshi ko maartha nahin hai (Here nobody kills any bird)," says Khima even while admitting to a sharp fall in bird numbers over the years.

During the British Raj days, the Englishmen and possibly the maharajas used to throw a big circle of men around the bird and then tighten it to rush the bird into flight. The best marksman was one who could bring down the bird with a gunshot.

In early 80s, the Lesser Florican danced some 30 feet apart and Khima admitted to watching some 30-32 male and female birds. In June they fly in from none knows where and run around when there is no grass.

In July, the rains help a luxurious growth of tall, green grass and the male, which is no more than 18 inches in height, gets into the act of jumping at the same spot partly to see the area around and partly to earn the eyes of the female.

Each jump takes the bird some four feet into the air. Incidentally, the female is about 25 per cent bigger than the male. After feeling the area for a time, the male selects a spot for the leap of creation.

Perhaps, Salim Ali has put it best: " The cock's nuptial display consists of constantly jumping or springing up above cover of long grass or crops even up to 500 times in a single day. This is believed to advertise his presence to hens and to warn off rival cocks.

"A loud rattling or clapping auditory signal produced by the wings accompanies each jump and the performer floats down perpendicularly with tail spread out, vaguely reminiscent of the male Iora's aerial display."

All of us did hear over the distance the flutter of the wings, a phut-phut-phut. For Lad, the sharp drop in bird numbers could also be due to poor insects growth following a crop shift from urad to soyabean and the use of pesticides.

Grass has rhizome-breeding insects that are food for the birds though birders are not sure of the type of grass the bird favours.

Seemingly, the male flies out first by end of September while the female stays backs till November-December. It lays four green eggs with a dash of white and black and the incubation time is about 21 days, says Khima, who just cannot be wrong.

On Monday, we moved back to Shikarwadi and the first jump was made at 10.40 a.m. Between 10.41 a.m. and 10.45 a.m., it jumped six more times. Then it flew away.

Khima built a 3x3x3 ft bamboo hide, reluctantly covered it with a green cloth with holes brought in by Dinesh and hid the contraption with cut stems of palas, which grow some three feet tall in clusters over the grasslands.

One can spot a rare babool tree but nothing else. We lost the hide from a distance, so well was it made by Khima. We carried the hide to a spot in the Shikarwadi area where the male bird was found moving.

At around 11.10 a.m. Kishor and Kothari moved in to the hide with their cameras while Nishikant, Khima and myself waited some 300 feet away. The hide did not allow for all-round viewing being covered with the green cloth.

At around 1.15 p.m. the bird flew back and started on a quiet walk. Kishor and Dinesh shooed the bird from the hide at a distance of 30 feet when for some reason the bird refused to jump and by 4 p.m. went its way into the standing soyabean crop.

"We looked at each other for a second. The colour mix and plumes can never be caught on camera in detail. It is only for the eyes of the beholder," said Kishor struggling out of the hide and my friend was surely lucky.

Nishi and myself had the consolation of watching a painted partridge call furiously. Lad has been coming to the spot for the last 20 years as "nothing can match the innocence and the soft grace of the Lesser Florican."

On the last day, Nishi and myself moved into the hide at around 10.10 a.m. and stayed still till 1.10 p.m. as monsoon winds drummed a strong beat on our hide and rain quails kept a constant cackle. The Lesser Florican did not come even 300 feet near us. As we wriggled out of the hide Kishor comfortingly said: "We will come back again next September."

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