Bharatpur. March 17, 2007
Posted by globalscribe in General..trackback
This was Dad’s part of the trip, undoubtedly. And I had my reservations. Many’s the time the younger me would agree to join an enthusiastic Dad on a birdwatching trip early the following morning. Somehow, the concept never quite matched the reality. Hours and hours in hides, trying to be quiet left me bored almost every time, but I never learned.
And I was rather afraid that Baratpur might be a colossal re-enactment of all this. The early morning excitement (rather marred by an adult need for caffeine), the trudging through undergrowth, and sitting statuesque until the light rose and fell.
Still, there’s something about a twitcher-wannabe’s enthusiasm that’s infectious, and I WAS looking forward to it.
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The first day, Dad was hit with Delhi-Belly, so the avian-hunt was put off, giving me the chance to catch up with GJ, and explore the guesthouse’s lending library – small, but perfect, Agatha Christie for GJ, and Anne McCaffery for me.
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I was a little put off by the guide, to be honest; nothing personal, I just prefer independent exploration. Still, he knew his shit.
The Very Friendly Antelope – a tourist trap one suspects – met and nuzzled at us not far down the path.
Forestry workers wrapped themselves in blankets, huddles beside mini wood-fires, as we, hardened
Yorkshire folk, braved the dawn’s frostiness in search of Creatures Yet Unseen.
The Hoopoe, a thespian bird, kept us as entertained as the random guy at the temple, who ‘has two job – god and animals’. He feeds most of the park. Odd, given the ‘please don’t feed the animals’ signs up everywhere.
If you want a detailed account of what we saw, I’m afraid you will not find one. You’d have to ask Dad.
Other highlights – GJ took off with one of the cycle rickshaws. He was making good headway, until someone placed a tree in his path.
Stuffed Paratas and Mango Pickle for lunch. Yum. Mango pickle juices stain, by the way. And tiffins aren’t leak-proof.
interesting point – somewhere between Snehalaya and Bharatpur, I made a shocking discovery. My Dad and Bill Oddie are one and the same!! Seriously, the tone of voice, the exaggerated gestures, the laugh, the PHRASES when he sees something interesting, all clones. I don’t know whether this, or the fact that it’s the first time I’ve noticed, disturbs me more. Eeeep.
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