My First Visit to Mulluru Lake

Mulluru Lake was one of those names that floated around in birding circles like a half-kept secret. Last weekend, curiosity won, and I finally went to see what the whispers were all about. It was my first visit, and while I went in expecting a calm lake and maybe a heron or two, what I actually found was a lively gathering of feathered residents, each with their own quirks, colors, and personalities. Here are the pictures from my first birding adventure at Mulluru.

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But before I dive into the sightings, here’s a quick snapshot about the lake itself (thankfully, the signboard did the homework for me):

Mulluru Lake

• Spread across 37 acres
• Average depth: 2.94 meters
• Peripheral length: 1.94 km
• Storage capacity: 3973 million liters
• Catchment area: 2.23 sq km

Tucked away under the care of Kodathi Grama Panchayat, this restored lake is more than just a water body. It’s a thriving ecosystem where kingfishers, herons, moorhens, parakeets, and cormorants all decide to put on a show for anyone patient enough to watch.

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My first sighting of the day was a magnificent intermediate egret, and what a welcome it was! Standing in the shallow, muddy water, its pristine white feathers were a striking contrast against the dark bank. With a powerful beat, it launched into the air.

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A flash of brilliant blue caught my eye. It was a White-throated Kingfisher, perched on a low-hanging branch. It made a series of quick, flamboyant dives into the water, each one dramatic but unsuccessful attempt to catch a meal. 

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While the more vibrant birds were putting on a show, a subtle beauty caught my eye. Initially, I thought I had spotted a lifer. But a second look revealed a familiar shape. This was a juvenile Common Moorhen, a much more understated version of its adult counterpart. 

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My hunch was confirmed as it glided gracefully alongside an adult. The two of them, a parent and its chick, were a sweet sight, quietly navigating the waters together.

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These little ones were a study in purposeful exploration, showing off their budding skills and proving that even at a young age, they were ready to take on the world, one shaky step at a time.

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While the juvenile was a lesson in subtle beauty, the adult Common Moorhen was a masterclass in quiet elegance. Its dark, sleek body was broken up by a striking red shield above its beak and a flash of yellow at the tip.

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Next, an elegant Little Grebe drew my gaze. Though tiny, its presence was undeniable, a master of stealth that would disappear under the water and reappear moments later.

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After several misses, the kingfisher got lucky and emerged with a small crab. It flew back to its perch like a hunter proudly displaying its hard-won meal.

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An Asian green bee-eater zipped off its branch and returned moments later with a bee, proving that while some hunters have their off days, others are just plain lucky.

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At first glance, the Glossy Ibis wasn't a bird that screamed for attention. But then, the sunlight hit it just right.

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The little cormorants were in their typical poses. I watched one stand sentinel on a high perch, scanning for the next promising fishing spot, while another dried its wings after a successful dive.

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As I walked around the lake, the cloudy sky and quiet water wrapped everything in calm.

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My eyes were soon drawn to a dense clump of wild sugarcane on the far side.

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The wild sugarcane served as the perfect backdrop for my next sighting: a spotted dove perched on a bare branch.

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A Greater Coucal was next, a large, powerful bird with a black body, chestnut wings, and an unforgettable red eye.

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A familiar and lively rose-ringed parakeet was next, a burst of vibrant green clinging to the side of a palm tree. With its long tail feathers fanning out, the bird stood guard to its nest.

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A sudden burst of yellow lit up the scene. It was a slender Grey Wagtail, a migrant from distant lands, restlessly bobbing its long tail as it perched. 

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I finally reached the other side of the lake, where the wild sugarcane grew in a dense patch. Up close, the tall plumes were even more stunning than they had appeared from a distance. 

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A grey heron, a species I know as the "eternal skulker," stood perfectly motionless on a submerged log.

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Completing my full circle around the lake, I found myself back in the kingfisher's territory. This time, the bird was in a relaxed perch, no longer a frenetic hunter.

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And there, at the base of that same skeletal tree where the kingfisher had been hunting, I saw a beautiful surprise. A Eurasian coot sat on its nest. But my eyes were immediately drawn to the tiny, reddish-orange hatchling peeking out from beneath the parent's wing, a small, fluffy ball of new life.

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As I watched the Eurasian coot on its nest, a second tiny hatchling emerged, a mirror image of the first. These fiery-headed fluffballs looked like they’d been dipped in orange paint, tiny but already managing to steal the spotlight.

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The elder chick, having just emerged into the world, was looking with a mix of wonder and curiosity at the unhatched eggs.

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The mother Eurasian coot sat patiently beside her newly hatched chick, a picture of calm protection. The chick's tiny, fiery orange beak held a small white tip, a miniature version of the prominent white shield and beak on the adult. 

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By the time I finished my loop, I realized Mulluru was no longer a whispered name to me. It had revealed itself as a place of quiet drama, new life, and everyday beauty. I left with more than just photographs; I left with the promise of returning.

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