This Is Guernsey

THREE trips around Ranthambhore national park failed to produce views of a tiger for me. (Thanks to those who read my last article for enquiring.)

It was a little embarrassing – a top wildlife tour leader failing to see even a cat’s whisker, while everyone else staying in the luxurious Khem Villas had views of up to three on each of their game drives.

Perhaps I had used up all my luck earlier in the trip around Rajasthan in northern India.

After all, for one brief moment three of the world’s record-holding birds were framed in my binoculars. The fastest, highest migrating and tallest flying birds in the world were together in my view.

Highest is the bar-headed goose, which makes a migration from Tibet and China to India over the Himalayas – they have been seen above Mount Everest at 32,000 feet.

A griffon vulture was sucked into a jet engine at seven miles up – 37,000 feet above the Ivory Coast in west Africa – but that bird was probably just testing its head for heights after getting into a particularly strong up-draught.

Bar-headed geese choose to fly in the rarefied atmosphere above the Himalayas and pilots are warned to look out for them during the migration periods.

About 400 were grazing in fields in front of a luxurious camp I was staying in on the reservoir wall at Chhatra Sagar, between Ajmer and Udaipur.

The camp is on the dam wall of a reservoir built in 1890 and loads of birds have been attracted to the area ever since.

Every so often, the geese took off and flew back to the reservoir, or what remained of it.

The monsoon has been poor in the last two years and the birds were concentrated in an area about the size of one arm of our reservoir in St Saviour’s.

A loud trumpeting call heralded the approach of 10 rare sarus cranes, at 153cm the tallest flying birds, which landed on the bank opposite me.

The birds made up probably three families and, happy with their choice of landing spot, the males soon began displaying.

Cranes ‘dance’ to impress their mates and intimidate the opposition. Two began springing into the air: had I been standing with them, they would have cleared my 1.9m. head. I do not know what the females thought of this spring madness but it certainly impressed me.

Eventually, after a few numbers on the dance floor, the group flew off to join the bar-headed geese.

It was a thrilling sight to see two such special species together on the plains of India.

Cue the entrance of record-holder number three.

A peregrine falcon – the world’s fastest creature at 200km an hour in a hunting dive – appeared overhead, slipped down towards the feeding birds and circled above them.

Such big birds would be impossible for a peregrine to take and they continued feeding while hundreds of feral pigeons which breed in the dam wall went berserk. I’ve never understood why birds that are ideal prey for a peregrine take to the air when one appears.

If they remained on the ground or sitting on their nests, a bird of prey would find it impossible to take one.

Perhaps a big flock of pigeons confuses a peregrine as they wheel around or maybe being one in a hundred makes the chances of being caught acceptable.

This peregrine was not interested in the pigeons, however.

Having circled the cranes and geese, it flew away over a nearby wood.

My party and I had enjoyed visiting the Taj Mahal and exploring the amazing city of Jaipur.

The former is, of course, one of the great sights of the world and generates much excitement among visitors. It is busy, noisy and the air quality is poor.

Jaipur was founded by Jai Singh I, a brilliant mathematician and astronomer who translated the works of Greek scholars such as Euclid and Ptolemy into Indian.

His observatory in Jaipur is astounding (some instruments are accurate to 20 seconds), as is the city itself, which Jai Singh designed in a grid system. It too is a hive of activity.

We had travelled hundreds of miles on India’s chaotic roads and the luxurious camp came as a welcome relief.

It was founded by Thakur Chhatra Singh of Nimaj, a powerful seigneur of the desert kingdom of Marwar (Jodhpur). He decided to dam a seasonal stream flowing through his estate in the late 19th century. His vision was to create a reservoir that would harvest the monsoon rains.

It was an ambitious project and a great drain on his resources but Thakur Chhatra Singh remained determined.

The dam was completed in 1890 and changed dry scrub of the area into prime agricultural land. Farmers struggling for sustenance on parched lands were invited by Thakur Chhatra Singh to settle around the reservoir, named Chhatra Sagar after him.

Their descendants are still there growing crops in an area previously uninhabitable.

Indeed, our peaceful nights were occasionally disturbed by farmers’ calls as they attempted to keep blue-bulls (the local name for nilgai, an antelope which resembles the wildebeest of Africa) from their wheat crops, which were almost ready for harvesting.

By the early 20th century, Chhatra Sagar had developed into a lush green oasis. With its wide-open spaces and enchanting views, it became a popular entertainment venue.

Hunting parties with high tea and exotic dinners became a regular feature as guests of Thakur Chhatra Singh came to shoot antelopes, wild boar, geese and ducks in numbers.

A fresh luxury tented camp was created for each party and for many dignitaries visiting Nimaj, Chhatra Sagar camp was the highlight. It was for me, too.

Article posted on 9th April, 2009 - 4.51pm