on pestering offspring…

all the avifauna i’ve chased has been nothing more than perchance, blips  of colour that make one stop awhile and fall around before hankering  back on to the task at hand, which at most times comprises of Point A to  Point B in the shortest, safest possible time… the rare times i’ve  tried to resolutely go birding and birding alone, researching lists,  pin-pointing habitats and all the rigmarole  that goes into tracing  flicks and flights… there have always been two in the bush determined  not to let the shutterbug be… birding for me, i surmise thus, is a  matter of serendipity…

to emphasise the case in point, i basked in the sun all through the day at the base camp of Stok Kangri in 2015,  having summited early morning and now gloating around despite a  splitting headache and loss of appetite… unless the weather gods deem it  so, we seldom take a rest day while trekking through the higher climes,  and it was a hitherto unknown feeling having the opportunity of loafing  around the camp with no chores at hand…

so after a good four hour nap, i woke up to a sunlit afternoon, perfect  light to tote the camera around for a while… while the higher climes try  to remain maturely grim to remind one of the gamut of dangerous  scenarios that can crop up in a matter of minutes, there always remain  patches where life carries on anyway, unperturbed by all the trials and  tribulations of unforgiving, indelible elements… but as it has to be,  save a few noisy Choughs and a rather bored looking White-capped redstart… nothing came to punctuate the windy massif, the Marmots all nibbling around at a safe distance and the Robin accentors  that had been flocking around in decent numbers having taken to another  valley… having seen the summit, the dejection was not that great, and  so we went back into the sleeping backs, in dreams of hot chicken and a  warm bath…

the next morning, though, we were  literally up with the lark… and offspring hackling the parent in  unabashed sonority, the visibly worried bird scraping across the little  shavings of grass hoping for a reprieve… off and on they skipped with  the fare, till a meal was scored… the child closed its eyes in reared  gratitude as it was spoon-fed…

the next morning, though, we were  literally up with the lark… and offspring hackling the parent in  unabashed sonority, the visibly worried bird scraping across the little  shavings of grass hoping for a reprieve… off and on they skipped with  the fare, till a meal was scored… the child closed its eyes in reared  gratitude as it was spoon-fed…

…every darned time… i murmured getting up from the ground to pack up and rush down to the comforts of homestays…

the Horned Lark is a  widespread songbird spread across fields, deserts and tundra, foraging  for insects and seeds in the thin shrubberies… the adult male has a  distinct black band looking like a pair of horns on the head… 

Horned Lark (Eremophila alpestris) male with juvenile, Stok Kangri Base Camp, Ladakh Himalayas, Aug 2015

Source : www.traveltravailsandheck.com/2017/02/on-pestering-offspring.html