Robins dipped in gold!

As far bird encounters go, this is right up there with some my fondest. If the title isn’t a dead giveaway for you, there's a chance you might be on the wrong part of the internet my friend! Anyway, the bird in question was the Golden Bush-Robin (Tarsiger chrysaeus) and the place was a rain-soaked alpine valley in the western Himalayas.

So, this was during my Valley of Flowers trek in August 2017. I had extremely high hopes for this trek in terms of birding, because the upper reaches of this route meanders through the Nanda Devi National Park. Nonetheless, all of us birders stuck to plains know that a trip to the hills promises many encounters with winged wonders, and maybe a prized lifer or two!

The Golden Bush-Robin was on my wish list for a while. My first encounter with this beauty happened back in February of that year, in the little village of Kolakham, nestled in the eastern Himalayas. But as with many first encounters, it left a lot to be desired. In a way, that golden flash caught in the corner of my eye in the early morning and an utterly blurry photograph, only added fuel to the hopes of a dream encounter. This was the one that got away!

A Golden-bush Robin hiding in the undergrowth in Kolakham

The thing I do before every trip is a thorough search of eBird database of that area and come up with a bird wish list. I love this phase of anxious and pedantic research, mostly because at this stage all of it is within the realms of possibility!

Before I digress some more, let’s get straight to the day of the encounter. This day was earmarked for the Hemkund-Sahib hike. Clear blue skies at dawn lifted the gloomy air that had descended after the rain-drenched Valley of Flowers hike the previous day. It rained on and off the entire day and picked up strength just when we crossed the threshold of the Valley. I packed away my camera and stood under a boulder with three layers of dripping, wet garments, just when a pair of Red-headed Bullfinches appeared about 5 feet ahead! They went away as quickly as I was in the midst of figuring out the pros and cons of taking out my camera in the rain. Funny how things work out, right?! Anyway, cut to the next day, and I was more eager than ever for a solid day of birding. I started early and quickly overtook the gang. No distraction was going to deter me from birding! About an hour later, I realized two things. Firstly, my concentration quickly shifted from birding to the growing leg cramps and my aching lungs and secondly, the hundreds of horses dragging an aroma of noxious gases released from their posterior was distraction enough! Compared to the Valley hike, the Hemkund-Sahib route is a monster, gaining about 6000 ft from the basecamp (Ghangaria) in about 6-7 Kms, with constant 60 degree slopes and a billion horses. At one point, I swear I saw a grin on the face of one horse, after he changed lanes at the last minute and gave me a jarring bump! In all honesty, that may also have been the delirium caused by onset of High Altitude Sickness.

 Pilgrims on the Hemkund-Sahib hike

                                                          

Three hours into the hike, things got better. Not in terms of birding though. The only birds I saw up to this point were the ubiquitous Pink-browed Rosefinhes. Rosefinches it seemed, had taken over the Valley! Now I have been on treks before and the one rule that I follow that you must not sit down, except for emergencies. The logic is pretty simple- your muscles that gradually get used to the strain, get relaxed and you have to start all over again. However, after a little over four hours of hiking, I was seriously questioning that stipulation! On a sidenote, I forgot to mention that the weather turned cloudy once again and slight drizzles were hanging in the ever-thinning mountain air. Enough was enough, I chose a place to unburden my pack and sit down for a few minutes as one more bout of cold rain ensued. By this point, the only thing motivating me was the promise of a hot meal in the Hemkund-Sahib Gurdwara.

 Treacherous slopes on the Hemkund-Sahib hike

                                                             

Just as soon as I took out my water bottle to take a quick swill, that familiar golden flash caught my eye. It was coming from the other side of path. The rains had eased leaving a thick fog that hung low amidst the boulder-strewn valley. Suddenly, a small bird popped up on a moss covered boulder and started calling vigorously. It took me a fraction of a second to identify that bird, and I stood transfixed watching a Golden-bush Robin in its elements for the first time. The splendor of its colour stood out in the steel grey background. It felt like it had come from a quick dip in a pool of the most magnificent gold and droplets were still sparkling in the air. Ten seconds in I realized it was coming closer, and I quickly went back to my pack to retrieve my camera with all the agility I can muster. I jumped back with my camera in my hand leaving my pack open and on the ground. The bird was now about 10-15 feet away from me on a majestic perch and singing its heart out. Now, I have this recurring nightmare that one of my dream birds is perfectly in focus in my camera, but the shutter fails to close and the bird flies away. Thankfully this was not the case this time, as I frantically snapped away dreamy photographs one after the other. 

A Golden-bush Robin

Golden-bush Robin II

Mind you, I only have a point and shoot camera with high zoom (Nikon Coolpix P610) and someone with a dslr and a telephoto zoom lens would have been able to capture award-winning images for sure. In a little while, I put away my camera utterly satisfied, and decided just to marvel in its beauty as it hopped and sung away. The setting in time played its part in enriching the experience. The clouds slowly drifted and a weak veneer of sunlight filtered through. The snow peaks started to glisten in the background as I stood there with pure joy! The experience was even more special because I had given up hope of a decent sighting. And truth be told, during the rest of trip the weather let up, bringing a slew of lifers and many memorable encounters. So, I guess that Golden-bush Robin, on that desolate day in the alpine meadows of Nanda Devi National Park, was singing a change of fortune.

Golden-bush Robin III

In one quick jump down to the ground, the Robin disappeared and I started on my way again. The rest of the way was hard but I completed that with a smile of delight. 

Oh, and I sat down couple of times after that!