A poetic sojourn in Saul Kere

This week, I attempt to narrate my bird sightings at Saul Kere lake in poetic form...

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In the early hours of the day,
As the sun starts to break the gray,

Painted Storks skim the water, with skill,
Their eyes locked on the fish, they will soon fulfill,

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By the peaceful waters, they all stand,
Herons, storks, stilts, and ducks so grand,

Each with their own unique style,
Fishing in tandem, all the while.

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In the calm waters, so serene,
The stilts and an egret, a stunning scene,

Preening their feathers, in the morning light,
Posing for a photo, a sight so bright.

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The Painted storks, with their long legs so high,
Stalk the shallows, with an eagle's eye,

In search of fish, or anything else,
To satisfy their hunger, so intense.

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The Spot-billed pelicans seems at home,
Graceful and serene they roam,

Gliding through the water with ease,
As they search for their next catch to seize.

...

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A bunch of painted storks in pursuit of meal,
Dipping their beaks in water, it's a sight surreal,

With bright pink feathers and long, thin legs,
They wade through the water, like graceful pegs.

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As they dip and sway, in search of their meal,
Their beauty and grace, make our hearts feel,

The wonders of nature, and its many charms,
A world so vast, with creatures in their arms.

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In shallow water, there dabbles a bird,
With feathers bright, its colors blurred,

A Garganey, with grace and charm,
Its beauty never ceases to disarm.

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With its small size and dainty bill,
It dips and dabbles with an easy skill,

Feeding on insects and tiny prey,
In the shallow water, it spends its day.

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The male’s feathers are a sight to see,
A pattern bold, with colors free,

Black, brown, and white, all combined,
In a breathtaking design, so refined.

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And during the breeding season,
The males put on quite the exhibition,

Raising their wings and bobbing their head,
In an elaborate dance, to win a mate to wed.

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A great cormorant in a commotion,
Teaches the young ones the tricks to fish,

In the water they dive with devotion,
With a skill that's honed, they'll get their wish.

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The elder cormorant leads the way,
Instructing the young on how to dive and sway,

With wings that spread out wide and strong,
They glide through the water, as if they belong.

...

With a flick of their head, they seek out their prey,
A fish in the water, not so far away,

They dive down deep, to catch their fill,
A skill that takes practice, but they have the will.

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And so the young ones learn from the old,
A craft that's been passed on, and never grows cold,

With each passing day, they'll grow and thrive,
A true testament, to the circle of life.

So watch the great cormorant, in its commotion,
A sight that's wondrous, with such devotion,

A teacher and guide, to the young at heart,
A beautiful dance, that's been there from the start.

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With wings that span so wide and strong,
The pelican glides through the air,

In a flock of storks, they belong,
Sharing their knowledge, without a care.

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So watch the pelican and storks,
In their teaming, in their talks,

A wonder of nature, like a dream,
A sight that's more than it seems.

...
Suddenly a kingfisher dives,
Into the water, he thrives,

A fish in his beak he retrieves,
With strength and power, he strives.

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He thrashes it about,
Without mercy or doubt,

Until the fish is devout,
And the kingfisher's hunger is out.

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Nature can be tough,
But it's necessary stuff,

For survival is rough,
And the kingfisher must be tough.

So let us watch and admire,
The kingfisher's skill and desire,

For he is the forest's squire,
A hunter without tire.

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A skulking purple heron,
In the shallow water, he waits and watches on,

His eyes scan the surface, patient and strong,
For an unwary prey, to come along.

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High up in the trees,
A colony of weaver ants, busy as bees,

They scurry and crawl, with ease,
Sucking fruit juices, in a team, like a breeze.

Their tiny bodies, moving in unison,
A well-coordinated effort, never undone,

They work with precision, until the task is won,
Each ant, a part of a larger mission.

The fruit, they drain of its sweet nectar,
A bounty, that they will protect her,

With their sharp jaws, they dissect her,
And the juice, they share, like a sector.

Their teamwork, a wonder to behold,
A system, that's intricate and bold,

For every ant, plays a role, we're told,
And together, they work, with a goal.

So let us marvel, at these weaver ants,
Their teamwork, a lesson, we can enhance,

For in unity, lies a great chance,
To achieve greatness, and to advance.

