.
A loud booming call rang through the dry scrublands bordering the sand dunes of Sam. Awan, the Great Indian Bustard shook his black fur crown, enlarged his tail feathers, puffed up the sack hanging from his neck and let out another booooooom.
The Lek or display ground in the heart of the desert land was his dominion. When spring creeped into the blades of Sewan grass, Awan knew it was time to put up a show and let all the ladies in the land know that he was ready to meet them and embark on the annual project of making some olive green eggs.
All through the year, Awan was a friendly guy. He would hang out with the boys, picking worms, pecking on grass seeds, racing each other, and sometimes, flying to the other end of the watering hole when the rains breathed new life into the old desert earth.
But come mating season, he was the king of the Lek. He would fight his friends for his sole right over the territory.
About 500 metres away from the Lek, Solara, was foraging for food. She was another one of India’s last Great Indian Bustards. The loud call drew her to Awan.
She approached him, inspecting him closely.
‘I thought you’d never come.’ said Awan. ‘You look so pretty today, Sol.’ he added, with a tilt of his head.
‘Are you sure you were calling me?’ replied Solara.
‘Who else would I call?’ said Awan, with a look of mock surprise.
‘Why yesterday I saw you with Sarang. And the day before you were doing quite the dance for Rasiya. News travels you know.’ said Solara.
‘A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do’ said Awan with a straight face.
Having multiple girlfriends was quite common in the Great Indian Bustard community. But today, it ticked off Solara a little.
‘That’s not going to woo me’ she snapped back.
‘Maybe this will?’ said Awan and drew himself up to double his size and let out another booming cry.
His baritone was a thing of beauty, his legs were so strong and his brown wing feathers looked so attractive today. The great blue sky and the balmy spring breeze weren’t helping either. Solara couldn’t resist Awan’s charms.
A brief bout of cuddles and pecking later, Solara would carry in her womb the seeds of one of the rarest treasures on earth - A Great Indian Bustard’s egg. One of the planet's fastest vanishing creatures.
There was a time when Solara’s tribe didn’t just roam the desert lands of Thar. They were found everywhere in the Deccan plateau.
Slowly the grasslands were cleared for farming, villages started growing in number, the birds were hunted for sport till the edge of extinction.
Then came the windmills and the power grids. Great Indian Bustards were never great fliers. Their eyes would often miss what lay in front of their beaks because they were always busy darting sideways to detect predators in the vast, open desert scrubland.
So many of Awan and Solara’s friends and family had collided into power lines and lost their lives.
The power lines brought the future closer to the villagers who shared their remote homes with the endangered birds. For years, they had been cut off from the comforts enjoyed by city folks. Their children could now study under the light of electric bulbs. Television screens would add colour to their evenings.
Some day, they too would heat their food in microwaves and drink refrigerated water as cool as mountain springs on scorching desert days.
But the gushing speed of change tore through the wings of the birds.
It felt like Awan and Solara’s kind would become stories we will tell our grandkids. No more real than the Jurassic era dinosaur fossils that lay under the desert sands. Fragments of majestic beasts that had once walked the earth.
Weeks after that meeting with Awan, Solara laid not one but two olive green eggs. Her nest was just a patch of solid ground. No protective nook made of sticks and leaves. Every day for a little while, Solara left her nest to get a cool drink at the watering hole, and catch up with the other girls. On the way, she’d catch a worm or a lizard. Her trips were always short. She would return to warm her eggs soon after.
She spoke to her eggs sometimes. ‘At the edge of where the Sewan grass grows talls, there are golden mountains of sand. If you fly out that far and land on top of a dune, your feet will sink. Oh and you’ll love the sandbaths, my little ones. But when I’m not at home, you must be careful, of dogs and foxes. If you’re ever in danger, you must call out to me.’ Some days, she imagined the eggs moving and her chicks lapping up every word. She couldn’t wait to meet them.
‘When you grow older, you’ll ask me about Daddy. He’ll never be around. And I’ll tell you now, Mommy will be more than enough. Then you’ll have Aunty Siran and Aunty Giran. We’ll love you so much. I never had a daddy who looked after me and look how fine I turned out!’ said Solara.
As the sun rose in the horizon, Solara got up to go for a stroll around the grassland. The larks had started their morning chorus. A lizard skittered under a rock. Somewhere far away in the village a pack of dogs howled.
Solara’s nest was not secure.
From behind a rock, peeped a desert fox. Snooping around for a meal. An easy prey. Desert foxes were difficult to spot. Their sandy frame camouflaged easily. It creeped up towards Solara’s eggs. They would make a delicious meal and fill the hungry fox’s belly but Solara would return home to a heartbreak. The eggs couldn’t cry out to her for help. Solara wouldn’t know her babies were in danger.