Why birdwatching at Karmali Lake in the morning is a misty wildlife spectacle

We reach at about 8 am to find Karmali (Carambolim) lake in Goa still slumbering under a coverlet of smoky blue mist, softening the outlines of the trees. Ahead on a stalk sticking out of the water a white-throated kingfisher fluffs up, watching the surface intently. It is one of several we meet that morning. With their wicked grins and dangerous red dagger bills, chocolate brown and white waistcoats they have the glamour of playboys and we see one dive in and emerge with a little silver fish which it proceeds to bash senseless on a branch before swallowing, looking very pleased with its breakfast.

At first all seems pretty quiet and then as always, the birds begin to show. Shiny green bee-eaters are everywhere, launching sallies after invisible insects and vanishing as they perch on low green stalks near the water. It is astonishing how well their disappearing trick works. Over the lake, swallows patrol swiftly, sleek in blade blue and white, and amidst the waxy water hyacinth pairs of purple swamphens, move clumsily, their sealing wax red bills and frontal shields incongruous with the lovely shot purples and blues of their plumage: they preen carefully showing off their feathers to advantage in the early morning light. They have relatively small heads perched on big cushiony bodies, and move about on the plants with enormous spidery feet and with an irritable squawk will take off clumsily, long legs dangling before more or less crash landing in the reeds ahead.

Birdwatching (Photo: Ranjit Lal)

What stuns you however is a bronze-winged jacana that materialises suddenly at the very edge of the water, brilliantly spotlit by the sun. Its metallic bronze-green body shines as if just polished, the blue-black head beautifully offset by the brilliant white stripe behind the eye, making it look for all the world like a turbaned prince; it vanishes in a trice behind the aquatic vegetation.

At the edge of the water, you spot a shrike (long-tailed?) masked as an executioner waiting quietly before dropping into the undergrowth.

The diamond bright sunlight makes even the little egrets stand out blazing white against the dark, forest green of the trees. In contrast a black drongo poses, jet black and looking like it has been freshly lacquered. A gorgeous purple heron, in brandy, resin and ash wafts across slowly and with immense dignity before vanishing into the trees. It is sensible to look up at the sky every now and then. Even so, you only usually catch the birds as they fly past you – juvenile darters, slim and sharp as skewers, in white and grey flying across in pairs, little cormorants in witch-black. A marsh harrier hurries past its eyes fixed on the water and vanishes before you can appreciate it properly. A pied kingfisher whizzes overhead, its dagger bill and eyes also pointed downwards at the water.

A chorus of squeaky whistles break the silence and before you know it, a flock of whistling teal has gone past you and over the trees never to be seen again! A snow-white tern of some kind flutters away like a big, panicked butterfly and yet again you wonder why these birds must but always fly away from you instead of towards you! A Brahminy kite with a large twig in its beak vanishes into the trees – this is its breeding season, and later, you find another perched in the canopy gravely contemplating life — and watching you with interest.

Karmali Lake birdwatching experience (Photo: Ranjit Lal)

You have been scanning the lake from time to time and quickly spot what looks like a log of wood floating in the water. Crocodile! This one is not very large but minutes later you see an absolute giant, which I christen King Kong of Karmali, at first lying doggo, with just its head and enormous carunculated back and tail visible, before it begins to move with astonishing speed, leaving a widening wake in its trail. All in all, you see around three or four crocodiles here this morning, which keep distracting you from the birds. Sadly, it is still too hazy over the water for a sharp picture. But the fishing must be good at Karmali, which is, let’s not forget, a man-made lake designed for irrigation purposes.

In the woodland abutting the lake, you meet your old friend the paradise flycatcher, which you have met here before. This one is under four years old, still clad in rufous and white and vanishes into the canopy quickly. Last year you had spotted a snow-white one cavorting in the company of a splendid racket-tailed drongo. There’s another little fellow with a bright sulfur breast, that vanishes before you can get a good look at it – but that is the way birding goes.

There is a watchtower here overlooking the water, manned by a magpie robin pair who you met here last year, but the whole place, and the signboard with information about the area, seems neglected and forgotten: There were several posts sticking out of the water which made perfect lookout spots for kingfishers and bee-eaters – today there was only one. You meet two small groups of birders (all foreigners), one of who says he spotted an osprey (you had last year) as well as the pied avocet and bar-tailed godwit. Another asked if I had seen any owls, alas no such luck. It would be worth coming here purely for the woodland birds, which are so much harder to winkle out.

But with King Croc patrolling the water it would perhaps be best if you paid your respects to him first before he decided to head to the shore to teach you some manners!