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With his red cheeks, and his crest of black,
He flies with grace, never out of whack,

His chirping call, a cheerful knack,
A sight, that never leaves us slack.

From tree to tree, he jumps and glides,
A dance, that nature does provide,

A show, that leaves us mesmerized,
With the flying Red-whiskered Bulbul, by our side.

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On the still and tranquil waters clear,
A creature of beauty does appear,

A bird of grace, with beauty rare,
The Pheasant-tailed Jacana is found there.

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With wings of brown and yellow hue,
And a slender beak, oh so true,

It glides on water, like a leaf so light,
A wonder to see, such a sight!

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A long, slender tail, like a pheasant's feather,
A crown of gold, like a monarch's treasure,

A beady eye, so bright and keen,
This bird is like a living dream.

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Its feet, oh how they are so strange,
Like long, thin fingers, arranged in range,

With webs between, for gliding on water,
This bird is built for a life of wonder.

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In the beauty of nature's peace,
The Pheasant-tailed Jacana finds release,

A bird of grace, a sight to behold,
A wonder to see, so rare and bold.

...

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The Tabebuia Rosea, a wondrous sight,
With bold flowers, a stunning delight,

Bangalore speaks of its beauty with might,
A timeless spectacle, always in sight.

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Its flowers, a vibrant shade of pink,
A closer look, reveals petals in sync,

A beauty, that's hard to blink,
A sight, that makes us stop and think.

Up close, its stamen, a golden hue,
A perfect contrast, against pink so true,

A beauty, that's natural, and not anew,
A sight, that makes us feel brand new.

The streets of Bangalore, a canvas so pure,
The Tabebuia rosea, its beauty, so sure,

A sight, that makes our hearts lure,
A reminder, that nature's beauty, forever endures.

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A female Asian Koel, perched high on a tree,
Sits alone and waits patiently,

For a male to come and woo her, you see,
With his melodious song, so free.

She is a beauty, with her dark plumage,
A vision, that never loses its gauge,

But her heart, she's waiting to engage,
For a mate, she's willing to amaze.

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A bird with a bill, so blue and yellow,
A sight that's rare, like a precious fellow,

With colors, that are bright and mellow,
A beauty, that makes our hearts bellow.

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Chestnut-tailed Starling, a beauty so rare,
A bird with feathers, beyond compare,

With a chestnut tail, and a gleaming hair,
A sight, that takes away all despair.

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The Indian Golden Oriole, with its disheveled yellow feathers,
A sight, that's unique, like no other birds in weathers,

With a beauty, that's rare, and truly one-of-a-kind,
A bird, that fills our hearts, with awe and wonder in mind.

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Its feathers, a hue of yellow, so bright and bold,
A beauty, that's beyond, any story told,

Its color, a symbol, of nature's own gold,
A bird, that we cannot help, but behold.

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The Black Drongo, with its forky tail, sat in a colorful scene,
A persona, that's lean and mean,

With a plumage, so black, and a tail, so distinct,
A bird that fills our hearts, with wonder and instinct.

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Cormorants fly in the sky, with wings spread wide,
A sight, that's majestic, like a moment to abide,

With a grace, so elegant, and a beauty, so pure,
A bird, that fills our hearts, with awe and allure.

In formation, they fly, like a synchronized dance,
A sight, that's harmonious, like a symphony's trance,

With wings, that beat, to a rhythm so perfect,
A beauty, that's beyond, any human effect.

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The Ashy Woodswallow, a bird so small and shy,
Sat hidden on a lamppost, barely catching the eye,

A sight, that's rare, and a beauty, so sly,
A bird, that fills our hearts, with wonder and awry.

Its feathers, an ashy gray, so soft and light,
A beauty, that's subtle, like a star in the night,

Its eyes, so bright, and its gaze, so tight,
A bird, that we cannot help, but delight.

Sitting on a lamppost, it looked so calm and still,
A sight, that's mesmerizing, like a moment to fulfill,

With a beauty, that's hidden, like a treasure to unveil,
A bird, that's a wonder, like a precious fairy tale.

I hope you enjoyed reading the post. Please share your thoughts in the comments section below.