‘The storm will pass tomorrow. It’s pouring here, and Gujarat is flooded. What should we do?’ Vikramsinh Sodha, our guide, sounded concerned on the phone about how the cyclone might affect our passage migration birding trip to Bhuj, Kutch (Gujarat, India).
‘Give me an hour to check,’ I replied calmly.
After checking the latest weather updates, I found that the storm would pass through Bhuj a day before our arrival. And trains from Ahmedabad to Bhuj were still running, which reassured me.
I called Vikram back. ‘The cyclone will be gone when we arrive. Let’s stick to the plan.’
When we arrived in Bhuj, a light drizzle greeted us. Vikram was waiting at the station. His homestay is about an hour’s drive from the city. Midway, we stopped at a small roadside tea stall. The tea was refreshing, though served in a tiny cup.
I chuckled and told Vikram, ‘I’ll need two more of these—I’m used to drinking tea in a big cup in South India.’
Vikram laughed. ‘No problem!’ He ordered another round of tea. His warm hospitality set the tone for the rest of our trip.
Before we dive into my passage migration birding experience, let me give you a quick overview of bird migration. As winter sets in the northern hemisphere, birds travel south in search of food, shelter, and warmer weather. And in spring, they return to their breeding grounds in the far north, completing this long annual journey. Over 2000 species worldwide undertake this incredible migration!
Birds travelling from eastern Europe and Central Asia to Africa use the Central Asian and Asia–Africa Flyways. India, located on the Central Asian Flyway, is an important stop for millions of migrating birds and, therefore, a paradise for birdwatchers. Its diverse landscapes—wetlands, grasslands, forests, and coasts—offer resting spots for raptors, shorebirds, waterfowl, and passerines along their migration routes; consequently, bird activity peaks in India between autumn and spring.
Gujarat and Rajasthan (neighbour states, northwestern India) are especially important stopovers for migrating birds between August and October. The desert in Rajasthan and Kutch in Gujarat are key locations along the migratory routes where birds take pitstops to rest and refuel (passage migration) before continuing their journey across the Arabian Sea to Africa. These birds are called passage migrants. And we had come to Bhuj to see migratory birds like the European roller, red-backed shrike, spotted flycatcher, and blue-cheeked bee-eater.
After a refreshing breakfast, Vikram gathered us and said, ‘It’s still drizzling, and bird activity is low. Let’s first visit the Kutch Fossil Museum. After lunch, we can head to the Lyari riverbed for landscape photography and birding.’ We agreed.
Having finished lunch, we went to the Lyari landform, a paradise for landscape photography. I captured the rugged beauty to my heart’s content.
Once satisfied with the shots, I shifted my focus to birdwatching. On the riverbed, we spotted a knob-billed duck alongside two lesser whistling ducks against a picturesque backdrop. I quickly adjusted my lens, ensuring the vibrant scenery enhanced their elegance.
As we soaked in the moment, the drizzle returned, gently wrapping the landscape in mist. Reluctantly, we decided to head back to our homestay. A quick check of the weather forecast brought us relief—clear skies the next day!
The second day into our trip, we set off at 7 a.m., heading from Bhimsar Vang Road towards the Rawalpir Dargah Thorn Forest. On the way, we met Siddique, a Fakirani Jat (nomads of Great Rann of Kutch, Gujarat) camel breeder.
Vikram stopped the vehicle to chat, and the conversation naturally shifted to the recent rainfall. Siddique explained how essential the monsoon is for agriculture and livestock. While the urban populace worry about flooding due to poor infrastructure, rains are the lifeline for rural communities.
Arriving at the Rawalpir Dargah Thorn Forest, we parked the jeep and continued on foot. Almost immediately, we spotted a white-tailed Iora, followed by a pair of white-bellied minivets flitting between trees.
A little farther in, we found a yellow-crowned woodpecker and a spotted flycatcher. Staying still near a tree, we watched in silence as the birds drew closer, allowing us to capture some good photos.
As we walked towards a nearby hillock, we came across tribesmen herding camels and sheep. Vikram greeted them warmly, and the conversation again turned to the monsoon. Everyone expressed gratitude for the much-needed rain.
On our way back to the jeep, I noticed clumps of wool scattered under a tree. Curious, I asked Vikram why the wool had been abandoned. And I was saddened to know that synthetic materials have replaced wool in the textile industry, leaving cattle owners without buyers. An old rhyme came to mind: ‘Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?’ The magnitude of change in the past few decades is staggering.
