The Breakfast Club of Saul Kere

Breakfast time is usually a private affair, but at Saul Kere I somehow stumbled into the wild’s busiest little cafeteria. The Jungle Myna was busy doing room service for its demanding chick, the Green Bee-eaters were on a fine-dining spree with dragonflies and bees, and a Drongo was lurking around like a grumpy food critic. Even a squirrel decided to crash the scene with its own crunchy snack. It felt less like birdwatching and more like eavesdropping on a breakfast club, and I was the only uninvited guest with a camera!

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As soon as I entered, I saw two Greater Coucals rustling through the undergrowth.

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The usually shy Greater Coucal ignored my presence, too absorbed in tugging at something wriggly from the undergrowth.

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I moved to the wooded area of the trail, which other birders fondly call ‘the studio’, a natural stage where most of the best sightings happen.

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The Asian Bee-eaters had already begun their breakfast sorties, darting out like tiny fighter jets after bees and dragonflies.

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The Drongo came with its early-bird incentive, landing right next to the Bee-eater with a prize already clenched in its beak.

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The breakfast club had its shy members, too. A commotion in the reeds drew my eye to this White-breasted Waterhen, fiercely protective of its morning meal.

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A dainty Scaly-breasted Munia, dressed in its impeccably patterned waistcoat, clung delicately to a reed. While others were chasing insects, this little one was content with the simpler items on the menu, clinging effortlessly to its perch to find the best seeds.

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The birds weren't the only ones enjoying the morning menu. This energetic Indian Palm Squirrel found a quiet corner for its breakfast. After a quick survey of its surroundings, it tucked into a colourful snack before scampering away.

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And then, a moment of silence. The grumpy food critic, the Black Drongo, had taken its seat. Perched and poised, it surveyed the entire breakfast scene with a proprietary air. It hadn't ordered anything yet, but you just knew it already had a complaint ready.

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A Brahminy Kite appeared against the stark, grey canvas of the sky. It sat in silent judgment before launching itself into the air. 

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A Bee-eater's work is never truly done; even during a cuddle, they are scanning the skies. 

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After acquiring a target from their strategic vantage point, the order to scramble was given. With a sudden, synchronized burst of energy, their quiet perch was abandoned.

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It turned out they had simply gone to pick up their takeaway orders. The pair returned to their favourite branch to enjoy the fruits of their acrobatic hunt. On the menu this morning was a crunchy dragonfly for one, and a juicy bee for the other. 

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The mission was never truly over. I watched them launch sortie after sortie, a tireless patrol over their hunting grounds. Each flight was a masterclass in aviation—sharp dives, banking turns, and graceful glides.

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The overlord's watch continued. From a thorny perch, the Black Drongo observed the morning's final acts. Then, without a sound, its shift was over. A powerful downbeat of its wings, and it was gone.

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While I was distracted by the cafeteria's many patrons, the main event was still underway. The Jungle Myna parent diligently brought breakfast to its fledgling, who, despite being big enough to sit on its own branch, was still a helpless baby at heart. The young one was still wobbly and learning to fly.

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Meet the breakfast club's resident carpenter: a White-cheeked Barbet. While other patrons dined and dashed, this future parent was busy excavating a new family home, guaranteeing the club will have new, noisy members for seasons to come.

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And then, the rowdy regulars made their entrance. A gang of Rose-ringed Parakeets, impossible to ignore with their bright plumage and even brighter calls, claimed a large branch for themselves. They arrived in a flurry of wings, landing with a flourish to join their friends. While other diners had been focused on the quiet drama of their meals, this group was all about the loud, cheerful chaos of a shared table.

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And then, the cabaret performer arrived. She was the Indian Blue Mormon butterfly, drifting onto the stage with dazzling wings that shimmered like sequins under the spotlight. Unlike the noisy diners, she needed no calls or songs to grab attention. Her graceful entrance was pure showmanship, stealing the scene with effortless glamour. 

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The frantic breakfast rush had finally given way to a peaceful late morning, and with it came the last bruncher. A White-browed Bulbul, taking its time, appeared for a leisurely meal. Its choice of a simple berry was a fitting end to a menu that had featured everything from bees to dragonflies. The cafeteria was finally winding down, leaving me with this one last, quiet patron to close out a truly unforgettable show.

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As the sun climbed higher and the breakfast rush slowly melted into a calm late morning, Saul Kere’s bustling cafeteria finally closed its doors. From the shy Coucal to the ever-busy Bee-eaters, the grumpy Drongo to the noisy Parakeets, each guest had played its part in a morning performance that was equal parts chaos and wonder. I left with a full memory card and an even fuller heart.

What about you? Which member of this wild breakfast club is your favorite? Drop your thoughts in the comments, I’d love to hear!