My First Visit to Harohalli

Every lake has its own rhythm and on my first visit to Harohalli Lake (North Bangalore) I was eager to tune in. I went with AK and CR, letting AK’s familiarity with the place guide us along the trails. 

The morning was alive with movement and sound. A Common Hawk-Cuckoo called from the trees, Jacobin Cuckoos made a sudden appearance, and Baya Weavers busied themselves at their nests. Out on the water, pelicans and herons kept watch while darters dived and surfaced with fish, and flocks of whistling ducks glided low across the lake. The birds were familiar, but in Harohalli’s calm setting they felt like new discoveries, each moment adding to the quiet joy of the morning.

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From darkness to dawn, we drove out of the city and reached Harohalli Lake just past six.

I had started early, picked up AK and CR, and here’s the dash cam video of our drive, shown at four times speed.

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The lake looked full of potential for birdwatching. A three kilometre periphery trail wrapped around it, opening into a variety of habitats with open water, reed beds, scattered trees and grassy edges. It felt like the kind of place where every turn could bring a new sighting.

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The periphery trail around Harohalli Lake was well laid out, with parallel tracks for walking and cycling. It made the three kilometre loop not just practical but also inviting, weaving through greenery and opening into different bird habitats.

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The first sighting was a pelican gliding silently across the still water, its long beak catching the faint morning light.

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A little further on, the calm was lifted by the bright call of an Ashy Prinia, perched on fresh leaves, singing into the morning air.

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Perched high on a bare branch, a Brahminy Kite surveyed the lake. Its chestnut wings and white head glowed against the muted sky, a regal presence watching over the waters.

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A sudden flutter by the Lesser Whistling Duck rippled across the quiet waters, drawing our eyes to its graceful lift.

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Nearby, a pair of Lesser Whistling Ducks drifted in silence, their warm brown plumage dissolving into the lake’s mirrored stillness.

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The haunting call that had followed us since we arrived finally revealed its source. A Common Hawk-Cuckoo sat fixed upon an electric pole, unwilling to move.

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On the thorny branches of an acacia, a bustling colony of Baya Weavers had set up their hanging homes. Their golden crowns flashed in the morning light as they busied themselves, weaving, inspecting, and calling out, each pendulous nest a marvel of design swaying gently in the breeze.

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Amid the play of light and shadow, tender new leaves unfurled in shades of rose.

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The sun finally broke through the drifting clouds.

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A little further along, a Grey Heron emerged with quiet grace. It stood half-hidden, its long neck rising above the grasses.

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A Spot-billed Pelican perched on a bare tree, calm and watchful, while cormorants spread their wings nearby.

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The Jacobin Cuckoo now revealed itself, crest raised, perched among the thorns like a messenger of the changing season.

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Out on the lake, an Oriental Darter (Snakebird) surfaced dramatically, a fish skewered on its sharp beak. With a swift flick, it tossed the catch and swallowed it whole before gliding away, its snake-like neck cutting smoothly through the water.

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A Spot-billed Pelican drifted slowly, unhurried and composed. Its large frame seemed effortless on the lake, carried by the gentle sway of ripples.

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Away from the bustle of wings and ripples, a pair of Tridax daisies swayed quietly in the breeze. Small, unassuming, yet radiant in their own way.

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The pelicans had taken over the half-submerged trees, turning them into a bustling colony. Some preened, some rested, and one stretched its wings wide as if declaring the territory theirs.

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Two darters mirrored each other on the branches, wings stretched to dry in the open air.

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A sudden flash of white caught my eye as a Black-crowned Night Heron swept in.

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Hidden in the lattice of branches, the Black-crowned Night Heron kept its quiet vigil, its red eye the only giveaway.

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A Grey Heron, a Painted Stork, and an Oriental Darter shared a tangled patch.

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A small image of Goddess Durga in a bright golden frame rested against the peak of a weathered termite mound.

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With that, the full circle of the lake was complete. Returning to where the Common Hawk-Cuckoo had first announced its presence, I found it still in place, unyielding atop its chosen perch, yellow eye bright and unblinking. 

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I paused for one last look, hoping for a glimpse of movement and in that moment, the Common Hawk-Cuckoo obliged, lifting off in a sudden, graceful flight. 

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A moment later, the Common Hawk-Cuckoo settled onto a slender branch, prize in beak, a plump caterpillar freshly caught.

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The Baya Weavers were in constant motion around their nests, darting and weaving through the thorny branches. I managed to capture them mid-flight.

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A pair of Lesser Whistling Ducks floated quietly among the water plants, their warm brown plumage blending seamlessly with the marsh. One dipped its head into the water, while the other raised its face, droplets sparkling above its beak. Calm and unhurried, they seemed perfectly at home in the gentle hush of the lakeside morning.

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The last sighting of the morning was a solitary Purple Heron.

The lake had given us a slow unfolding of sights and sounds, each bird, each ripple, each flash of color adding to its rhythm. What began in the dim light of dawn had opened into a full circle of encounters, leaving me with the sense that Harohalli is both familiar and new at the same time.

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