Bejewelled: On the Trail of the Himalayan Monal in Uttarakhand

In early November 2022, I went to Uttarakhand in search of its state bird, the Himalayan monal (Lophophorus impejanus), a gorgeous high-altitude pheasant. The male resembles a chicken that accidentally fell into a bucket of rainbows. The body, head, and decorative headpiece (crest) made of feathers, shimmer with iridescent blues and greens and the tail and neck gleam with reds, yellows, and oranges.

My search for the bird began around Munsiyari, in northeastern Uttarakhand, a region that sits quaintly across from the snowy Panchachuli peaks of the Himalayas. The villages and trails around these parts range between 2,200 and 3,700 m — the ideal space to look for this bird, found only at altitudes above 2,400 m of this Himalayan region (though they may come as low as 2,000 m in winter). The native range of the monal covers Himalayan regions stretching from Afghanistan via Pakistan, India, and Bhutan to Yunnan, China. In India, the bird occurs in Jammu & Kashmir, Himachal Pradesh, Uttarakhand, West Bengal, Sikkim, and Arunachal Pradesh.  

My companion for this journey was Jagdish, a local bird guide who has seen his fair share of monals and dealt with his fair share of ecotourists hopeful of seeing a monal. On our first day looking for the monal, we were joined by Ramnarayan, an ecologist who has made Sarmoli his home, and Raju, a naturalist with telescopes for eyes. We began our search on a main road beside Betuli Dhar, a gorgeous ridge with patches of rhododendron and pine amidst a mountainside covered generously by yellow grasses. It had been raining steadily since the night before, and the grassland looked soaked and unmoving. The stony mountain beneath the grass revealed rocky boulders, babbling brooks, and sheer cliffs. A perfect setting to look for monals since they typically search for food amid these high-altitude grasses. The omnivorous birds scratch the ground to unearth food like insects and tubers. They also feed on berries and seeds.

As we trudged in the rain and mist, we saw many alpine accentors scanning the grassland. We watched a lone Himalayan griffon perched high on a tree, waiting for the rain to pass. At one point on the road, a small waterfall swollen with rain lured us with the prospect of seeing a spotted forktail, a beautiful monochromatic bird. While we scanned the waterfall, Raju spotted a snow pigeon high up in the grasses. Near it, a relatively larger bird scuffled through the grasses. It was a female monal.

The beauty of the colourful male monal is undisputed. However, most descriptions of the female monal use words like “dull” or “drab”. For me, the female monal is gorgeous too. Her brown and black colours and patterns blend seamlessly with the surrounding landscape, but her form stands out. The white feathers that peek out from above her tailfeather, and the ones that cover her throat, look like freshly fallen snow. Her crest is a discrete little woody brown tuft. Finally, the streak of sky blue that runs around her eyes is riveting. The female monals’ colouring is a common adaptation in female birds to evade predators by remaining inconspicuous. The camouflage is particularly helpful during nesting. A female monal scratches a makeshift egg cradle into the ground and lays 3-5 eggs that she incubates for close to a month. During this vulnerable time, her coat allows her to remain reasonably undetected from predators like foxes, jackals, and leopards. While this may not indicate the norm, a study entitled “Ecology and Conservation Status of the Pheasants of Great Himalayan National Park, Western Himalaya” observed that several female monals formed pair bonds with males who stayed close by to protect the nest. I imagine the male dazzling potential attackers until they are unconscious from overdosing on his ethereal colours.

After sharing a cathartic morning with the female monal, we stopped at a small eatery for a short break. Nearly everyone at the establishment claimed they saw a male monal every other day in their backyards. I wondered about all the life forms in my backyard that I take for granted. After our break, we continued birding in a hailstorm, seeing a diversity of incredible birds like steppe eagles, Eurasian sparrowhawks, and a flock of around 1,000 plain mountain finches. But the male monal eluded us that day.

The following day, Jagdish and I climbed up to Khaliya Top, a 3,700-m-high snowy peak behind Sarmoli village. Halfway up, we stopped at a stream to watch a tiny Eurasian wren hunt for insects. While watching it weave in and out of rock crevices, I noticed a dark blob moving in the dense thicket of rhododendrons and grasses. Jagdish remained committed to the wren while I pursued the mysterious object. After a few minutes of crawling, I stopped in my tracks — the late morning sun was falling directly on a male monal about 10 m away. Pictures of this bird do little to prepare you for the sight in person. It took me a few minutes to mentally process all the colours I could see. The monal used its large feet and bill to dig and scratch the ground and pecked persistently in search of food. I suddenly remembered that this walking medley of colours was a high-altitude relative of chickens and peacocks — all three are pheasants (family: Phasianidae). The male monal is roughly 70 cm tall. Its feathers are like an artist’s rendition of a peacock’s colours on an enormous chicken. Iridescent blues and greens dominate, with the occasional fiery orange peeking through.

Over the next few days, we saw many monals, including a lone male foraging in a snowy patch close to Khaliya peak. We saw a male perched on a boulder, looking out at the landscape. To me, it seemed like an excellent way for him to keep a watchful eye on his gang. We listened as monals called out; their two-note whistles echoed around us in the pine forests and rhododendron patches. Just before and during the breeding season, male monals may call from dawn to late morning. When we accidentally stumbled upon a group of monals, they let out alarm calls that sounded like staggered high-pitch whistles.

The birds sometimes take off from their rocky perch and glide short distances into the valley. With their stout frames, monals (like the rest of the pheasant family) are not equipped with wings large enough to sustain long flights. The wings generate enough lift for the bird to make a quick getaway from potential predators and allow them to fly a few hundred feet.

Through my time in Munsiyari, we saw many female monals foraging amidst grasslands, their unmistakable silhouettes exploring mountain ridges. On our last morning, walking the trail to Thamri Kund, we saw over 20 monals. I left Munsiyari with a newfound appreciation for the plumage of female birds and nature’s ability to tastefully blend every colour in the visible spectrum into one bird.