For the last two days, the state of Uttarakhand, especially the hills of Kumaon, have been under the grips of widespread forest fires. When I read that the blaze has engulfed the beautiful oak and pine forests around Kumaon's 'Lake District', my heart bled for I fondly remember the idyllic summer I spent there, when I was introduced to the pleasures of bird watching. Meandering through the emerald lakes of Sattal and Naukuchiatal, a brand new copy of The Book of Indian Birds by Salim Ali in my hands, I found myself totally immersed - and totally at sea in the fragile world of birds.
Initially, as all fledgling birders will attest, my attempts at bird watching were frustrating. Most of them went like this: "Look! A Coppersmith Barbet!" the guide would say. "Where?" I'd cry, desperately scanning the dense foliage in which the tiny bird was camouflaged. "It's flown off now," he'd say. "Didn't you see it?" Out would come my trusty bird book, and I'd see the bird in question in the photographs, wondering how such a vividly-hued creature had escaped my less-than-eagle eyes. Over the next few days, I improved marginally. However, I continued to be amazed by the crazy birders at the camp I was in, arguing themselves hoarse over exactly which type of tit they'd seen - when no one but me found the name unfortunate. Eventually, when I managed to see and identify a couple of mostly common birds, a glimmer of hope was born that all matters ornithological won't always remain an impenetrable mystery to me.
Today, as reports of devastation in Sattal (and whispers of the timber mafia's involvement) trickle in, I remember it as a haven for birds. A cluster of mysteriously interconnected seven freshwater lakes in what I like to refer to as Kumaon's 'Lake District', it is set amid oak and pine forests where all manner of birds, migratory and local, reside. I spent many a happy hour there, hiking from lake to lake, or as they're locally known, tal to tal.
green bee-eater
Naukuchiatal, the nine-pointed lake about 20 km from Sattal, has also been badly affected by the fires. In fact, Vishal Vir Singh, a friend who is currently in the Kumaon hills, says, "The entire range from Kaladoongi to Bhowali and beyond is aflame. There is smoke hanging in the air and the visibility is terrible."
Geological opinion is divided on the subject of these lakes came up in the first place, but the commonly held belief is that they were created by glacier melt settling into deep valleys and hollows in the hills.
They're deep too - Naukuchiatal is about 130 feet deep. I chatted with a fisherman there, who pointed out a snake in the water, holding its neck in the air like a snorkel. It swam to my side of the lake, and disappeared rather disconcertingly under some stones not far from where. The water, he said, teemed with Mahaseer and Carp. "Twenty years ago, these waters were cleaner," said he pointing to the usual tourist detritus of beer cans, chips packets etc that had washed up by the water's edge.
I remember even today, the music of a thousand tiny waves in Naukuchiatal. It will take a while for nature to once again reclaim the magical lakes of Kumaon. Till then, my memories of a halcyon summer there will have to suffice.