Life Around a Dry Hoskote Lake

Hoskote looked very different this time.

The migratory season is over, the lake has dried up completely, and most of the waterbirds have either returned or moved on to better wetlands. Now, Hoskote waits quietly for the pre monsoon or monsoon showers to bring the lake back to life again.

Even without the usual flocks of waterbirds, the morning was far from empty. The resident birds were already preparing for the rainy season ahead. Baya Weavers were busy building their intricate nests, turning dry grass into little hanging masterpieces, while a few familiar faces around the lake added colour to the quiet summer landscape.

Here’s a small photo story from a quiet morning at Hoskote.

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I was a little late for the perfect sunrise shot, but Hoskote still managed to put on a beautiful morning show.

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The stars of the morning were undoubtedly the male Baya Weavers. Busy and restless, they worked tirelessly on their intricate hanging nests, preparing well ahead of the rains.

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A Red whiskered Bulbul posed briefly in the morning light, adding a splash of colour and a familiar cheerful presence.

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The male Baya Weaver put on quite a show, calling and fluttering around the unfinished nest as visiting females inspected his work before giving their approval.

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A Rose ringed Parakeet paused briefly before disappearing in its usual noisy style.

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I spent a long time simply watching these meticulous little builders, weaving, inspecting, calling, and endlessly fine tuning their hanging homes.

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One ambitious little architect arrived with his first strand of grass. He would probably make hundreds of trips, carrying strand after strand, nearly 500 flights in all, before the nest was finally complete.

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A Cattle Egret stood quietly in the soft morning light, looking unusually elegant in its breeding colours.

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A Shikra watched silently from the thorny branches, alert and perfectly hidden.

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An Oriental Magpie Robin paused on a wire, framed against the encroaching city in the background.

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This was the first time in many years that I had seen Hoskote Lake completely dry. The harsh summer had taken its toll, leaving behind open grasslands and cracked earth where water once stretched across the horizon. But with the monsoon only weeks away, the lake would soon begin filling up again, starting another cycle of life.

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Another first for me at Hoskote was this beautiful Green Vine Snake. I have come across keelbacks here quite often, but spotting this slender little hunter so perfectly blended into the branches was a completely new experience.

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Two Indian Rollers added their usual splash of impossible blues, sitting calmly on old tree stumps like little pieces of the sky had come down to rest.

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The last bird of the day was a Jacobin Cuckoo, the much loved harbinger of the monsoon. Somehow, it felt like a promise that the rains were not too far away.

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Hoskote may be dry for now, but the rains will soon bring the lake back to life again. Until then, the weavers, cuckoos, rollers, and countless other residents will quietly keep the story going.

Do share your thoughts!

Pearl Valley: A Long Time Coming

Some trips take effort. And then there are trips like Muthyalamadavu, the one that seemed determined to never happen.

AK, CA and I had been circling this plan for what felt like ages. Every time we got close, something stepped in. Work, travel, last minute chaos. The previous attempt ended before it even began, thanks to a perfectly timed flat tyre that felt less like bad luck and more like a running joke.

So when we finally did make it, it felt like breaking a small jinx.

Muthyalamadavu, or Pearl Valley, made sure we earned every bit of it. Slopes that tested the legs, paths that forced us to slow down, and foliage that turned photography into a patient game of hide and seek. Nothing came easy.

But as always, the birds had the final say. And they did not disappoint.

What started as a long delayed plan turned into one of those quietly satisfying outings where effort met reward. Not easy, but absolutely worth it.

Here’s a photo tour.

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As always, we started early at 4:30 am. When the light began to soften the horizon, we pulled over, unable to resist a quiet moment with the dawn.

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At the Pearl Valley entrance, a bonnet macaque balanced on the fence, backlit by the morning sun, enjoying a simple Marie biscuit and turning it into a rather artistic moment.

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The birding began with an Oriental Magpie-Robin, a familiar face to start the day.

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A quiet stretch of wildflowers, softly lit by the morning.

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We slowly made our way down the steps towards the waterfall. A fellow birdwatcher mentioned that the real action lay beyond it.

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At a gazebo on the way down, a bonnet macaque peeked out from the tin roof, quietly checking us out.

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A White-browed Bulbul showed up briefly, keeping to the tangle.

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With no rains for months, the waterfall had shrunk to a gentle trickle.

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Near the falls, we spotted juvenile Indian Paradise Flycatchers.

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A male Loten’s Sunbird in eclipse plumage, with its extra long bill, stayed on the move.

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A White-cheeked Barbet paused at its nesting hole, while a Coppersmith Barbet watched from the canopy.

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Beyond the falls, we walked along the stream bed itself, and every step took effort.

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A restless bunch of Indian White-eyes kept us busy, appearing and disappearing in seconds.

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A Crimson Rose added a quiet splash of red to the trail.

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We searched high and low for the White-rumped Shama. CA got a glimpse, I got a stiff neck as it perched high above us, and no photo. This Tickell’s Blue Flycatcher was my consolation.

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A young Indian Paradise Flycatcher holding its own in the shade.

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A restless Fantail kept flicking its tail open like a hand fan, darting through the thickets and testing my patience.

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A quick pause from an Indian White-eye, though I knew it would be gone the very next second.

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Catching the Black-naped Monarch was a bit of a tour de force.

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The juvenile male Asian Paradise Flycatcher was a fitting last frame, so we turned back. What followed was a careful walk over a scattered rocky path and a climb up the stairs, powered mostly by hunger and the hope of water waiting at the end.

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Somewhere between the missed shots, fleeting glimpses, and a few satisfying frames, the day had already done its job. Pearl Valley had offered enough little gems to make us want to return.

Do drop in a comment with your thoughts.