A strange, indescribable drumming sound in the distance drew our attention. When I asked the boatman about it, he casually replied, “Sahib, it’s from the tourist boats. Look over there, beyond the long, narrow island.” Intrigued, I asked, “Why are there so many boats?” His response brought to light the reality of the booming Irrawaddy dolphin tourism industry in Chilika Lagoon.
I was accompanying the renowned wildlife photographer Dhritiman Mukherjee, and we were travelling in the boat of Lipu, his trusted aide in Chilika. After spending the night at the Satapada Guest House, we set off early (6 am) to reach the jetty. Lipu was already waiting, ready to take us to the Irrawaddy dolphin (Orcaella brevirostris) habitat before the commercial ferries shattered the morning’s tranquillity. It was a crisp winter morning, January 7, 2025, and a slight chill lingered in the air. Within just one nautical mile (1.85 km), we spotted our first Irrawaddy dolphin. Though it wasn’t a “lifer” (first sighting) for me — I had previously seen them near the renowned Nalbana Island Bird Sanctuary in Chilika — every encounter with these enigmatic aquatic creatures remains unforgettable.
Irrawaddy dolphins thrive in coastal, estuarine, and freshwater ecosystems across South and Southeast Asia — in India, Bangladesh, Myanmar, Cambodia and the Philippines. In India, they are found only in Odisha’s Chilika Lagoon and the Sundarbans. Chilika, in fact, supports the largest population of these dolphins in India. They feed on fish, squid and octopus. In several places these intelligent mammals have been observed using a range of fishing tactics, including blowing bubbles, pushing prey towards shallow waters, and even cooperatively herding fish into the nets of local fishers. Unfortunately, due to habitat loss, pollution and dynamite fishing, the species has been declared Endangered by the IUCN.
Dhritiman, having spent years observing and photographing Irrawaddy dolphins, has an exceptional understanding of their behaviour. While he is widely celebrated as one of the finest wildlife photographers, few recognise that he is also a keen naturalist and meticulous observer. His patience in studying his subjects for hours or even days before capturing them is the secret behind his striking natural images.






In Chilika, Irrawaddy dolphins forage for fish — much of this involves herding fish towards fixed stake nets set up by local fishers. These nets act as barriers that the dolphins use to trap and catch fish more efficiently. Fishers also benefit since they manage to catch a larger bounty.
Researchers have observed similar behaviour in their namesake river, Myanmar’s Ayeyarwady (Irrawaddy), where Irrawaddy dolphins engage in cooperative fishing with local fishermen. They herd fish toward the nets, sometimes even signalling to the fishermen by splashing their tails or bobbing their heads to indicate the perfect moment to cast their nets. In return, the dolphins feed on the escaping or stunned fish.


Conducting a dolphin population census is difficult. One cannot predict where and when a dolphin will surface nor distinguish whether the same individual is appearing again or a different one. Nevertheless, the Odisha Forest Department conducts an annual Irrawaddy dolphin survey with the help of staff and volunteers. In the most recent census in the state, conducted from January 27-29, 2025, approximately 190 Irrawaddy dolphins were recorded.
Dipani Sutaria, Adjunct Research Fellow, School of Earth and Environmental Sciences, James Cook University, Townsville, Queensland, Australia, has extensively studied Chilika’s Irrawaddy dolphins and the dolphin-watching industry.

Dolphins are an intriguing group of aquatic animals. Yet, witnessing the booming, often unregulated dolphin tourism in Chilika reminded me of the unchecked tiger tourism in some of our reserves. Except that instead of safari jeeps, we have boats in Chilika, and when an Irrawaddy dolphin is spotted, the frenzy is just as chaotic.
Dhritiman was documenting the dolphins’ natural behaviour — from foraging to playful interactions — using a drone camera hovering 10–15 metres above the water while our boat maintained a respectful distance of 150–250 metres away. This experience left me pondering: Can we establish strict protocols for tourists, boat operators, photographers, and visitors to ensure these intelligent, sentient creatures can live undisturbed? Surely, they deserve a peaceful existence in their own waters?