Chukar is one of those birds that have layers to them… a mythological reputation of lunar proportions, a gamebird demanding an arduous chase, a substitute for cockfights… the evolution of humanity has spurred its devolution it seems, watching coveys moving around tentatively near human settlements looking for an easy morsel before scuttling away into the shrubbery, fearing for their life, or maybe the embarrassment of having been reduced to just another quarry for bored muzzles…
‘Twas nearing the end of another hot and dusty day in Markha Valley as I headed out towards the banks of Markha river to look for birds for the second time in the day… we were being made to cover very short distances in order to acclimatize to climb the highest mountain massif at the head of the valley, leaving too much time at hand to kill… an earlier sojourn in the afternoon had lent only sunburns and a fleeting glimpse of a fire-fronted serin… so ‘twas kind of a relief when a couple of hundred metres out from the campsite a Chukar partridge appeared around the bend…
Indian culture places the Chukar in its highest echelon perhaps… yearning for the moon with a melancholic gaze and song, a longing never to be satiated… an allegory of the nature of life, a reminder of the fallibility of conscious desires… taking a disposition that is not the most graceful and showering it with a poesy for the ages… plucking a partridge out of forest floor and thrusting it into the celestial domain of a metaphysical, spiritual thought…
The bird is naively and happily oblivious to this wisdom, one mused, as our Chukar strutted along the dirt track rather pompously, unaware of my presence… maybe this confident strut had it labelled vainglorious by Hippolytus, though he took himself too seriously most of the time anyway and hence not required to be taken seriously…
Inclined towards drier climes, Ladakh constitutes the higher elevations of the Chukar’s native range, where it weaves a population together amidst rocks and shrubs… the human would’ve been gobsmacked initially with the immensity of this Trans Himalayan landscape one feels, but then found a way to etch a living off it, and thus its path intersected with that of the pheasant… I got found out after a few minutes as expected and the Chukar duly set off for the safety of the vegetation as the sun sputtered out the last bits of light… soon the brown would become black… the bird would start pining for the moon, the people for better roads and much more…
Musing on a Chukar partridge, Markha valley, Ladakh
