Fishing in the Desert

We are five anglers in an old SUV heading out South from Jaipur. It is a March morning some years ago, and our destination is a Dam on a major seasonal river a few hours away. The trip has been cobbled together at short notice and our hosts are only indirectly known to us, but they are local bigwigs and we hope we can depend on them to get us to the right spots on the river and host us for the night. None of us have actually fished in this area before so our chances are uncertain. Which is actually one way of doing such a trip, and we end up having great fun !

Our target naturally is the Mahseer (Barbus tor), but there should also be Silund (Silonia silondia) and Sowal (Ophicephalus striatus) – all of which do take artificial lures likes spinners, spoons and plugs. These rivers also harbour enormous Goonch (Bagarius bagarius) down in the bottom of deep pools. Tales of fish caught over the years are traded as the beer starts flowing by 11 am. D christens me ‘Kalbeliya’ for the trip, I presume for the printed black shirt I have on. I dare not complain. D is the biggest of our Party. He is a very big gentleman and surely double my size and can whack the golf ball 300 yards with a 3-iron. My miseries are compounded when cigarette smoke fills the car – I don’t smoke but all my companions do. Traffic is fairly heavy and we make slow progress. We are stuck behind a truck which sports a colourful painting of a buxom young lady, and printed beneath is ‘ZALIM JATNI’. This prompts someone to jump out at the next village to buy a CD with Rajasthani folk songs. One particular ditty with a decidedly bucolic and bawdy flavour is the favorite. Now we are really in the groove.

We arrive at the RV point and are met by our hosts, two brothers. Excellent, they have lunch packed in a big tiffin box and are keen to move straight on to the river. The younger brother is driving their car, a brand new sedan made by the Americans in India. We follow in his wake as he blasts through the traffic in town. Soon the tarmac disappears and we are on a rough track as we approach the river. Stones and mud are effortlessly negotiated at high speed by our Rally Driver, and we are soon left far behind. Anyway we can’t get lost since the track leads straight down to the water. We cross the river over an old stone bridge built on arches which is often fully submerged in the monsoon.

Our hosts have commandeered a boat and we tuck into lunch sitting by the rough jetty. Fiery mutton curry and rotis. Additional hot green chillies for some. A group of Cormorants are beating for fish in the shallows. They flap their wings splashing the surface and draw a semi-circle closer to the bank. Small fish thus herded are then quickly scooped up when the circle closes.

We start to get our fishing tackle together. Light rods and spinning reels. The boatman has to be cajoled to get going - I suspect he wants more money. Once we are actually cruising over the placid surface we realize that the banks are now moving further and further away as the river fans out. The dammed river has created a huge lake and all around is water. Ducks are common, but the waders on the sandbanks are already too far away to identify.

We start casting from the boat, careful not to impale the spectators with the steel barbs on the lures. No luck. I change lures. We cut the outboard motor, thinking this could be disturbing fish around the boat. Still not a single bite. One rod tries running the lure deep. We try trolling as the boat is rowed forward.

Our Rally Driver has been observing all this quite patiently. He now decides to break out a fresh bottle of whisky ! Steel mugs are passed around. Our boatman has a resigned look on his face.

As we drift closer to the dam, which is still several miles away, we pass the first of the fishing boats. These are similar to our own, flat-bottomed and sturdy. The fishing teams are all Bengalis. Loincloths and vests are standard attire. Our hosts hail one over. They approach reluctantly. The Fishing Contractor’s name is bandied about and a few fish are demanded to be handed over. Quite clearly fish is on the menu for dinner and our hosts appear not to have any faith in our ability to catch any today. Soon we have a few choice specimens drawn forth from the hold of the fishing boat and deposited flapping into ours. But the Captain of the unlucky boat wants some assurance that he will be compensated. So an IOU is signed on the wrapper of a Bidi packet.

As we return to the bridge we notice that several of the stone piers have youngsters perched on ledges jutting over the water. They all have lines dangling using some kind of bait on single hooks. On the bank an Army officer is calmly pulling out fish after fish – he already has a sackful of small ones !

What have we been doing wrong ? The sun is well set and light is fading as we decide to now fish along the bank. Suddenly my line is pulled heavily and I am on. I am careful playing the fish as I only have a 8 lbs. line. But after the first pull the fish allows itself to be reeled in relatively tamely. I know I do not have either a mahseer or silund as they are fierce fighters. But as soon as I drag it up the sandbank below the bridge, the length of the fish prompts someone watching to call out in the vernacular – that’s a big one! Music to any angler’s ears. It is a 12 lbs. Lanchi (Wallagonia attu) – almost 41/2 ft. long. This is the fresh-water shark. I am very careful removing the lure which it has swallowed deep. It has a huge flat mouth which is armed with small, thin razor-sharp teeth.

