Encounter: Indian Silverbill

If coochicooable was a word, it would fit the Indian Silverbill


My first memories of fellow Ogre Sahastra are tied to a photograph he posted in the Infosys photography club. The first was of a group of tiny, brown birds with beautiful conical beaks shining like metal, perched on a plant reduced to sticks by harsh summer. And the bird's name sounded like a wind chime tinkling.


Indian Silverbill.

If 'coochicooable' was a word, it would fit the Indian Silverbill

Immediately, I was intrigued by the Indian Silverbill or White-throated Munia (Euodice malabarica) and recognized it the moment I saw it in Mysore. The birds, always in a flock, perched on tall grass stalks, flitting from one to another, stealing an occasional private moment to plant tiny kisses on each other.

The Indian Silverbill blends into its surroundings thanks to its dull plumage

Since then I have seen them everywhere in small groups, feeding on tiny seeds of grass in scrublands. Often, their small size renders them invisible -- they are even smaller than sparrows -- and when you step into the grass, you can see ten or twenty suddenly take flight, making soft cheeping noises.

The birds huddle close and whisper gossip

At times they huddle together on a single stalk perhaps to share body heat in a cold breeze, or face each other and peer at something far beyond, their tiny eyes tinkling.

Text and photos by Sandeep Somasekharan

Read more posts in our Encounter series

Wordless Wednesday - The gorilla's kiss

Raptor Friday - The Common Kestrel

The Common Kestrel (Falco tinnunculus) is a migratory falcon that visits the subcontinent in winter; though the bird is resident in the Himalayas and to a smaller extent in the Western Ghats. My first sighting was of a female, beyond the hills of Ooty, as she hovered along the slopes trying to locate her prey. Since then, every year I have had at least one close encounter with this fascinating falcon, the closest being in March 2009 when a female allowed me to stay within a few metres for about half an hour.

The female, identified by the overall barring and black moustachial stripes. As in the case of many raptors, females are larger than males 

Identifying the Common Kestrel is simple as the bird has unique features. Compared with the similar-looking Lesser Kestrel, this bird has two moustachial drop stripes running down from the eyes and, as the name suggests, it is larger. The male has a blue-grey head and is less heavily barred than the female. The yellow ring around the large eyes make the bird appear quite handsome.

The handsome male is distinguishable by the grey head and tail feathers and dark chestnut upperparts speckled with black

While hunting the kestrel spreads the tail like a Black Kite and flaps its wings, hovering continuously in one spot, appearing to be almost stationary as it tries to locate its prey in grasslands and scrublands. Having zoned in on a quarry, this little raptor then swoops down upon it.

A kestrel hovers as it scans the ground for prey

The kestrel's prey includes rodents, insects, reptiles, amphibians and smaller birds. Though it is classified as LC (Least Concern) on the IUCN Red List, its range may be threatened due to extensive habitat loss as grasslands and scrublands are converted to residential areas and for agriculture.

Raptor Friday - Tawny Eagle

The name has a definite ring, doesn't it? So much that a friend, a newbie birder who had just come down to bird with me Mysore, went back and told his friends that he had a good sighting of a 'Tommy Eagle'.


The Tawny Eagle (Aquila rapax) was the first species of eagle that I saw since I began birding. I remember my friend looking at my photo and saying, "It is a Black Kite." 


I was positive it wasn't -- the head was flat, the eyes fiercer, and the bird was definitely larger than a kite. The cere (the fleshy yellow skin around the beak) extended below the eye. I was proven right.

A dark morph adult lifts off 

Tawny eagles exhibit two morphs. The juveniles occur often in a pale morph, and are at times larger than the parents thanks to the healthy supply of food with which they are provided. In time, as the birds age, the plumage darkens. The non-migratory Tawny Eagle can be distinguished in the field from the wintering Steppe Eagle (Aquila nipalensis), with which it was once believed to be conspecific, by the cere which extends beyond the eye, and by the oval nostrils.

A juvenile, in the distinctive pale morph

They nests, made of twigs, are built in tall trees. The bird generally lays two eggs. The mating display is fascinating -- the courting birds clasp claws and tumble a long way down. Tawny Eagles are scrubland birds that scavenge on carrion as well as pick up live prey including birds, reptiles, insects, small mammals and poultry. 


