Crab-plover: Gujarat, India, June 2013
Dragan Simic says: “Passing another horse cart loaded with plastic barrels of drinkable water, the well-trotted dirt road winds through the open savanna with low thorny acacias and dry, flattened grass in the district of Kutch, Gujarat, India. The blueness of the January sky is broken only by numerous and noisy flocks of wintering Common Cranes.
“The road follows the dyke, with a Crested Lark on it. Another waterloaded cart, this one being pulled by two zebu oxen. We leave the acacias behind and enter the village.
“In front of us is a wide mudflat and, at the far horizon, the Arabian Sea. Between the sea and the village, on now dry tidal flats, gulls and egrets are wandering among the fishing boats lying on their sides and waiting for the tide.
“Surrounded by a bunch of shy, giggling, curious and, I must add, well-behaved children, I scan the flats. What is this strange foreigner doing in their jute village?
“Indeed, what am I looking for? A Crab-plover. An unusual white-andblack, lapwing-sized wader that is supposed to be pushed closer to the village with the approach of a high tide. It seems that I was misinformed about the high tide time. Expecting it at 1 pm, I had arrived two hours ahead, searched the flats without success, then visited a nearby
Bhadreswar Jain Temple, giving the tide some more time, but once back in the village, the Arabian Sea was not any closer than before.
“Searching the long beach, far-away boats and among them, some white spots: Heuglin’s Gulls, Gull-billed Terns. Not a trace of a Crab-plover, which is known to be wary and prone to take flight at a distance. Walking along the beach, scanning from time to time: tents, gulls, fish, dogs, fishermen and so on. No Crab-plovers. “I have never seen this plover and this is a 10-year-old fascination, dating when I lived at the edge of the Kalahari Desert. The nearest seas were 1,000 km to the east and 1,500 to the west, when I saw a Crab-plover on the front of the Africa Birds and Birding magazine, photographed on a beach in Mozambique. I told my guide, Chirag Solanki, that I have wanted to see it ever since. He nodded and bravely said: “It is possible.”
“So here we are, on a beach without a sea, inhaling the strong scent of a salted fish and scanning at least a kilometre-wide mudflat. Chiku raises a fist and smiles victoriously. I come closer; he is showing some very faraway white spots. “Are you sure?” I ask suspiciously. “Not entirely, but I think they are.” I observe the white spots, thinking how I cannot tell them apart. What to write in my notebook? ‘White spots at a distance’?
“Then the white spots started moving: one extend its long neck and turns into a Great Egret; the other lowers its black head and neck, becoming a Black-headed Ibis. Not even close to a Crab-plover (was Chiku trying to cheer me up?). I still haven’t found my plover.”