We continued slowly along the forest track. The landscape came alive with subtle movements. A rufous-tailed lark perched motionless on a bed of rocky pebbles, perfectly blending with the earthy tones.
Nearby, a Tawny Lark fluttered briefly before vanishing into the grass. It winters in the Western Ghats and is considered a passage migrant in Gujarat.
A little ahead, an Indian bushlark was resting on a shrub. Since we stayed in the vehicle, the bird remained calm, allowing us to take some stunning shots.
After a relaxing lunch and a short break, we set off again at 3 p.m., this time towards the Banni Grassland. The drive was pleasant. Along the way we spotted the following: a European roller perched on a wire, a brown rock chat hopping on a stone wall, and a group of chestnut-bellied sandgrouse blending seamlessly with the dry terrain.
However, Vikram grew concerned about the impact of the recent rains on the grassland. As we approached, his fears were confirmed—the area was completely flooded, making it impossible to explore further. Undeterred, we decided to make the most of the situation and explore the surrounding wetlands instead.
The waterlogged landscape was teeming with birdlife: River terns were skimming across the water’s surface, a common sandpiper darted along the shoreline, and a little grebe paddled through the still waters. Eurasian spoonbills, Indian spot-billed ducks, and egrets dotted the wetland, creating a vibrant scene.
We observed the birds for some time and then headed towards Paiya Motichur Road. Along the way, we were lucky to spot three painted sandgrouse and a tawny pipit, adding to an already rewarding day of birding.
As night fell, we returned to the thorn forest for nocturnal birding. The stillness of the night was broken only by distant animal calls. In dim lantern light, we saw tribesmen gathered near an enclosure, penning their cattle. Moving quietly past them, we spotted an Indian nightjar and a savanna nightjar, their eyes glinting in the darkness.
On our way back, we spotted a golden jackal. With that, our long and eventful day—marked by exciting sightings and memorable encounters—came to a close.
On the third day, we started off at 7 a.m., carrying our breakfast. Near Bhimsar Lake, a yellow-eyed babbler flitted among the bushes and a common cuckoo perched silently on a wire.
Further down the Piyoni-Nakhatrana Road, we reached an open area alive with activity: Flocks of doves, sparrows, knob-billed ducks, and peacocks animated the scene with their lively interactions. I eagerly scanned the flocks through my camera to capture these moments.
Suddenly, two villagers arrived on a bike, carrying a large sack. They advanced towards the birds and began disbursing grains across the ground. When asked why they did this, they smilingly explained that they had been blessed with an abundant harvest and wanted to share it with the birds.
Their thoughtful gesture reminded me of the beautiful connection between humans and nature.
As we continued along the road, we spotted a European roller resting on a bush. This bird migrates nearly 10,000 kilometres every year, from its breeding grounds in Europe and Asia to sub-Saharan Africa, where it spends the winter.
The landscape had even more avian treasures: a pied cuckoo and a grey-breasted prinia; a majestic Eurasian sparrowhawk gliding overhead; a small minivet adding a pop of colour to the scene; and common woodshrikes and babblers flitting through the shrubs, their constant chatter filling the air. It was a delightful experience from start to finish.
In the evening, sightings became scarcer, but we still encountered a few more species: a short-toed snake-eagle perched on an electric pole, scanning the ground for prey; a Eurasian hoopoe foraging nearby; and a long-tailed shrike, Indian thick-knee, and grey francolin.
Laughing doves, red-collared doves, and Eurasian doves cooed softly in the evening air. As the day wound down, a pair of eastern red-rumped swallows (Daurian swallows) perched nearby, giving us a perfect opportunity to capture some final shots before ending our day.
We started the fourth day at our usual time, 7 a.m. Along our drive, we came across an injured barred buttonquail in the middle of the road, struck by a passing vehicle. Nearby, its partner stood frozen with confusion, seemingly unable to comprehend the tragedy. The scene was heart-wrenching.
Vikram gently lifted the injured bird and placed it by the roadside, knowing it may not survive. Throughout the day, the image of the other buttonquail lingered in my mind. Would it carry on instinctively, or would it suffer a quiet grief? My thoughts felt strangely childlike, filled with empathy for the small creature.
Later, we stopped in a forested area for breakfast. Vikram’s thoughtful packing of food—sturdy tiffin boxes instead of plastic bags—was impressive, reflecting his commitment to sustainable travel. (Sustainable travel is a way of travelling designed to minimize environmental impacts while empowering local communities.) A cup of hot tea added warmth and comfort to our morning ritual. We took care not to leave any waste behind.
