Khaliya Top: A Bird’s-eye View of Birds

As the sun rose over the Panchachuli Himalayas, golden rays of light began to reveal details in the landscape to me. My vantage point for this view was Zero Point, the peak of Khaliya Top, the highest point (~3,700 m above sea level) in Uttarakhand’s Munsiyari region. To the north and east was a seemingly endless chain of snow-covered Himalayan mountains. The icy cold breeze from the mountains blew a thick blanket of snow on the northern face of Khaliya. To the south and west, the scene was infinite rolling meadows and forested mountaintops stretching to the horizon. On this relatively warmer side, vast beds of grass carpeted Khaliya. The grasses gleamed gold in the light of dawn, and I admit to humming Sting’s “Fields of Gold”. The surreal views from this dizzying altitude presented interesting perspectives of both landscapes and the lives that inhabit them. What seemed like a river raging through a valley below turned out to be clouds passing through a mountain range. I had to look downwards to see soaring eagles and vultures, unlike nearly every other birding endeavour where I’ve had to crane my neck upwards.

The bird action began with a Eurasian kestrel (Falco tinnunculus) hovering flawlessly over a spot on the grassland. The stationary hover displays remarkable agility and intelligence, considering the physics involved. The bird achieves a stationary position mid-air by flying at a speed that perfectly matches the wind blowing against it in the opposite direction. The forward motion generated by the bird cancels the force of the wind pushing it in the opposite direction. Leveraging inertia and casually demonstrating relativity, the Eurasian kestrel may be a small bird (about 30 cm), but it is an inspiring hunter to watch. Despite its size, this formidable predator hunts a wide selection of animals in the area — lizards, insects, birds, and even small mammals. I wondered how much quicker modern science may have advanced if Newton had spent time watching kestrels instead of apples falling from trees. My thoughts were interrupted by two large shadows gliding over the grassland.

Little prepares you for an up-close encounter with golden eagles (Aquila chrysaetos). Their size and calm confidence are intimidating. The two massive predators (golden eagles have seven-foot wingspans) circled away from Khaliya and flew north towards the mountains. Like many other soaring birds, golden eagles wait for the sun to heat the ground and the air above it. The warm air rises in spiralling wind currents (thermals) that the birds ascend.

With the warmth permeating the landscape, flocks of vultures took to the skies. I spent nearly 30 minutes watching the tops of gliding vultures. Himalayan griffons (Gyps himalayensis) gracefully manoeuvred their massive frames to catch the spiralling current of rising air. These magnificent birds weigh ~12 kg and have wingspans up to 10 feet. Consequently, the bird cannot constantly flap its wings to stay in flight and relies heavily on thermal updrafts of wind to carry it upwards. A short while later, bearded vultures (Gypaetus barbatus) joined the griffons, and the two groups of gliders filled the sky. The long tails of the bearded vultures readily distinguished them from the griffons. Both vultures are critical actors of this high-altitude ecosystem — the Himalayan griffon feeds on the carcasses of animals, and the bearded vulture feeds almost exclusively on the bones of dead animals. These obligate scavengers break down dead animals into nutrients. Their incredible digestive systems also break down harmful microorganisms found in rotting flesh. Even though there is no overlap in their dietary habits, a few bearded vultures routinely appeared to be bullying the griffons mid-air. The bearded vultures maintained a relatively lower height than the griffons, who continued to spiral upwards until they were high enough for us to see their undersides.

As the daylight got harsher, it was time to look for birds dotting the landscape. On the snowy northern face of Khaliya, I watched a lone male Himalayan monal (Lophophorus impejanus) surveying the ground for food. The vividly coloured pheasant looked like a shimmering dot in the distance. A few hundred metres away from it, a group of less conspicuous dots were on the move. A bevy of snowcocks or snowfowls was making its way up the mountain. These pheasants are the opposite of the male monal in the colour department — their coats blending seamlessly with their snowy-grassy environment. The snowfowl disappeared over the ridge, and a sizeable flock of red-billed choughs (Pyrrhocorax pyrrhocorax) swarmed in from the north. Curiously, observing the arriving choughs with us was the Eurasian kestrel from earlier that morning — though I suspected the kestrel had more sinister objectives than us. Perched patiently on a rock, it waited for the flock to fly close enough to strike. As the choughs rounded the hill and came within a hundred metres of the kestrel, it launched a magnificent dive. The nearly teardrop-shaped bird descended rapidly and gripped a chough by the neck. In a split second, the chough scrambled, freed itself from the kestrel’s claws and flew away with an urgency that comes from a near-death experience.

A diversity of life occupies the snowy patches, grassy meadows, and rocky crevices around the peak at Khaliya. Footprints in the snow suggested a Himalayan red fox (Vulpes vulpes) had used the trail I was following. I wondered if the predacious golden eagles of Khaliya might be so adept at hunting that they would track the red fox down using its pugmarks in the snow. Also ubiquitous around the snow were alpine accentors busy searching the rocks for insects to feed on. The small birds were present at nearly every altitude in the Munsiyari region (from around 2,300-3,700 m). They are hardy creatures found as high as 8,000 m on Mount Everest. Elsewhere on Khaliya, along cold but unfrozen mountain streams, Eurasian wrens flitted in and out of sight. On my way down from Khaliya, I watched a Himalayan pika exploring a small patch of grass. Pikas are small tailless mammals of the rabbit family and one of the most adorable animals on Earth. With tiny fur pads on their paws and thick coats, they navigate the snowscapes around their high-altitude homes, searching for wildflowers and grasses. And once again, the Eurasian kestrel may share my keen interest in this animal for very different reasons. I left Khaliya with a deep sense of gratitude for the cosmic accident of life.