Soon the other rods are also into fish but only more Lanchi for today. I try to false-hook one of the bamn (eels) which curl through and around the vegetation in the shallows just off the bank but without success. We have fish, and so partly damaged egos now placated we decide to call it a day.

Our hosts are gracious in putting two rooms at their Haveli at our disposal. A bacchanalian evening is enlivened with many jokes and much conviviality. The freshly caught fish and the pirated fish are prepared into delicious dry kebabs and a passable curry. Just before dinner the lights in the village go out. It is a power cut. We may have to eat in the dark and then sleep without fans. Not when you have the Rally Driver around ! And he owns this place. When a few phone calls do not elicit the proper response from the Power Sub-Station, he is off again in the car muttering dire warnings. The lights come right back on in a few minutes.

Of course we had adjourned at night resolving to get to the river at dawn. No chance of that. Morning blues after all the fun the night before is inevitable. We are only able to get to another spot on the river downstream of the dam by 9 am. This area is quite interesting. Many pools line the bank of the original rivercourse. The limpid shallow water is clear enough for us to see fish swimming lazily. Reeds and bull rushes line the islands. A kingfisher flashes past to a perch overlooking the water. It is a Stork-billed Kingfisher, one of the rarest of our Kingfishers from these parts. A Bronze-winged Jacana steps gingerly over lily pads always staying close to cover.
We try a few casts here but there are too many places to get the lure snagged and the fish are not biting. So we head back to our spot near the Bridge from the evening before and manage to catch a few more Lanchi. Then it is time to bid our hosts goodbye and we head back to Jaipur

Rambles around Amer

It is the pre-dawn hour in early September 2010 and I am headed out towards the Amer hills north of Jaipur. This year the Monsoon has gathered pace in August and is forecast to continue bringing rain through much of this month. As I drive past the Amer Fort I am stunned by the spectacle of low rolling clouds obscuring the higher ramparts of this magnificent structure. Through the open windows faint tendrils of moisture laden mist waft past my face. The first bird sounds of the morning appear curiously muffled.

I am meeting up with Udaijit at his Dera Amer, and he has also invited Madhav, who is a keen Naturalist. I have not met Madhav , even though we have both visited here before separately. Soon I have turned onto the rough track that winds its way to the Camp. The light is already stronger and bird activity is picking up. Udaijit has often seen a Dusky Eagle Owl on its favourite perch just off the track, and even though I remember to scan all these likely roosts and perches today, I have yet to add this species to my personal list.

We meet at the Camp and introductions are made over a cup of Masala Chai. We are sitting by the Elephant Polo grounds and I pick out the movement of a small bird beyond the main Gate on a Babool tree. It is whistling a dulcet sounding half-familiar call. Quickly I check it with the binoculars. The bright yellow, black and white plumage and size could only mean one of the Ioras. We walk across briskly, Madhav is armed with a sophisticated lens on his Canon. But the Iora is hidden from view in the fresh greenery. At that moment an adult Oriental Honey Buzzard flies closer low to the ground, and we notice another much smaller juvenile. Now the Ioras shows themselves, it is a pair, and they are gathering nest material. From the white edges to tail feathers we know these are the Marshall’s Iora, a rare endemic. What a great start to the day !

My companions are enthusiastic and we feed off each others energy. Udaijit is still recovering from a horrific road accident and I think this is one of his first outings since. Despite our protestations to allow one of us take the wheel, he insists on driving his Jeep. Just outside the property we notice a large Cuckoo perched on the low wire fencing. Madhav gets some good photos and only later are we able to identify it properly as a juvenile Eurasian Cuckoo. There are a pair of Long-tailed Shrikes close by, and I do know that this species is often the foster parents of the Cuckoo.

Within a few minutes we enter the Nahargarh Bio-diversity Forest, as I believe it is now called. We have been here before, but none of us can believe the transformation brought about by the copious rains. Where there were sun-scorched acacias and other hardy dry deciduous trees with their gnarled trunks and sparse thorny foliage, now the fresh branches thrust upwards clothed in sparkling green. Dusty boulders are now hidden by lush wavy grasses, many topped with small yellow flowers on stems. Several bushes have these incredibly beautiful flowers, the scarlet and yellow petals curling upwards like twisting flames, and the horizontal stamens shooting outwards like the points of a star. We later identify these as Gloriosa superba or Glory Lily, and apparently they are deadly poisonous. I’m glad we didn’t pluck any since even handling the flower can cause severe skin irritation I later read.