Efforts to reduce waste were evident in every detail. Each morning, Vikram packed water bottles filled with tap water from the homestay, avoiding disposable PET bottles throughout the trip. It felt satisfying to tread lightly on the environment while immersing ourselves in nature’s beauty.
After breakfast, we went in search of the elusive European nightjar but had no luck. Instead, a greater whitethroat darted through the underbrush and a common babbler appeared with its catch. A little farther along, an Indian golden oriole brightened the scene with a flash of yellow. Satisfied, we moved on.
Near a water body, the distinctive call of a black francolin echoed. Moments later, the bird rushed into view and just as quickly vanished into the bushes, leaving us thrilled by the brief sighting.
On our way back to the homestay for lunch, we spotted a variable wheatear perched on a branch. We paused to admire it and captured a few photographs before continuing our drive.
After lunch, we visited the nearby Nirona art village, where we explored the vibrant artistic offerings. Later, we returned to birdwatching, eager for more sightings.
Venturing through the scrub jungle, we spotted a jungle cat slinking through the undergrowth. A lucky sighting!
We waited patiently and managed to get some excellent shots as it moved stealthily. Soon after, a rufous-tailed scrub-robin caught our attention. It flitted among the bushes, making photography challenging. We stayed still, observing its behaviour, and after a 20-minute wait, it came close enough to capture some images.
Just before starting the vehicle, we spotted a crested lark nearby. Using the jeep as a hide, we photographed the bird.
Soon after, we caught sight of a delicate prinia perched on a thin twig. As I focused on the bird, I noticed something moving in the undergrowth, like a mouse darting through the grass. Curious, I pointed it out to Vikram, who immediately identified it as an Indian desert jird, a rodent common in the arid landscapes of the region.
After dusk fell, we set out for nocturnal birding, hoping to spot the elusive Eurasian nightjar. Despite careful scanning of the landscape, we found it challenging to find one, since the recent rains had flooded many areas. Just as we were about to give up, we spotted one at a distance. Relieved, we took a record shot before heading to our resting place for the night.
The fifth day, we set out at 6 a.m. to visit the Harappan ruins of Dholavira (a significant site of the Indus valley civilization), with plans to enjoy birding along the way. We drove through the vast Rann of Kutch (a massive area of seasonal salt marshes spanning the border between India and Pakistan). The shimmering water bodies teemed with life: a black-winged stilt wading, a red-wattled lapwing calling nearby, a wood sandpiper darting around, and a black-headed ibis foraging in the muddy shallows.
Farther along, Eurasian spoonbills stood poised, their reflections glimmering on the water; Kentish plovers flitted along the edges; a little stint scurried on the shore; greater flamingos added vibrant pink hues; and a pied avocet swept its upturned bill through the water.
A hoopoe lark perched on a nearby mound, its plumage blending with the earthy backdrop. Unfazed by our presence, it shifted from one foot to the other and tilted its head, as if inviting us to capture its best angles.
After visiting Dholavira, we drove to a nearby restaurant for lunch. On the way we spotted a blue-cheeked bee-eater perched on a branch. Its bright plumage stood out vividly against the lush green background.
On our final day, we woke early for one last morning of birdwatching before heading back to Bhuj to explore the palaces Aina Mahal and Prag Mahal.
We started at a nearby water body, hoping to spot the elusive red-backed and red-tailed shrikes. Unfortunately, neither appeared. However, our spirits lifted when we saw a streaked weaver—a lifer for me! Though I missed both the shrikes in Bhuj, I eventually spotted them during a later trip to Rajasthan.
The red-backed shrike, a carnivorous passerine bird, is renowned for its hunting skills. Often seen perched on exposed branches or wires, scanning for prey, it has a peculiar way of ‘storing’ food: After catching insects or small animals, it impales them on thorns or barbed wires. I was lucky to see a frog skewered on a barbed wire. No wonder the bird is called the butcher bird!
Watching these migratory birds filled me with awe—their extraordinary journeys across continents, oceans, and hemispheres are mind-boggling. They cross borders effortlessly, needing no passports, following ancient flyways and stopping to rest, refuel, breed, or winter.
Vikram was a wonderful host during our 6-day trip through Kutch, guiding us not only to birding hotspots but also to cultural and heritage sites. His deep knowledge of the region, along with strong local connections, enriched our experiences.
When he dropped us at Bhuj railway station, we felt a mix of gratitude and longing. Parting with Vikram was like saying goodbye to a friend. Although the trip was fulfilling, it felt too short, leaving us with the thought that Kutch had more to offer—and that this was just the beginning of a deeper connection to the place.
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