Lone Warrior: An Encounter with the Grey-headed Fish Eagle | Evolve Back Kabini

It had only been ten minutes since we steered away from the monstrous mugger that was lazing on the riverbank. As our experienced boatman scanned the perimeter for movement, our naturalist quietly pointed at the solo Smooth-coated otter curled by on a mound. His eyes were locked on us, with a hint of frown, and exasperation lining his furry face.

Kabini is more than a river. The river is a complete ecosystem that allows predators to coexist and cohabit peacefully. The mugger crocodiles, smooth coated otters and the raptors of Kabiniare some of the finest hunters in this part of India. Among the raptors I must mention the rather solitary and majestic Grey headed fish eagle. With eyes as sharp as its claws the stocky bird perches close to the waterbody and swoops down in a flash to prey.

The hard afternoon sun in our faces was almost unbearable now. I pulled my cap tighter, imagining it would shade my face a bit better. The guest next to me had his binoculars glued to his face - it was his third and last boat safari and he was determined to spot the fish eagle. My observation of him told me that he was likely to make guttural sounds of disapproval when we failed a good sighting. Alternatively, he would exclaim “That’s it!” if something came within his binocular-vision. I continued to look in the distance, hoping to spot a herd of elephants swimming across the river. But my ears pricked when my fellow safarist jumped up with excitement and threw a volley of incoherent sounds at us! “There! There! On that branch…”, he exclaimed to the Naturalist, with his finger pointing to the northeast. Sure enough, there it was! A gorgeous grey brown individual, with a distinctive grey head and pale-yellow eyes was staring right into our souls. It was incredibly beautiful but intimidating as well. That look it wore!

The ways of the wild are never random. On the contrary they are structured and practiced across generations.

We turned off the engine of our boat and sat patiently waiting for the fish eagle to make a move. On the opposite bank there was a leafless tree, bare and brown, hosting a flock of darters. With the occasional white throated kingfisher thrown in, to add colour to the somber frame. The individuals took turns to fish, while others came up to dry their wings. It was interesting to note that none of these birds encroached upon the fish eagle’s space. It was as if the bird had marked his territory!

The lone raptor, like a tiger, preferred to hunt and feast solo. All the action on the other bank left him unfazed. His short legs moved only slightly as his body stirred into action after a long wait. There was something moving in the water, close to the surface. Anticipating the dramatic “live kill sequence” that was about to unfold, I reached for my camera, in hope that I would be able to set it up just in time. But in vain! “Bravo!” my fellow safarist bellowed and stood up, with the binoculars still glued to his face. The boat rocked gingerly and our Naturalist shot warning signs to us immediately - nobody should leave their seats! By the time I could look up from my camera to the Naturalist back to my fellow safarist and then to the bird in action - the deed was done! In a flash the hunt was over.

As I peered through my telephoto lens and locked focus on the fish eagle the bird seemed to be halfway through his meal. Tearing sinew by sinew, bit by bit, its talons dug in with precision every time. Watching the bird feast killed my appetite, for some odd reason.

On our long ride back to the park entrance we saw some terns gliding dangerously close to the golden water, shimmering at dusk. Far above us was a flock of black kites, locked in a double helix formation, rising slowly higher and higher with the wind.

For miles around silence echoed off the forests that lined the river. And wherever the river bends, there sits a bird on a branch with an epic story to tell.

Continue your booking