A week ago, birding circles were abuzz with the news of a Verditer Flycatcher sighting at Saul Kere. By the time I made my way there, I knew I was late, but hope has its own rhythm. Maybe it would still be around.
When I arrived, the place was already alive with birdwatchers. Cameras stood like sentinels, all pointed toward the trees, every eye searching for that flash of blue. It soon became clear that this would be a game of patience.
The morning unfolded slowly, like a page turning. Pelicans glided gracefully over the water. Herons stood poised in stillness, parakeets chattered from the canopy, and somewhere in the distance, an oriole called, a bright promise in gold that proved just as elusive as the Verditer.
Saul Kere offered a treasure trove of beautiful sightings, each one a quiet reward for those willing to wait.
Time stretched and softened until, at last, the Verditer appeared. Not long after, the oriole too emerged from the foliage, a perfect double reward.
And then, as if to close the story, a crake stepped gently from the reeds, offering one final gift before retreating into the green.
Here are some glimpses from that unforgettable morning.

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The morning mist still lingered over the lake when the pelican drifted into view, silent and regal. Its reflection floated beside it.
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Below the quiet cityscape, the lake mirrored the pale, cloud-softened sky.
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An Indian Pond Heron broke its stillness with a sudden leap, wings flashing white as it caught a fish.
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The sun rose veiled in gold, slipping through clouds like a shy performer waiting for its cue.
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Bathed in the soft glow of dawn, an Oriental Darter perched still over the shimmering gold of the lake.
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A Grey Heron stood tall beside cormorants drying their wings.
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A pair of Spot-billed Ducks stood quietly on the bank, basking in the calm glow of the morning light.
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A colony of Spot-billed Pelicans gathered noisily atop a tree.
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A close-up glimpse of the small fry caught by the Little Egret a second before the gulp.
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Small fries were caught frequently, but these light snacks only teased the Egret's hunger.
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A nearby Indian Pond Heron also enjoyed the rewards of the morning, managing to catch a small snack of its own.
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A flock of juvenile Great Cormorants moved in, their black forms creating a dark, determined flotilla across the pale water, all focused amazingly on the same stuff, like robots following a single command.
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The odd one always breaks the monotony.
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The real story of the day was the gathering of the birdwatchers itself. Lined up along the path, cameras and massive lenses stood like the sentinels I first noted, a collective of patient eyes and eager hearts, united by the simple, beautiful hope of a Verditer Flycatcher sighting.
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The wait for the elusive Verditer lasted hours. During the long wait, other beautiful sightings provided their own rewards. This elegant White-breasted Waterhen stepped gently onto a low branch.
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A Rose-ringed Parakeet flashed past.
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An Ashy Drongo secured its own prize, with decisive catch and gulp after a quick aerial hunt.
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A White-throated Kingfisher appeared, perched like a king on a thorny branch, a striking distraction, but still no Verditer to break the long wait.
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An Indian Palm Squirrel paused its foraging, sitting perfectly still and looking utterly patient, a peaceful contrast to our own restlessness during the long wait.
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Another welcome distraction from the long wait was watching this industrious White-cheeked Barbet. This patient carpenter was busy at work, excavating its nest hole in a dead trunk.
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Even the Barbet had a schedule. Watching the pair take turns was an unexpected source of fascination: about every 15 minutes, the mate would arrive to take over the rigorous excavation duty while the other would go for a well-deserved break.
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A tiny Scaly-breasted Munia (likely a young one, given its subtle markings) took a momentary rest on a tangle of dry vines.
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And then, a flash of gold fulfilled the promise made in the distance. The Black-naped Oriole finally emerged from the dense canopy, a perfect golden reward after the long morning.
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After hours of patient waiting, after all the distractions and beautiful secondary sightings, it happened. There, on a sun-drenched branch, was the legendary flash of color: the Verditer Flycatcher, radiant in brilliant, impossible blue, the quiet, ultimate reward for all who were willing to wait.
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The Verditer Flycatcher takes flight, a fleeting memory of the ultimate reward.
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The Oriole returned, but this time in motion.
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Just as the day's hunt was declared successful and I walked back to the car, the lake offered one last parting image. A majestic Spot-billed Pelican descended, splash-landing with grace.
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As the morning drew to a close, a Ruddy-breasted Crake stepped gently from the reeds, an unexpected encore before the curtain fell on a perfect morning.
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As I left Saul Kere, the sounds of the morning still echoed around the lake, the chatter of parakeets, the splash of pelicans, the soft rustle of reeds. The Verditer had appeared and gone, but what lingered was the quiet joy of the wait, the shared excitement, and the beauty that unfolds when patience meets hope.
I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

















































































