Tangents
Back to <i>Baikka </i>
Purple Swamphen at Baikka Beel. Photo: Ihtisham Kabir
One day six winters ago, I was bicycling in the Hail Haor region near Srimongol. The paved village road soon turned into a dusty path as it snaked through the sparsely inhabited winter-dry Haor area. I could see great distances in all directions. After several kilometres, looking ahead past wide-open fields that were green with rice seedlings, I noticed a tall structure. This turned out to be the watchtower for Baikka Beel, a wetland in the middle of the haor that was set up as a wildlife sanctuary in 2003. Arriving there, I learned that all fishing was prohibited in the Beel. This resulted in abundant food for migratory birds which congregated here by the thousand. The project was implemented with assistance from USAID and managed day-to-day by a cooperative of local citizens. Two weeks ago, I decided to re-visit Baikka, this time with full camera gear. Turning off the Srimongol-Moulvi Bazar highway, I travelled for ten kilometres, about half on paved road and the other half very bumpy. Not much had changed here. In the early morning light, small villages dotted the gold and green landscape. Buffaloes grazed here and there while fishermen returned from nocturnal fishing in the haor, their baskets full of fish. Workers went off to the fields to start their work day. I passed several fisheries – rectangular ponds immaculately lined with trees – before the road came to an end. A walkway through a grove of trees led to an opening. Ahead was Baikka Beel, stretching as far as the eye could see. What struck me immediately was how fearless the birds were. As some cooperative members huddled near the watchtower, herons perched on their boat, cormorants sat on bamboo poles stretching their wings and moorhens clucked while searching the ground for food – all within a radius of few feet. A brood of dark blue hen-like birds caught my eye. There were purple swamphens foraging in the grass. On the left, a flock of birds with tall red legs, black-winged stilts, were wading in the Beel's shallow water. Suddenly, several smaller birds took flight as a black kite started circling overhead. Its languid speed changed swiftly when it dived and caught a large fish. Closer to me, a great egret craned his long neck staring at the shallow water. Was he admiring his reflection? Nope, because he abruptly submerged his head in the water and emerged with a puti fish in his mouth. I walked through a grove of mid-sized Hijol and Koroz trees – planted here because they can survive long periods of submersion - to a newly built second tower. The trees hosted numerous smaller birds. On top of the taller trees were several Pallas's fish eagles which circled the Beel looking for fish. The preservation effort has paid off. The Beel whose 4000 hectares in winter swell to 14000 hectares during monsoon, now hosts 160 types of birds. There are 98 types of fish swimming in the Beel. And so my return to Baikka became a memory I will cherish.
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