Birdwatching around the Coffee Forests of Coorg | Evolve Back Coorg

Gentle drizzles. Soft rain on large leaves. The soothing hum of lush forests. This is how my Coorg morning greeted me.

Layer by layer of sound, the sun rose above the misty hills. I sat still by the lake with my steaming cup and opened my ears to the sounds around me. The fish bubbles in the water, the rain on the damp soil, and the distant drumming of a woodpecker weaved a soundscape that drew me into a meditation. But my watch beeped a gentle reminder that it was time to go! I put my nature journal down, looked at the lake once more and turned to leave.

The Chikkana Halli Estate, at Evolve Back Coorg, has one of the most lust resorts in all of Karnataka. As the buggy rolled along the estate I couldn’t help but strain my neck to look up at the towering trees! At the reception area I was greeted with warm smiles and the in-house Naturalist came forward to brief me on my first ever birding session here at the estate!

We set out in gum boots as the idea of a rainwashed nature trail excited me. I learned from our Naturalist that unlike modern plantations the Chikkana Halli Estate preserves the traditional method of cultivating coffee beneath a dense forest canopy. Across 300 acres of fragrant spice plants and shrubs stood towering Silver Oaks (Grevillea robusta) like elegant sentinels, their delicate foliage allowing just enough filtered sunlight to nourish the crop below. Pepper vines spiralled gracefully up their trunks, while spreading Terminalia trees formed an even higher canopy that cooled the plantation, prevented soil erosion and created nesting sites for countless birds.

As we made our way further into the plantation I noticed how it looked more like a wild tropical forest than a man-made coffee estate! Along the edges I noticed different wild flowers and two plants that are believed to have medicinal uses. Wild figs and jackfruit offered seasonal feasts for frugivores.

The “forest” announced its inhabitants long before they became visible. I was asked to keep my lips sealed, ears open and eyes sharp. And for good reason! As the sun peeked over the clouds, the rain stopped and our winged wonders were up and about. The Whistling School Boys or Malabar Whistling Thrushes sang their flute-like melodies from hidden perches, Puff-throated Babblers called softly from the deep shade beneath giant rosewoods, while Golden Orioles flashed through the fresh reddish foliage of Terminalia trees. Barbets, drongos and bulbuls added their own voices to the dawn chorus. Every few minutes our naturalist would stop, listen carefully, and point towards a movement or call that would otherwise have escaped my notice. He told me that Coorg is home to 25% of India’s bird species!

A deep rustling in the canopy made me jump and turn around. Through my binoculars I looked for feathers but ended up with fur! A Malabar Giant Squirrel was staring blankly back at me. For a few long minutes he sat still, soaking the sun, with his fluffy tail twitching occasionally. I pointed it out to my Naturalist and we shared a good laugh.

Then, without warning, the peaceful morning erupted into chaos. Cackling and screeching. A series of loud, piercing calls echoed overhead, immediately drawing our attention to the crown of a towering oak. Some scenes leave us speechless but this one made me curious. We found ourselves watching nearly a dozen Malabar Parakeets (Psittacula columboides), one of the Western Ghats' most beautiful endemic birds in a frenzy!

The grey dull monsoon sky was in perfect contrast to their emerald-green bodies and their long bluish tails streamed behind them as they darted through the canopy. “What is happening up there?” I whispered to the Naturalist who was still assessing the scene intently.

The males' distinctive red upper mandibles flashed every time they banked sharply in flight. It was far from a gentle feeding scene. The flock seemed rather alert and agitated. The birds circled the same tree over and over, calling loudly while shooting aggressively towards a nearby perch.

We traced their movements and finally spotted the cause of the commotion—a large raptor, possibly a Crested serpent eagle, barely balancing himself on a thin branch.

Hidden within the oak was a nesting cavity, possibly with chicks, and the parakeets were determined to defend it.

What unfolded next was one of the most extraordinary examples of cooperative behaviour I have witnessed among birds. Neither did the birds fly away to save themselves nor did the parents abandon the nest - on the contrary the flock came together in a coordinated defence. Small groups repeatedly swooped towards the predator from different directions, forcing it to remain alert while others maintained a constant chorus of alarm calls. Every approach by the raptor was met with another wave of shrieking, fast-flying parakeets. The nest was safe.

We stood awe-struck, in our tracks, below. I was completely captivated by the scene. Eventually, after enduring relentless harassment, the raptor finally took flight and disappeared beyond the plantation. The parakeet army had declared their victory. For now.

As we carried on deeper into the estate, another icon occupied our thoughts. And conversations.

Since the previous day I had repeatedly heard the unmistakable cackling calls of the Malabar Grey Hornbill (Ocyceros griseus) echoing across the neighbourhood but, despite rigorous efforts, failed to find the bird. As we walked softly, muddy step after step, the calls rang out once again, somewhere beyond the plantation.

The Naturalist paused, listened carefully, and pointed to the west. He had located the bird! I could barely hold my excitement as I part-sprinted, crisscrossing many shrubs for odd shortcuts. A few frogs jumped out of my way in fright! But by the time we appeared at the spot, the bird had left. The hornbill seemed determined to remain cloaked by the canopy, each burst of laughter-like notes still echoing across. “He’s mocking us!” laughed our Naturalist.

Then, in a heartbeat, our patience was rewarded.

On a high and rather clean branch, he was perched perfectly - the magnificent male Malabar Grey Hornbill. Even from a distance, his long curved bill and unmistakable silhouette stood out against the dark foliage. I glued the binoculars to my eyes and studied him carefully. He looked towards us, surveyed the forest calmly and then hopped towards a fruiting branch. With remarkable precision, he plucked each fruit individually, tossed it back and finally swallowed it whole. We stood so still I could not hear my own breath. He stretched his neck and released another loud series of cackling calls that echoed across the valley before launching into a smooth, powerful flight to another tree. And there he met his mate! What a sighting!

Unlike the excitable parakeets, the hornbill carried himself with quiet confidence. Watching him move through the canopy revealed why these birds are among the Western Ghats' most important seed dispersers. Every fruit swallowed would later be deposited elsewhere in the forest, helping regenerate the very trees that sustain countless other species.

As we walked back through the plantation, the scenes of the morning flashed in my mind’s eye. How incredible it was to find so much packed into a couple of hours on a casual trail around the estate! Imagine what lies beyond!

The sun was blooming above us now and the butterflies and damselflies were up and about. By now my brain had convinced me that we were hiking in a “real” living forest, where ancient trees, carefully cultivated coffee and extraordinary wildlife cohabit in remarkable harmony. It dawned upon me finally that in landscapes where people have learned to work with nature rather than against it, wonders happen daily. Quietly.

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