When the Lake Comes Alive

We had planned a birding trip to Saul Kere, though the weather didn’t seem entirely on our side. The night before had been rainy, and at 5 a.m., a message from AK popped up: “It’s drizzling.” Half awake, I checked the forecast, and the ever-optimistic weatherman promised clear skies by 7 a.m. Trusting his confidence, we decided to go ahead.

AK was to pick up CR on the way, and we aimed to meet at the Saul Kere gate by 6:30 a.m. The rain did stop right on schedule, though Google Maps had its own ideas, sending AK and CR on a small detour. A quick location share fixed that, and by the time they arrived, the drizzle had faded, leaving us with calm, overcast skies that turned out to be perfect for birding.

The lake was bustling with life. Kites and egrets were putting on a fine display of fishing skills, while a local dog decided to join the action, catching its own breakfast and stealing the show. Just when we thought the surprises were over, a Gray Francolin couple briefly appeared near the reeds.

What began as a damp and uncertain morning turned into one filled with lively encounters, good company, and rewarding sightings. It was a reminder that patience and a little faith in the forecast can make all the difference.

Here are the pics.

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Our birding day began with a flash of color of a White-throated Kingfisher perched at a distance, scanning the lake for its first catch of the day.

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A juvenile Brahminy Kite glided low over the lake, circling intently as it honed its fishing skills.

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Also on the prowl was a Spot-billed Pelican, gliding gracefully through the water.

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The juvenile Brahminy was the first to score, swooping down with sharp precision and emerging triumphantly with a fish in its talons.

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He immediately flew up to a dense branch above us to secure his prize. Perched high, the young raptor wasted no time, using its sharp beak to tear into the fresh catch clutched tight in its bright yellow talons. 

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Tucked into the fronds of a dry palm was a Greater Coucal. It was a challenging shot as the light was dim, and the angle was all wrong.

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Deep within the tangle, we spotted another White-throated Kingfisher. Unlike the distant one we'd seen earlier, this individual was closer.

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We soon realized the juvenile wasn't entirely on its own. Tucked into the palm fronds nearby was the magnificent adult Brahminy Kite, keeping a watchful eye on its hunting juvenile.

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A Purple-rumped Sunbird was busy collecting nectar from a patch of deep purple flowers. We watched, captivated, as the bird performed aerial acrobatics, hovering with rapidly beating wings to plunge its long, curved bill into the blooms. 

 

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As the air began to warm slightly, we noticed a pair of Oriental Magpie-Robins perched silently on the skeletal branches of a nearby tree. Their black and white plumage stood out sharply against the grey sky.

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We spotted an Indian Pond Heron on a high snag, holding a small insect. It wasn't in a hurry at all, simply savoring its catch like a slow dessert.

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Just then, a magnificent Painted Stork appeared, gliding low over the water before landing on a vivid mound of red bougainvillea.

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This grandeur was soon followed by three Indian Spot-billed Ducks paddling in perfect formation.

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The calm gave way to drama as a Little Egret erupted from the water, its white wings splayed and a splash trailing its yellow legs, it had secured a fish!

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The burst shot confirmed it, the egret had secured a large fish and was already mid-gulp. 

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This white-and-black stray appeared like a thug, clutching a big catfish in its jaws, utterly unconcerned with the serious birding happening around it.

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An Oriental Darter erupted from the water, its wings fully spread.

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From a lush green perch, the Indian Cormorant surveyed the scene, a true blue-eyed beauty.

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High above the water, another Little Egret was caught in a moment of quiet surveillance.

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Watching the Spot-billed Pelicans simply floating about is a sight you never get tired of.

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Along the muddy bank, a stately Grey Heron and a Great Egret stood together, offering a portrait of elegant silence.

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A small Little Grebe cruised quietly near the reeds. 

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Just when we thought the surprises were over, we got a fleeting glimpse of a Gray Francolin couple before it vanished into the reeds.

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The sun was finally out, bringing with it the humidity and warmth that the butterflies love. A Common Tiger butterfly flitted past.

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It was joined by a Blue Tiger which gave a lovely pose.

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The sky was gorgeous too.

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The Bronze-winged Jacana added a touch of royalty, standing amidst the floating green pads with its metallic plumage catching the light.

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The lake's show never stops. By 9:30 am, the pelicans were sky high, moving to their next daytime space. 

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Since the lake closes at 10 am, we had to wrap up. Before we headed to the gate, we were treated to a view of a White-cheeked Barbet.

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As we walked to the gate, we saw an interaction between a Black Drongo and a Pond Heron.

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We passed the beautiful Canna flower, which usually attracts sunbirds if you can wait a bit longer, but today we were almost out of time.

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The Purple Heron was in no hurry, blending beautifully into the tall, lush green vegetation. 

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Then, we caught the last sweet surprise of the morning: a Greater Coucal couple smooching amongst the green bushes. A perfect curtain call to a morning that began in drizzle and ended in delight.