Just inside the forest, as the path twists past a saddle between two hills there is a dumping ground for bones from the Animal Rescue Centre. From previous visits I know this is a good birding spot if you can stand the smell. We do see several Pied Cuckoos, Blue-cheeked Bee-eaters and European Rollers amongst other common birds. My best sighting here has been that of a Red-tailed Wheatear in April 2009. In the distance one can occasionally hear the Centre’s Tigers and Lions (rescued from the Circus after legislation banned animal performances). There is also a Tigon, he is huge with paws as big as dinner plates. And the bones at this dump are not from animals at the Centre dying of old age, they are from the leftover meals brought daily for the big cats !


As we wind our way deeper into the forest we come across several natural springs, the fresh water bubbling forth from cracks between lichen-covered rocks. This once common sight in the hills had all but disappeared for the past few near-drought years. As we climb a steep hill an unfamiliar looking raptor is disturbed and it flies off to a perch further away. We are careful not to get out of the Jeep and it allows us to approach closer. It is a Buzzard for sure, but all of us think it is somewhat large for a White-eyed Buzzard (which we have all seen before). Later checking of the photos, the dark gular stripe on whitish throat and the diagnostic white eyes confirm the sighting as the WEB. Another good bird is identified as the Black-headed Cuckoo-Shrike. It is quite shy and just does not allow one to get inside its comfort zone for close observation.

After a couple of wrong turns we finally find the right approach track to Aodhi Ram Sagar. Here a series of seasonal rivulets debouch down from the surrounding Amer and Nahargarh hills into small lakes leading towards this superbly located Shooting Lodge. There are also two old Shooting Towers made for the Jaipur Royalty. These command a wide field of fire, now of course the views are fabulous. I can almost picture in my mind’s eye how the game would have been driven down by beaters to the waiting guns. The main Lodge overlooks a small lake. Perhaps Royal Ladies would have had occasion to shoot downwards (from the relative safety of the high turret) at a Tiger or a Leopard drinking water in the late evening many decades ago ? While the gentlemen would have hunted on elephant back further afield armed with heavy bore rifles?

We have seen excellent birds here including the rare endemic White-naped Tit, White-capped Buntings and Paradise Flycatchers. This is also a good area for several raptors. Tawny Eagles apparently breed in the crags above. We have observed Steppe Eagles (5 individuals together once). Long-legged Buzzards are occasionally seen. Last year there was a juvenile Eurasian Griffon that was severely dehydrated and had to be rescued, cared for and later released in the wild. I have also seen Common Kestrel, and once the absolutely fantastic Eurasian Hobby. Surprisingly this was at about 11 am, unusual for the Hobby because they are largely crepescular. This little Falcon gave us a spectacular flight display of high speed stoops, driven with quick wing beats and diving with his long narrow wings folded back and sudden jinking turns.

We have now been rambling for hours and my stomach is rumbling. So when Udaijit suggests we head back to the Camp for breakfast, we concur quickly. Particularly since from previous visits I know that meals at the Camp are always splendid. Soon we are tucking into platters piled with two-eggs sunny-side-up, crispy bacon rashers, juicy sausages, baked beans and oven-fresh bread. All washed down with freshly brewed coffee. Ah ! This is the kind of birding I like.

Madhav shows us some of the photos he has taken today, and many are stunning. The light too has been friendly and many of the compositions are worth framing I am sure.

Udaijit tells us of the extraordinary incident involving 4 Bar-headed Geese making a surprise touchdown in the middle of the floodlit Elephant Polo ground on a winter’s night. Luckily this was between Chukkers (else they would have been trampled by the eles)! He describes them as appearing somewhat disoriented but not unduly alarmed. This was the night of 21st January 2009 and inevitably there was fog and clouds in the sky. Obviously the birds got confused in the fog and decided to come down and have a closer look at this pool of light in the middle of the forest. I have read of birds getting disoriented in similar conditions and crashing into lighthouses on the shoreline, but I do not know of a similar case as this. Yes, the story ends well, and the Geese team soon flew away unharmed.

Just as we must fly away today from this cracker of a weekend outing, till we meet again with tales of other trips …