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Morning at Katka
It is the morning of our last day deep inside Sundarban Reserve Forest. Having found and photographed what we came for, we are now more relaxed in our explorations. From our launch, anchored in Katka near the mouth of Betmor Gang river where it meets the Bay of Bengal, we scan the directions. To one side flows Jamtoli Khal, a canal famous for birds and wildlife. But at this moment, when the sun struggles to overcome the fog, a long stretch of waterfront along the west bank of the river, covered by mature keora trees, looks particularly attractive. The muddy ground is covered with spiky mangrove roots and we can make out deer wandering among the keoras.
Our launch has towed a small rowboat, useful for silently traversing Sundarban's waters. We quickly board it and approach the bank. Along with the deer are monkeys and birds. We spot a lesser adjutant, the largest bird in Bangladesh. It stands at the edge, its feet treading water, a few threads of hair on its bald head, its huge beak probing the shallows for food.
The deer show no fear at our approach. Some stand up on their hind legs to reach the lowest keora leaves. Out here, deer act like nature's pruning shears. They immaculately prune the keora trees, the crown bottoms levelled perfectly at the height deer can reach.
The adjutant, meanwhile, tires of fishing at water's edge and aimlessly wanders inland. Then it stops and stares into the distance, its beak poised at a 45 degree angle, wondering which direction to turn. Slowly disappearing into the deep shadows inland, its dark colour, awkward shape and gawky movements create a primordial scene.
The sun has broken through the veil of fog and we see shorebirds playing in the sunlight among the pencil-shaped keora roots. They wear drab colours,
but their action is lively. Four redshanks - identified by their red legs - play with each other before taking off. A curlew steps through a dense patch of roots, its long curved beak poking the mud. Not to be outdone, a whimbrel with a slightly smaller beak also gets into the act. The birds look similar but next to each other the whimbrel is smaller.
A black-capped kingfisher, a winter migrant to this land, perches on a low branch, its brilliant blue plumage shimmering in the sunlight, before it dives into a puddle. It returns to the perch in a flash, waits for a minute or so, then dives again, swishing in the water. This fellow is recharging from a morning bath before starting its daily hunt.
A monkey descends and sniffs the ground near the water. It pulls something from the ground and eats it. Keora roots adjacent to water are tender and edible for monkeys. It then walks along the water's edge, and a little egret joins in. The two friends walk together along the line where water meets land, monkey on land, egret on water, each picking its breakfast.
Near a massive keora trunk we catch bright flickers: several great tits, small, active, black-and-white birds, are hunting on the ground. They hop from one pencil root to another, perching momentarily to swallow their catch. A small flock of orange minivets magically appears on the lower leaves of the same tree. They are acrobatic birds, bending into impossible shapes while looking for insects, worms and larvae stuck to the leaves.
And so life unfolds on just another day in Sundarban. For us watching silently from the boat, it is a special day and we feel blessed to bear witness.
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