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As we finally walked out of the gate, the drizzle, the detour, and the early doubts all seemed far behind. Saul Kere had once again proved that every outing holds its own quiet magic. You just need to show up and wait for the lake to tell its story.

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First Impressions of Varthur Lake

For years I resisted visiting Varthur Lake, even though it kept appearing in birding circles. Migrant populations had been reported here and a rare, lone flamingo had been spotted recently. That kind of news usually stirs a birder’s curiosity but in my case it worked the other way. Varthur’s reputation precedes it not for its charm but for its pollution, sewage inflows and frothing waters that Bangalore has come to reluctantly accept as normal.

Still curiosity eventually outweighed resistance. Varthur Lake is after all the city’s second largest waterbody, a thousand year old reservoir built by the Ganga kings, now gasping under the pressures of rapid urbanization. Its story is both ecological and tragic, part of a once interconnected chain of lakes now reduced to a sewage fed expanse battling eutrophication and chemical foam.

I was not expecting much from this outing and in some ways the trip was less rewarding than my usual birding haunts. But the lake had its own way of surprising me with the sweep of kites, a few patient egrets and some fleeting moments of wild beauty struggling to hold on amidst all the odds. Here are the pics.

The header photo for this post was inspired by Sue’s recent write-up on her visit to Mount Rushmore. I decided to give it a birding twist and created this playful version in Photoshop, where herons, kites and other feathered figures take the place of presidents on the rock face.

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A Brahminy Kite soared overhead just as I stepped into the lakeside, its chestnut wings catching the light against the grey sky.

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Among the thorny branches hung an abandoned Baya Weaver nest, its delicate weave now silent.

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I initially thought this magnificent Black Kite had caught a large fish. But the closer I looked, the more the reality of the lake's condition sank in: it wasn't a fish, it was a discarded condom.

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This wasn't the majestic scene I'd hoped for; it was the grim, urban equivalent of the clichéd fishing rod catching an old shoe. 

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The kite landed on a nearby streetlight. As an opportunistic scavenger, it had evolved to identify and consume almost anything with caloric value. It was inspecting the rubber and was clearly still believing the object to be edible.

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But after stretching the rubber to its hilt, the bird seemed to finally realize that this was not a meal, but a mere stretch, unyielding and inedible. 

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Not every story here was grim. Another Black Kite flew past, not scavenging, but focused entirely on nesting. 

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Moving on from the drama of the raptors, I found this tiny Paddyfield Pipit perched near the lake's edge. It offered a moment of quiet, focused beauty that was a world away from the soaring kites.

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This panoramic shot captures the full, conflicting reality of Varthur Lake.

From the foreground, you see the sandy path and the wild, tangled vegetation that defines the lake’s natural edge, the very place where I stood birding. To the right, the water is choked by a massive, emerald mat of aquatic weeds, a direct visual sign of the eutrophication caused by the sewage.

But it’s the background that ties the ecological story to the tragic one. Across the wide expanse of water, the skyline of modern Bangalore rises, defined by distant apartment complexes and office buildings. This view illustrates, in a single frame, the immense pressure of rapid urbanization that is suffocating this ancient waterbody.

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A Purple Heron swept into the frame, while, standing motionless in the dense, eutrophic green matting, a Grey Heron skulked like a statue.

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This Intermediate Egret, too, was skulking, standing patiently in the weeds in the way of all successful herons and egrets. I couldn't help but hope that its presence, and its intense focus, meant that there were still fishes below the surface.

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A welcome sight that proved the water's surface was still producing food was the arrival of the Whiskered Terns. These graceful, buoyant birds were a flurry of motion and agility. 

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Another high-speed hunter working the water was the Dusky Crag-Martin. My camera accidentally caught them while chasing the agile Whiskered Terns.

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The dull greens and browns of the lakeside weeds were suddenly interrupted by this flash of color of a Plain Tiger butterfly.

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As I moved along the embankment, I found a small herd of cattle grazing, and they came with their own passengers, House Crows. These intelligent, ubiquitous urban scavengers were exploiting a perfect, mobile vantage point.

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Joining the crowd, a Jungle Myna also hitched a ride.

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A small egret, likely a Little Egret or Intermediate Egret flies low and fast over the lake's vast, green expanse. 

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The Touch-Me-Not folds at a mere touch, yet still blooms in harsh soil. Varthur Lake does the same—it forces us to flinch at the pollution, but looking away won’t make it disappear. Life endures, and so do the problems on its banks.

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I waited patiently as an Intermediate egret moved through the lake’s weeds. Then it caught a fish, a small triumph showing nature still endures.

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Despite everything, Varthur Lake reminded me that even in the most degraded habitats, life adapts and endures. The birds, butterflies and fleeting moments of wildness here are fragile signs of resilience, but they are also reminders of how much we stand to lose if these waters continue to decline.

What do you think? Can urban lakes like Varthur be restored, or are we only documenting their slow disappearance? I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments.