Birds of Many Feathers in the Mangroves of Coringa

The mid-afternoon sun was bright and harsh, rays glinted off the water’s surface in the narrow channel, throwing dappled shadows through the arching foliage of the thick mangroves in Coringa Wildlife Sanctuary (CWLS). The air was still, but in the speeding boat, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Deep within the mangrove forest, with no human presence, it felt like we were in the middle of nowhere. In the midday heat, with barely anything stirring the boat journey was almost soporific.

Our tranquillity was rudely shattered by loud cackling and screeching, as two Brahminy kites swooped along the surface of the water and then perched on a nearby tree. They were squabbling as one clutched a fish in its claws, and the other tried to snatch it. The birds were magnificent specimens: beautiful brown feathers on their wings, tips dark enough to be almost black, white heads and breasts, and piercing eyes. They flapped around, their angry calls rather loud in the silence. The one with the fish held steadfastly onto its catch. The pair continued to fight for a few seconds longer, until the kite with the catch flew to the other side of the channel and settled down to eat, watching its adversary warily. Its profile was majestic and breathtaking. Its opponent decided to leave it alone, and all was quiet again.

But not for long. The serenity had been broken. The brief commotion seemed somehow to galvanise other winged creatures. A common kingfisher flew by us and settled on a low branch that hung over the water; its bright blue body stood out against the green backdrop. It gave us a droll look and flew into the mangroves. A few metres away a couple of common redshanks were perched on the banks amidst a tangled mass of aerial roots. And so it went on, as we spotted more birds: egrets, cormorants, grey and purple herons, whimbrels, lapwings. Every few minutes, there was some bird vying for our attention. I was astonished that not only were the birds in abundance, but they were also easy to see. We even came across some relatively rare birds like the black-capped kingfisher, whose brilliant purple-blue feathers seemed all too surreal.

On second thought, I shouldn’t have been so surprised at the assortment of birds we saw. Mangroves are after all the favourite hunting grounds for a variety of birds, especially waders. The intertidal mudflats are a rich source of food, and support both native and domestic birds. The mangroves of the Godavari estuary span 320-sq-km, of this 235 sq km is protected under the Coringa Wildlife Sanctuary. It’s one of the healthiest mangrove systems in the country, supporting over 200 species of birds including over 20 threatened species. The critically endangered white-backed vulture, the long-billed or Indian vulture, the crested serpent eagle, scarlet minivet, white-bellied woodpecker, Indian roller, plovers, ibis all find solace here. In addition, nearly a hundred species of migratory birds favour Coringa. These included local migratory populations of painted storks, but also pelicans, Indian skimmers, Caspian terns, great knots…the list goes on. Also, for the first time in nearly three decades, a set of flamingos arrived here in the winter of 2018, an event local naturalists are hoping will recur each year.

It was a birdwatchers’ paradise. It was also interesting to observe the symbiotic relationship the birds enjoyed with the mangroves and surrounding communities. The birds have a habitat and food source among the mangroves, which in turn benefit from the creatures’ rich droppings.

I was also lucky to stumble upon an unusual local effort to protect the birds of Coringa. Earlier that morning, as I drove along Vakalapudi Road in North Kakinada, an industrial area that was surprisingly green, a strange sight stopped me in my tracks. I was at the road that leads to the entrance of Coromandel International, a company whose fertiliser factory occupies several acres of land including some open marshy areas. Just inside the entrance to the factory masses of tall trees caught my attention. The treetops were filled with painted storks and an abundance of nests. A cacophony of sounds filled the air: loud cackling was accompanied by regular swoosh sounds as the birds regularly took off in search of prey and came back with their finds. Neither the birds nor the steady stream of people entering and leaving the factory seemed to be bothered by the other.

Recognising the need to protect and provide a secure space for these birds, the establishment had hived off the area a few years ago, and turned it into a park called Bird Paradise. As I wandered around the park, along its waterbodies and extended marshy areas, PV Rao, the company’s Environment Health and Safety Manager, told me about some of their efforts. So invested was the company in the protection of their feathered friends, he said, that they abandoned the factory siren, whose piercing sound alarmed the birds. They also turned the roads within the premises as well as the highway in front of the factory into horn-free zones. A little enclosure within the park was also used by the local authorities as a rehab centre for injured animals and birds. “We work closely with the forest department and have created awareness among our employees. There are many who have become interested and taken up birdwatching, photography, and other activities. Besides, we also participate in a bird census and have separately got a snake survey done to determine what snake species we have on the premises,” he said.

Their efforts are well appreciated. When I met the Rajahmahendravaram Divisional Forest Officer (Wildlife) Anant Shankar, he said: “It is fortunate we have such cooperation from industry and local communities,” in conserving nature.

With dusk falling, there was frenzied activity in the sky as birds began to head to their roosts for the night. My head swivelled in multiple directions, and I craned my neck to get a glimpse of the many species that flew overhead or flitted from tree to tree. There were egrets, a couple of kingfishers, assorted waders, a few cormorants, some stilts.

Soon it was quiet again. In the semi-darkness, just before the inky blackness shrouded everything, the boat slowly coasted close to the bank along a tiny creek off the Korangi River. The trees were deep shadows, but in one particular stretch, muffled sounds of birds settling in for the night caught our attention. A gentle sweep of the torch revealed a jaw-dropping sight – hundreds of pied kingfishers, their trademark Dalmatian-like bodies, perched on a series of trees. This communal roost was an incredible, surreal sight. A few of them screeched, left their perches, and flew about, perhaps a bit miffed at being observed. But the others couldn’t be bothered; some lazily opened their eyes, cast a disinterested look at the source of light, and stayed put, realising we were no threat. It was a splendid end to my day that left a lasting impression and feelings of joy at the abundant birdlife in this little corner of India.