Text and photos by Sandeep Somasekharan

Raptor Friday - Raiders of the honeycomb

Until five years ago, every bird that soared was an "eagle". I had just started birding and I don't know how many times until then I had let pass this intriguing bird as an eagle. And by "eagle" I would have meant the ubiquitous Black Kite or Pariah Kite (Milvus migrans).

The high flying male. Note the barred undersides of the wings and tail, and the small head and slender neck

I have spotted the Oriental Honey Buzzard (Pernis ptilorhynchus) in a variety of habitats -- flying high over scrublands, in eucalyptus plantations, over my office campus, and in dense forests. One of my friends was lucky to see one perched on his compound wall. 


Its name, of course, comes from its habit of pursuing its favourite diet, the larvae of honey bees and wasps, which it catches by attacking honeycombs. In my mother-tongue, Malayalam, the bird is known as thenkothichi -- literally, she who is greedy for honey. Evidently, those who named it mistook (and romanticised) the raids on the honeycombs as attempts to find honey.

Female perched. The yellow eye and the dark brown plumage are distinctive

The best way to identify the bird is by the shape of its head. Unlike the rounded and large head of a kite and the flat head of an eagle, the honey buzzard's head is slender -- more or less similar to a pigeon's -- with a thin neck. In flight, the honey buzzard's neck and head stick out at right angles to the outspread wings, and in most cases the six primaries (flight feathers at the edges of the wings) are fanned out like open fingers.

Male perched. Note the red eye, pigeon-like head and banded tail

The male has red eyes and a rather featureless blue-grey head, while the female has yellow eyes and brown plumage. Apart from feeding on the larvae of bees and wasps, the Oriental Honey Buzzard also preys on other insects and the commonly seen garden lizards (Calotes versicolor).

Ok, you have seen enough!

Honey buzzards need large trees both for nesting as well as to host honeycombs, their primary source of food. The rapid advent of urbanisation, which affects almost every species of bird, has also led to a marked decline in the habitat available to the honey buzzard. 

Mysore's scrublands - Dwindling paradise

To a layperson, scrublands connote territory that is laid to waste. Dead, deserted places to stay away from. But that impression deserves to be tested. Scrublands, in fact, are dry, open spaces with a thin layer of surface grass, occasional shrubs and small, hardy trees such as acacias. Visit one such landscape after a shower, and the green grass has a carpeted appearance. A few months later, everything turns golden-yellow and then brown. But the terrain still looks deserted and inhospitable, until you stop for a while and look keenly around you. Prepare to be surprised by the abundance of life. 

Paddyfield pipits are inconspicuous to the inattentive visitor to a scrubland

Larks rise up with a series of whistles and float down on outspread wings. Flocks of pipits erupt like clouds of undulating dust. Mornings and evenings, grey francolins rend the air with crescendos of “katri chor …katri chor”. And if you make yourself invisible, you can see them emerge and dawdle about. Your slightest movement is enough to make them scamper away, shaking their heavy posteriors, and take cover.

A Grey Francolin proclaims its territory

A Common Pierrot just after rains that turned the grasslands lush green

Calotes lizards soak up the sun, sitting on rocks with their heads raised. Spotting them, Black-shouldered Kites, Shikras and Short-toed Snake Eagles swoop down for the kill. A few steps on the grass disturb tiny blues (Lycaenidae butterflies) which take off and settle down a few paces away.


Black ibises dig their curved bills deep into the earth, looking for grubs, worms and insects. Quails wait until you almost step on them before whirring up in a startling escape flight. Winter beckons harriers, kestrels and Booted Eagles to take refuge in these habitats, as they take flight from the cold of the northern territories. Jackals, foxes and hares can be spotted, often with stray dogs in hot pursuit.

A female kestrel keeps a lookout for prey movements

Outside Mysore's Ring Road, there used to be a continuous, uninterrupted belt of scrublands. These have slowly started getting converted to residential layouts. Earthmovers scour the soil and roads are laid. Electric poles are erected. Drains are dug. And it's not long before the buildings come up. 

An excavator scours off the scrublands as cement mixers get busy

Still, some life persists amidst this chaos, only to be driven further away. At times they are cornered from all directions with no place to go. Each year, the number of birds seen in these scrub lands has declined. So have the scrublands themselves.

The sight says it all

Next year, maybe the birds coming this side from the north might be in for a rude surprise… It really seems to be sunset time for Mysore's scrublands.

Moments away from blackout?

Text and photographs by Sandeep Somasekharan