Happy Campers: Life Lessons from the Wagtails of India

Many years ago, one of the first signs that winter was approaching for me was the sudden arrival of a pair of prosperous-looking white wagtails (Motacilla alba). They would saunter up and down the lawns like a pair of realtors, wagging their tails up and down in approval. I haven’t seen them for several years now and wonder what became of them. These cheerful-looking birds (around 19 cm), dressed in ash grey, white, and black, are variably plumaged in these shades. In fact, the entire wagtail clan — of which we have six species in India — are all clad in various confusing shades of black, white, sulphur yellow, and ash grey and have probably caused many an argument among birders trying to pin their identification down. This confusion is especially so in winter when most of them visit the Indian subcontinent and seem all too casual about how they dress. Worldwide, there are around 70 species in this family (Motacillidae), which includes pipits and longclaws.

Wagtails spend their summers along streams and rivers in the hills and mountains, breeding in the Himalayas and Western Siberia. They winter along waterbodies, lawns, and fallow land over the plains of the subcontinent. They spurt along the ground, picking up insects, and compete fiercely for territory when taking a break on their migratory journeys. Salim Ali describes how two rivals may space themselves 30 cm apart and march up and down a metre each way in the same or opposite directions, doing a smart about-turn at the end of their patrol. A single bird may spring vertically above as if challenging or daring its rival to a joust – which usually doesn’t take place!

The largest of the clan is the white-browed (or large pied) wagtail (Motacilla maderaspatensis). Around 21 cm long, it is also dressed in black and white, with a prominent white supercilium (eyebrow area). It loves hanging around in pairs along riverbanks (on the prow of docked boats), pools, lakes, and canals, though they’re also often seen around agricultural land, gardens, and parks. A confirmed resident (except in parts of the Northeast), with a cheerful whistling song and distinctive “che-zat” call, it will establish its substantial mansion made of roots and grass enveloped in a neat cup, near water or a hollow near the riverbank or under a bridge, raising its family between March and October. While courting, Salim Ali mentions how the gentleman suitor hovers low over the ground, singing his heart out, feathers all fluffed out, before landing in front of lady love with wings raised above his back, the tips quivering with emotion, and approaches her with “stiff mincing” steps. She will respond by crouching — her wings open at the “armpits” like a baby bird begging for a titbit. The honeymoon follows forthwith, with the male’s wings still raised. Another ornithologist, Kirkpatrick, mentions that after the honeymoon, the suitor will move away a little, spring upward in the air for a metre, on a single wingbeat, before parachuting down like a “puffball” his wings spread out, rump and belly fluffed out, tail outspread over his back legs dangling stiffly, all the while singing lustily. As soon as he touches down, the honeymoon encore takes place.

We come now to the maddening collection of yellow, grey, white, and black species, which probably drives birders nuts, especially in winter — when their markings are particularly confusing. The citrine wagtail (Motacilla citreola, 19 cm), aka the yellow-headed or yellow-hooded wagtail, winters in the subcontinent. While behaving like a typical wagtail, it is more sedate and wags its tail with less enthusiasm than the white wagtail. Citrine wagtails love feeding gregariously in winter and prefer waterside habitats more than other wagtails. They spend their summers in wet grasslands in the Himalayas, on alpine slopes, below glaciers, and their winters around marshes, lakes, tanks, and wet fields. Between May and August, they breed in Baluchistan, Pakistan, and the Himalayas.

The yellow wagtail (Motacilla flava, 18 cm) takes the cake for its variable plumage, coming in shades of olive green and yellow. It sticks around grazing cattle near damp pastures, snapping up insects disturbed by the animals. It breeds in the Himalayas and spreads out over the subcontinent in winter. To thoroughly confuse everyone, there are various models (seven according to one source, more according to Salim Ali), including the grey-headed, blue-headed, green-headed, black-backed, yellow-headed etc.

The forest wagtail (Dendroanthus indicus; 18 cm) lives up to its name and spends its time wandering sedately along forest tracks, glades, paths, well-shaded coffee and cardamom plantations, feeding on insects, molluscs, snails, and worms. It wags its tail from side to side rather than up and down like the rest of the clan. More arboreal than other wagtails, it breeds in May in Assam and spends the winter over the subcontinent.

Finally, we have the grey wagtail (Motacilla cinerea aka Motacilla capsica; 19 cm.), which sports a much longer tail than its cousins, something you can cotton on to while it is in flight. It has a white supercilium, too, and is washed in sulphur yellow, ash grey, and darkish brown. Though preferring singledom, it may roost in flocks of up to 50 birds in winter. An incessant tail wagger, it will hop and skip along river rocks and in the shallows and fly in leaps and bounds. It breeds between April and July in Baluchistan, Pakistan and the Himalayas, and spends its winters throughout the subcontinent except in parts of the Northeast.

  

There’s something about wagtails that cheers you up and makes you smile whenever you encounter them. Perhaps it’s all the tail wagging which makes them appear happy and optimistic about life in general. Birders may argue vociferously about whether a particular individual belongs to this species or that (especially in winter), but they don’t seem to mind one jot if they are misidentified. They go about their business, picking up insects and worms, hopping over river rocks, squeaking cheerfully, and wagging their tails in approval of life in general. There is, I think, a lesson for us all in that.