Ed. Note: We received this submission and had no idea any of this existed. It’s not what we usually cover here, but this is how birds are hunted in a different corner of the world. It’s pretty neat.
The Morning
I woke up early on a balmy July morning, my mind racing with excitement as I thought about the
adventure that lay ahead. It was 5am. As a nature enthusiast, I am always up for exploring the
wild and scenic jungles of north India. And today, I will be able to do just that. I knew that even if
the early morning was comfortable, the day temperatures would cross well over triple digits. It
did not matter. Hot Indian summer was not going to deter me.
I gathered my gear and met up with my two friends, who were just as eager as I was to set out
on our journey. There was Harry, a fellow recreational bird hunter and a pretty good tracker, and
Jay, a botanist (by profession) who knew everything there was to know about the jungle plants
and flora. I was just happy they were part of the team.
We packed our supplies and set off before morning traffic kicked in, eager to begin our journey.
Our first stop was a local village a couple of hours away. The last place where we could buy
bottled water, and some snacks. We packed the supplies in our backpacks that we had taken
with us, and parked our 4×4 under a towering but shady Banyan tree. Banyan trees are known
for hanging aerial roots. These roots grow down from the branches and eventually take root in
the ground, forming new trunks that help to support the tree and give it a unique appearance. As
the tree matures and the aerial roots become more numerous, it can form a canopy that is
hundreds of feet wide, making it one of the largest trees in the world by canopy coverage.
We had to trek the rest of the way. The jungle was a vast and tangled wilderness, full of
surprises and mystery. We had planned and prepared for this adventure, and we were feeling
confident that we could navigate the dense underbrush and track our target.
Our goal was to locate the shy and majestic crimson pheasants that live in the dense foliage of
the jungle. A bird with striking plumage and cackle call, and we were determined to get one,
knowing fully well that the hunt would not be easy, but we were up for the challenge.
The late morning air was crisp and fresh, and the sun was just starting to make its presence felt.
The trees were tall and ancient, their branches intertwined like the veins of a leaf. The ground
was thick with vines and underbrush in some places, and the colors and shapes of the plants
were like nothing we had ever seen before. And we were confident that, with some luck and
determination, we would be able to track down the crimson pheasant.
The Call of the Wild
As we trekked deeper in the jungle, we were constantly amazed by the sights and sounds that
surrounded us. The air was heavy with the scent of flowers and the hum of insects.
We heard the call of exotic birds and the rustle of leaves as small animals scurried through the
underbrush. We saw monkeys and langurs swinging from branch to branch, and lizards basking
in the sun.The beauty and majesty of the jungle left us in awe, and we realized we were
experiencing something truly special. Langurs are a type of monkey that are native to Asia and
are known for their distinctive black or gray fur and long tails.
The heat was oppressive, and the sweat poured down our faces. But we pushed on, determined
to find our quarry. And then just like that we caught sight of a crimson pheasant. It was perched
high up in a tree, its bright orange plumage with white spots and freckles easily distinguishable.
It was an adult male. The males are known for their unique appearance with long, curved horns.
These horns are used for display during courtship and are not used for fighting. It’s basically an
ornament for the big guy.
We were filled with excitement and awe as we watched the bird. It was a magnificent creature,
a prized trophy. I took careful aim and fired my rifle, but to our dismay, the bird flew off
unharmed. Note to self: work on overhead shots.
We were disappointed, but not deterred. Hunting is a difficult and unpredictable pursuit, and we
were determined to try again. We tracked the crimson pheasant for the rest of the day, using all
of our skills and knowledge to follow it as it jumped from treetop to treetop.
The Heat of the Day
As the day wore on, the heat became more and more oppressive. The sun beat down on us
relentlessly. We were getting used to the challenges of the jungle, but the heat was something
that we had not expected considering the cooler and wet monsoon season was not too far
behind. Monsoon in the Indian subcontinent starts around July and lasts for about 3-4 months.
Most of the rains for the year happen during this time. Our water began to run out, and we had
to find a source of potable water soon. Water rationing was the new thing we had to try. It
worked but only for a little while.
After getting some rest underneath a shady tree, we had a choice to make. Either set out again,
in pursuit of the magnificent specimen or turn back. Time check: 3:30pm in the afternoon. It
would be dark in a couple of hours. Maybe the fear of being beaten by a solitary pheasant was
more than the fear of suffering a heat stroke. So, we soldiered on. Very soon our water ran out completely. As expected. We were starting to lose hope when suddenly we heard the call of the
pheasant in the distance.
We followed the sound of the bird, as fast we could go while keeping as quiet as possible so as
not to scare the bird away. I was developing newfound respect for its keen hearing. We were
tired and hungry. And THIRSTY. But we were close to our goal.
Almost on cue just to piss us off some more, the pheasant let us catch up to him. It was perched
on top of a boulder looking around for either us or food. Did not matter. This time Harry took aim
and fired, but to our dismay, the bird flew off unharmed again. Probably mocking us as it flew
away.
The Final Chase
As the sun began to set on the hot summer evening in the jungle of India, I could feel the heat
and humidity beginning to dissipate. We took a break to grab a quick bite. We were running out
of time. Time check: 5:30pm. The air became just a wee bit cooler and more comfortable, and
the sounds of the forest changed. The calls of birds and monkeys gave way to the hoots of owls
and the rustling of small animals in the small shrubbery. The trees and plants took on a deeper
shade of green as the sunlight filtered through their leaves, casting dappled shadows on the
ground.
I could feel the excitement and energy of the jungle all around me as the evening wore on. The
sounds of insects filled the air, and I could occasionally hear the grunts and noises of a larger
animal in the distance. Despite the heat of the day, I was grateful for the cooler evening air and
the chance to enjoy the thrill of a chase…
We had come so far, and this was probably our last chance to catch up to our ever-elusive prey.
We gathered our gear and decided to give it one more go. Last one for sure. Luck seemed to
have taken either a fancy to us or pity on us. But it did not matter what lady luck’s motivation
was. We spotted the bird one more time and this time I aimed and fired, and this time, to our
delight, the bird fell to the ground.
We were overjoyed and triumphant as we picked up the bird from the parched dry dirt. On our
way back to the village, we reflected on all that we had experienced and learned during our day
spent on a hot summer day in the Indian jungle.
And I knew that I would always treasure the memories of this day.
