Soon after we had gone past a woolly-necked stork hoisted high up a cluster of rocks on an island and enjoying a commanding view of the surroundings, we drew abreast of a little cormorant sunning on a short stump in the water not far from the Nagarhole-side bank, and there appeared at first to be nothing unusual. It was only when the bird adjusted its footing, and turned by right angles to make itself more comfortable, that the epiphany hit us: it was actually standing on an Indian black turtle!

Whether it was fully cognisant of or blissfully oblivious of the level of animation of its perch, we couldn’t initially tell, but before long, the turtle, also called the Indian pond terrapin, mustered the gumption to slowly put its head out, looking up at the cormorant’s tail, which was directly overhead, as if to ask ‘Do you mind moving your rump off my face?’.

Others of a more placid imagination interpreted it as a pleased look, expressing approval at the cormorant’s service in regulating the temperature by providing just the right amount of shade, by eclipsing the shell with its dark plumes.

The bird, registering the turtle’s subtle stirring, folded up its wings (hitherto outstretched in its quintessential style of hanging its diving suit out to dry) turned around so that it was no longer in a contrarian direction to the turtle, stooped down and brought its beak very close to the reptilian’s head, in rather the fashion of someone stubbornly asserting themself, ill-inclined to discussion.

Moments later, when the turtle meekly retracted its head into its shell almost apologetically for having asked the question, it became clear which way the momentary dispute of percher priority had swung.

Inter-family interactions are a treat to watch, as there is often something unexpected when they come together, but this taught me a life lesson, even: that if you sat around basking in the sun doing nothing, you’d be sat upon sooner than later!

Motoring further, we saw a lingering gaur cow grazing on the shoulder of a stretch of the bank on the Bandipura side. A massive herd of spotted deer, scattered loosely, formed the foreground. Further downstream, a young male elephant helped himself to a drink at the water’s edge while a darter eyed him closely from a nearby stump.

Santosh Saligram

Santosh Saligram is a writer, editor, photographer, designer and content-and-communications strategist from Bengaluru, who is enamoured with ‘all things sentient' and the tragically futile effort of capturing their magic through creative media. Santosh describes himself as a 'pen-and-camera-wielding raconteur', for his style involves narrating a story in partnership with images, films and graphics to sing paeans of the mystery and joy that are inherent in Nature. He's been a photography mentor, leading tours to various wildernesses for nearly a decade, authored at least two known books partly or fully, and been awarded both nationally and internationally for his pictorial work.