Malabar Whistling Thrush: The Lonely Schoolboy

My feet set off a rippling motion as I enter the forest stream. The soft gurgling of the water mingles with the crik-crik-crik of the tiny night frogs that hop frantically out of my path. A hesitant hooting call has me twisting my neck to spot its owner — a green imperial pigeon ruffling its feathers on a Gymnacranthera tree. The canopy towers far above me, a jaunty troop of grey langurs bounding from branch to branch, creating a ruckus. A Malabar giant squirrel shrieks like a banshee, startling a flock of Malabar parakeets into flight.

That’s when I notice the blue-black bird perched on a low branch, observing me with a cocked head. It seems to clear its throat and emit an eerie whistle. The tune is melodic, yet sombre, almost like a plea. Up and down, haunting yet alluring, the Malabar whistling thrush sings as the entire forest falls silent, listening to its musical cry. Even the langurs are still, babies clinging to their mother’s fur.

Known as the whistling schoolboy, the Malabar whistling thrush (Myophonus horsfieldii) is widespread in the Western Ghats, though I have seen it in the Myristica swamps, the mysterious dark forests of the Western Ghats, where streams gurgle, frogs croak, and birdsong fills the air. With glossy blue-black feathers and a voice that has a distinctly human quality, this thrush forages alongside streambeds and on the forest floor. The blue sheen of its feathers appears only in ultraviolet light, making this medium-sized bird nearly invisible when on the forest floor. From a distance, it looks much like the humble crow, but around half its size. 

First Encounters

I first made acquaintance with the whistling schoolboy in the depths of Chaare, a Myristica swamp near the Aghanashini River in Uttara Kannada, Karnataka. As I slowly moved up the forest stream, searching the water for amphibians and odonates, the lonely call of the thrush wove a spell over the forest. Like a melody of old, it liltingly rose and fell, sometimes lamenting, sometimes alluring, sometimes playful.

I pursed up my lips to respond to its song. The whistling thrush is comparatively easy to mimic, and as I responded to its call, the thrush fell silent, observing me with a cocked head. The langurs shifted their attention to me, possibly wondering about the strange new thrush in Chaare. After I finished my sonnet, the thrush seemed to swell indignantly. It responded, this time slightly more belligerently, but its dulcet tune was still delectable to my ears. I pursed my lips and responded in kind, and the thrush hopped on its branch in agitation. It clicked its beak and flapped off, disappearing into the dark swamp forest. 

Ways of Life

This large thrush feeds primarily on snails, small frogs, insects, and occasionally dabbles in vegetarian cuisine. Once, in Korse, another well-hidden Myristica swamp, I came across a thrush busy trying to flip over a scuttling crab. Immediately, I squatted down to watch as the whistling thrush hopped in frustration, using its curved beak to jab at the unrelenting crab. The crab, sensing its pursuer’s short temper, tried to make a beeline for the stream, but the thrush suddenly secured a hold, raised the unfortunate crab a few centimetres into the air and slammed it down with brute force against the rocks below. The crab clicked its pincers frantically, but it was all over in a few moments, and the whistling schoolboy cocked its head triumphantly, let out a cry, and hauled its meal away into the underbrush.

This tidy bird is something of a cleanliness freak and can frequently be sighted dipping and splashing in bodies of water. I have watched the Malabar whistling thrush engage in the Zen art of forest bathing in several swamps. One memorable day, I had a timely encounter with a thrush merrily splashing about among the tangled knee roots in a clear pool beneath a Myristica tree. When I paused and felt about for my camera, the thrush glanced at me, flared its tail feathers, and jauntily continued its morning bath, least concerned by my presence, although clearly aware of my every breath.  

A vocal member of the forest community, the whistling thrush is often harder to spot than it is to hear. It lurks above well-shaded forest streams, perching on branches just out of harm’s way, its beady eyes boldly assessing newcomers to its territory. This thrush is territorial, and especially during the breeding season (which coincides with the Southwest monsoon), competition for mates can lead to individuals chasing away others of the same species from their territory. Although spotting territorial squabbles is a bit difficult — one must be at the right place at the right time, as is often the case in ecological studies — the thrush’s piercing alarm call, which is a single fluting note, can easily be heard from the forest’s edge as it chases away an intruder or escapes from harm’s way.

I have not had the joy of sighting newly hatched whistling thrush chicks, but they are typically born in July and soon develop long black feathers along their tiny bodies. The skin is nearly black at birth, allowing them to camouflage nicely in the nests built by their parents in dark rocky crevices and tree holes. Within a month or two, the young are busy testing out their wings and trying to fly. Their downy feathers are soon replaced by glossy blue-black plumage, with the chick’s head feathers the last to be shed. The blue tint appears gradually, suffusing the jet-black monotony of the adult bird.

   

A forest dweller

Fond of water, the Malabar whistling thrush frequents forest pools and wetlands. The species has been recorded in subtropical and tropical montane moist forests, permanent inland wetlands including streams and waterfall habitats, plantations of arecanut (betelnut) and coffee, and even semi-urban spaces and gardens along the entire length of the Western Ghats. It’s also found in the drier forests of Chhattisgarh and western Maharashtra on occasion. I have mostly encountered individuals in wet evergreen, moist deciduous, and semi-evergreen forests, as well as on the fringes of arecanut plantations in Uttara Kannada district and other forests of the central and southern Western Ghats. Endemic to India, this blue-black thrush’s population is on the decline due to threats to its forest habitat. Within its mapped range, tree cover has declined by nearly 4 per cent over three decades, according to the Global Forest Watch 2022 report, a decline that may negatively impact the species. While there has been little research on the species and its ecology, birders and ornithologists describe it as fairly common throughout the Western Ghats.

I have encountered the Malabar whistling thrush on various occasions, on multiple visits to Chaare and in other swamps. This mellifluous bird has always heralded my forays into the evergreen forests of the Western Ghats, from the wild coffee plantations fringing Bhadra Tiger Reserve to the off-road trails in Kalakad-Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve and the gorgeous swamp forests of Uttara Kannada. With its tuneful welcome, this adroit little thrush never fails to brighten the smile on my face.