Raptor Friday: Crested Serpent Eagle

What's the fuss about the Serpent Eagle's crest? At first glance, it isn't even there. But wait and watch...

I first ran into the Crested Serpent Eagle (Spilornis cheela) in BR Hills on my first-ever trip with Beej, Sahastra and Sunita, and I wondered why those who named this bird thought it was crested. Why not Bulge-eyed Serpent Eagle? To me, the Changeable Hawk-eagle (Nisaetus cirrhatus) -- earlier known by its well-deserved name of Crested Hawk-Eagle -- ought to have benefited from any title that contained "crest".

Majestic in flight

This dark-plumaged forest eagle had no visible crest though even without it, the bird was captivating: the huge yellow eyes sported a don't-mess-with-me stare, with a proud hooked beak and heft to match. And the ease with which it zipped in and out through the forest trees! Juveniles, I understand, are paler to the extent of being almost white, and have a white and black pattern on the back of the head. When in flight, the underside of the flight feathers and tail feathers show distinct black-and-white bands.

It took me a few sightings to realize the name was not in vain. A few times I saw the hint of a crest when wind ruffled the head feathers, and I was lucky to capture one such moment from a distance.

Any doubts about the crest?

I have spotted Crested Serpent Eagles increasingly in the suburbs of Mysore after my first sightings, which were in dense forests. Once I saw one in a mango grove, taking off from a tree upon seeing us. Another time, a juvenile was being mobbed by crows near Infosys Mysore campus. Essentially, though, they are forest birds, keeping themselves to mid-canopy on the lookout for snakes, as their name suggests.

A juvenile mobbed by crows on the outskirts of Mysore

A raptor is handsome in a deadly way and the Crested Serpent Eagle is no exception. Handsome to us and deadly to snakes, and thankfully, pretty common in reasonably forested localities. Hope it stays that way...

Text and photos: Sandeep Somasekharan

All rights reserved

View other posts in our Raptor Friday series

Encounter - Changeable Hawk Eagle

What's so changeable about this forest eagle, you may ask. The answer has more than one context.

 

I cannot talk about the Changeable Hawk Eagle with laypersons without encountering that most pedestrian and wearying of questions: "What hawk eagle?" For your benefit, I say again: Changeable. One that is capable of change. It implies that the species is extremely variable in appearance. Adult birds may be dark or pale, and juveniles may be quite confusing. It used to be called the Crested Hawk Eagle earlier, and I wish they had stuck to that name. But to add to our confusion, some races, particularly those found in Southeast Asia, lack the crest. In Latin, it is Spizaetus cirrhatus cirrhatus or Spizaetus cirrhatus limnaetus, depending on the subspecies you are staring at. And if Pam Rasmussen must have her way, both subspecies are now separate species. A curious case of (S D) Ripley's Believe it or Not. Or some such. My first memorable encounter with this species (I usually exclude early childhood sightings because imagination overpowers memory and tends to fictionalise fact) was at the BRT Wildlife Sanctuary in March this year. A few turns before the K Gudi forest gate, Sandy (who took a record photograph then), spotted the raptor perched on a vantage bough overlooking the valley. On a more recent trip to BR Hills early this month, we saw two individuals who illustrated beyond doubt the predicament of baffled ornithologists (or taxonomists) who christened it. Both we saw up close. The first was a dark individual (above), and the second (below) had a plume of a crest and was paler. Probably a juvenile.  

The Changeable Hawk Eagle, like most forest eagles, is extremely agile. The second individual we saw shot off from its perch at great speed through a maze of forest trees and with immense power in its takeoff. Two weeks ago, I chanced upon this hunter at work. Driving back from Meghamalai, my car reached a bend in the road where forest shared an indistinct boundary with tea plantation. In a glade, I saw a hare cleaning its whiskers. Overhead, a shape darted out of the trees. The hare, startled by the sound of our engine, bolted. The eagle missed and, shrieking, cut a jagged path across the tea garden, then disappeared into the thicket. Did it strike or did it miss? I couldn't stay to find out. Photographs: © Sandeep Somashekaran. All rights reserved