Trip to Ranganathittu Bird Sanctuary

After the unexpected success at Turahalli Tree Park, the three birding musketeers decided to play it safe. Ranganathittu Bird Sanctuary felt like a guaranteed bet. After all, it is a sanctuary. Birds are part of the job description there.

I was not entirely convinced.

The last time I had visited Ranganathittu Bird Sanctuary was nearly twenty years ago. My memory was filled with an endless parade of pelicans, Painted Storks and more pelicans. Somewhere along the way I had convinced myself that I had seen it all there. The excitement had faded into a comfortable, slightly bored familiarity.

But birding has a way of humbling assumptions.

This time, the sanctuary had other plans for us. The usual residents were there, of course, posing like seasoned celebrities. Yet tucked between the predictable frames were moments that made the heart race. Unexpected behaviour. Beautiful light. And yes, lifers that had us grinning like first timers again.

Here are the pictures that tell the real story.

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C had done the meticulous planning and contacted the boatman well in advance. We reached Ranganathittu Bird Sanctuary just after 6:30 am, well before sunrise.

As we waited for the birds to stir, A reminded me to photograph the moon before it faded into daylight. So the morning began not with pelicans or storks, but with a quiet lunar frame suspended in the blue sky.

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After paying for the tickets and the camera fee, we were gently reminded that at this sanctuary, lens size matters. The larger the lens, the larger the fee. My big lens meant I paid double.

Life jackets were strapped on, gear carefully balanced, and we stepped into the boat. A few other boats were already drifting out, silhouettes cutting through the mist as the sanctuary slowly woke up.

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Of course, it would not be a visit to Ranganathittu without meeting the resident celebrity. The pelican.

Twenty years ago I was tired of them. This time, in the soft golden mist, with water beading on that enormous bill and a perfect reflection below, I had to admit something.

Some celebrities age well.

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As we drifted along the river, the first light finally broke through the mist.

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The treetops revealed clusters of Asian Openbill nests. Long pink legs balanced on fragile branches, bills tucked into feathers, half grown chicks shifting and stretching in the morning sun.

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A pelican sat surrounded by a committee of cormorants.

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Our boat moved slowly along the misty waters. In the distance, bare treetops were dotted with egrets, like blossoms that had chosen the wrong season.

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And there, slightly lower on a branch, a peacock held court. The distant shape resolved into an Indian Peafowl. In the soft morning light, the blues and greens came alive.

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On a sun warmed rock, a pair of Indian River Terns had claimed their patch. One sat low over the eggs, barely moving. The other stood nearby, alert and watchful. No drama. Just quiet teamwork and trust in the middle of the river.

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On the rocks, a pair of Great Thick-knees stood perfectly still.

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Numerous Black-crowned Night Herons were tucked into the foliage.

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A pair of Pied Kingfishers sat shoulder to shoulder.

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Lone trees rooted in rock, green islands floating in calm water, soft morning light brushing every leaf. The mist lingered just enough to make everything feel painted rather than photographed.

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The boatman steered us to a cliff face where a colony of swallows had taken over. 

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Mud nests lined the rock, and swallows zipped in and out nonstop.

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A chick peered out from its mud cup nest, tucked safely into the rock face. From the outside it looked like rough clay. Inside, it was a carefully built shelter, warm and alive.

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Two tiny heads waited at the entrance. No time wasted. Swift arrivals, quick exchanges, and back into the sky again.

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Dozens of mud nests packed tightly into the rock face. Birds darted in, hovered, vanished into tiny doorways, and reappeared seconds later.

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As if one was not enough, another Indian Peafowl appeared on a nearby branch.

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A close look at the Great Thick-knee revealed details easy to miss at first glance. That bold eye ring. The sharp black and white facial stripes. The sturdy bill built for probing rocky edges. Standing still on the stone, it blends perfectly. Zoom in, and the expression is intense, almost prehistoric.

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High up in the trees, Indian Flying Foxes hung in clusters.

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A Mugger Crocodile glided past our boat. Only the ridged back and watchful eyes above water.

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A striking Painted Stork proudly held its catch, though it hardly looked edible.

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We wrapped up the boating. Here is a look at the islands teeming with life from the shore.

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We chased down a restless Tickell's Blue Flycatcher along the trails.

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A magnificent Blue Mormon soaked in the morning light.

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A Cinereous Tit weaved through the tangle of roots.

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Male and female Small Minivets put on a full aerial show.

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A female Purple-rumped Sunbird rested among blossoms.

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A Spot-breasted Fantail worked the bamboo like a tiny acrobat. In and out of the leaves, tail fanned wide, never still for a second. Half the time we saw feathers, the other half just movement. Classic fantail chaos and totally worth the chase.

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A spotted this Forest Wagtail, which she had earlier managed only record shots of in Andaman. Seeing it closer home was a pleasant surprise. Of course, it was a lifer for me, and the bird was clearly in a mood to pose.

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A pair of Large-billed Crows, one clearly gossiping and the other pretending not to be involved.

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A quiet Tickell's Blue Flycatcher, calmly perched in the filtered forest light.

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A Spot-breasted Fantail putting up a full performance among the dry leaves. Tail fanned, wings half raised, attitude fully switched on.

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While I was fully absorbed with the fantail, a sanctuary worker quietly pointed to a distant beauty. An Indian Paradise Flycatcher glowing in the light. Sometimes extra eyes make all the difference.

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Some trees still bare, some bursting with green, all standing in calm conversation with the sky.

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Male and female Purple-rumped Sunbirds.

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Last frame of the day.

A soft cascade of blooms, closing the day on a gentle note.

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Familiar places change. Light changes. We change. And sometimes all it takes is one lifer, one unexpected moment, or one extra pair of eyes to make it feel brand new again.

Ranganathittu surprised me. Again.

Which frame stood out to you the most? I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments.