Wonders on a Saturday Morning

Woke up on Saturday to some cloudy skies and figured it was a good day for a walk. Grabbed my camera and headed to Kannamangala Lake for a slow stroll. The weather was perfect. Cool, quiet, and just moody enough to feel like something interesting might happen. And it did. I spotted a few feathered surprises and even got some decent shots. Here’s how it all went.

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I had planned the visit to catch the sunrise, but the clouds had other ideas. This quiet stretch of road, near the lake, set the tone for the morning. A few early birds were already active, calling from the trees.

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My first notable sighting was an Indian Pond Heron carefully making its way along the water’s edge. Its slow, deliberate movements and intense focus as it searched for prey were impressive to watch.

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Nearby, an Intermediate Egret stood still and watchful, skulking near the water's edge, a picture of quiet patience.

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The gazebo stood silently under the moody sky, perfectly still except for the gentle breeze rustling through the leaves.

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The little bridge was already occupied by a lively pair of White-browed Wagtails.

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Then, the cloudy sky began to break, and dramatic rays of sunlight filtered through, casting beautiful streaks of light onto the still surface of the lake and the surrounding trees.

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I caught a quick glimpse of a vibrant Common Kingfisher before it vanished into the reeds. Just enough time for two quick clicks of the shutter.

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A busy Little Grebe was on the prowl. It spotted its prey… and snap! Mission successful.

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A flash of crimson then caught my eye – a Red-whiskered Bulbul perched boldly on a branch. It seemed quite aware of my presence, turning its head with a curious chirp before flitting to another spot.

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My attention then shifted to a nearby branch laden with a Cluster figs.

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With an air of frantic urgency, a White-breasted Waterhen, a common yet often unseen resident, suddenly broke cover and hurried away across my path.

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A striking Pied Kingfisher perched patiently on bare branches above the water, sharing its vantage point briefly with a sleek Black Drongo. For the next hour, I watched with bated breath, hoping to capture the moment the kingfisher would finally take flight.

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Finally, after an hour of patient observation, the Pied Kingfisher hovered momentarily in mid-air, a blur of black and white against the green backdrop, perfectly poised before its anticipated dive. 

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The hover was perfect, a textbook pause before the plunge. Moments later, it returned to its perch, a tiny silver fish held firmly in its beak – a successful reward for its patience and precision.

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A Common Moorhen glided by clutching some aquatic vegetation, its red beak a vivid splash of color.

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With a powerful thrust of its wings, an Indian Spot-billed Duck erupted from the still water, revealing a stunning flash of iridescent blue-green on its speculum – a truly spectacular departure.

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Another 45 minutes passed in hopeful anticipation, my gaze fixed on the Pied Kingfisher perched patiently. Finally, with a burst of energy, it launched itself into the air once more, a flash of black and white against the muted tones of the lake.

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Just when I thought I was done capturing the day, the Indian Spot-billed Duck decided to give me a few more memorable shots.

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On my way back, an Indian Pond Heron caught my eye as it was actively hunting. Perched low over the water on a fallen log, its gaze was intensely focused on the surface, ready to strike.

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In a swift, precise movement, it dipped its sharp beak into the water and emerged with a small catch. Its focused hunting paying off instantly.

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The calm waters of the lake then offered a serene reflection of the scattered clouds and the lush greenery along the banks.

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The morning's last fisher was this striking Little Egret.

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And that wraps up my Saturday morning stroll around Kannamangala Lake! I hope you enjoyed these glimpses of the local birdlife. Feel free to leave a comment below with your thoughts.

A Hoskote Summer Prelude

The sky's a little quieter, the reeds a little less crowded—our winged winter tourists have packed their bags. But the resident birds at Hoskote Lake? Still holding fort, thank you very much. I dropped in last Sunday for a quick hello, and by the time I left at 8:30 AM, the sun had decided it was summer already. Classic Bangalore. Here are the pics.

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I had planned to reach the lake exactly at sunrise—6:13 AM, according to the weather app that believes I'm always punctual. In reality, I made it with a fashionable couple of minutes delay. As I walked in, the sun was already staging its grand entrance, caught dramatically between the bare branches like a shy performer peeking through the curtain.

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And then, slowly, it emerged—rising above the trees in full golden glory. For a few magical moments, the sky blushed in shades of orange and red, and everything stood still.

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And then it was out in full splendour—well, almost. A few thin clouds decided to play photobombers, draping themselves lazily across the sun like it was still their turn to sleep in. But the light was golden, the lake shimmered awake, and the day had officially begun.

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Just as the sky began rinsing out its reds and sliding into gold, a familiar figure materialized on the crown of a coconut tree. An Indian Peafowl, silhouetted in profile like a finely chiselled emblem, surveying its kingdom with the quiet pride of one who knows it’s born fabulous.

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As I moved a few steps ahead, a loud, accusatory cry rang out from the grasslands. A Red-wattled Lapwing, standing tall and indignant, glared in my direction. Like a hyper-alert watchman with a megaphone, it shrieked its signature line—“Did-you-do-it? Pity-you-do-it!”

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Clearly, I had crossed an invisible boundary. I nodded politely, apologized under my breath, and carried on, smiling. Some birds judge. Others scream while doing it.

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A Shikra, hidden in the bamboo thicket, watched everything unfold with the calm detachment of a seasoned assassin. Its yellow eye was unblinking, intense, and mildly offended by all the drama. Unlike the lapwing, it didn’t yell. It didn't judge. It just… remembered.

Perched right above the remains of its last kill, it was the quiet contrast to the lapwing’s noisy outrage. If the grassland had a code of silence, this raptor wrote it.

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A Pied Bush Chat burst from the scrub, wings outstretched in dramatic flourish. The lapwing might’ve had the voice, the shikra the stare—but this little chat had theatre in its soul.

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Next was a Zitting Cisticola—a notoriously fidgety little bird that usually vanishes before you even say “cisticola.” But today? It decided to be generous.

Perched on a bare twig, feathers perfectly fluffed, it posed like it had a fan club to impress.

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Then, just as quickly, it zipped back into the grass. Classic.

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High above, on a bare branch against a sky so blue, sat an Asian Green Bee-eater. Sleek, stylish, and entirely unbothered, it tossed a freshly caught bee into the air like a sushi chef flipping shrimp for flair.

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And then—bam. Enter the Black-shouldered Kite. Perched high and deadly still, it looked like a cloud had grown talons and decided to judge us all from above. Those piercing red eyes didn’t blink, didn’t waver—just burned through the morning air like laser sights set to "silent disapproval."

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At just 8:30 in the morning, the heat was already palpable. The birds had settled after their early bursts of activity, and even the dog at the lakeside needed a break—stopping to drink from the cool water, a clear sign that summer is making itself known.

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Hope you liked this little window into the morning. Drop a comment. Would love to hear what you think!