A Day at Tsokar Wetlands - Ladakh

India’s 42nd and newest Ramsar Site declared on Dec 24th, 2020

We were standing at an elevated spot, a few hundred metres from the wetland, with our ATX 95 spotting scope mounted in front of the car. A wide pan across the grassy glades and the wetlands revealed a world that was not visible to the naked eye. This was a deceptively large wetland complex, something we didn’t truly comprehend until later in the day when we decided to cut across the width of the smaller lake on foot. The quick scope views between sandwich bites revealed large flocks of Bar-headed Geese and Ruddy Shelducks, the whites and orange popping out of the grassy banks as the morning sun touched their plumes. A lone Himalayan Red Fox trotted past the not-so-bothered birds. Ravens kept an eye on proceedings from the rocky walls of the temporarily empty Changpa settlements, used mainly during their winter stop by the lake. We quickly gulped down our hot coffee, an instant comforter in these cold mornings, and drove towards the marshes. A rich treasure-trove of wildlife spotting was in store for us.

THE ROAD TO TSOKAR FROM LEH

Earlier we had crossed Taglang La, a high mountain pass in Ladakh that connects the capital city of Leh to the high Changthang Plateau to the east. At 5,328m (17,480ft.), the wind was icy cold and the air was thin. We had to think hard before getting out of the comfort of the heated car, but the pair of Lammergiers circling just below the ridge was far too inviting a sight to let pass.

One of the two Lammergiers soaring along the edge of the high pass

Our final destination was Tsokar, a wetland that lies at 14,860ft (4530m), nestled between the pastel-hued mountains of the Changthang Plateau. It was a 4-hour drive from Leh, with the Taglang La acting as the gateway to the high rolling plateau-scape of Changthang. We had started early and had already come across a herd of wild sheep, Bharal, and a flock of the rare Tibetan Snowcocks, a stocky partridge that is restricted to the higher slopes of southern and eastern Ladakh. Standing at the pass, taking in the vastness of the landscape from this high perch, a frame broken regularly by the outstretched wings of the Lammergiers, helped us freeze time in our heads and even forget the extreme conditions, albeit momentarily.

Driving across the plateau, the land was flat until the point where the mountain slopes started to rise. The dry windswept desert-scape was covered intermittently with clumps of grass, sedges and small bushes. Large herds of Pashmina goats and sheep, some as large as over 1000 animals, were being herded by the Changpa people towards the high pastures, their sheep dogs keeping vigil against surprise attacks by Tibetan wolves. The only noticeable large wildlife on this stretch was small herds of the charismatic Tibetan Wild Ass or Kiang. These stout equids roam the open lands in small herds of mares, juveniles and foals while the large-headed stallions preferred their alone time. As our car approached, they would take off, kicking up a cloud of dust while running in a wide arc with tails held high. The bolder Greater Short-toed Larks and Horned Larks hopped casually among the grass clumps along the road even when we were just a few feet away.

Changpa herders lead a nomadic life– moving between valleys and mountain slopes in search of food for their flock

Kiangs are the most commonly encountered large mammal in this landscape

The dirt track took a turn into the mountain gap and on the other side was our first glimpse of Tsokar. The broad valley in front of us was dotted with flat grassy patches, blue lakes with white salt crusted edges, surrounded on all sides by steep yet gentle mountain walls. At the distance we could see the village of Thukje with the towering monastery above the village, perched on a cliff side like the all-knowing overseer above this magical landscape. The Tsokar Basin is primarily formed by two large water bodies, Startsapuk Tso, a 438 hectare freshwater lake and Tso Kar, the larger (1800 hectare) brackish waterbody. This wetland is a breeding hotspot for a large host of migratory and resident species and we were here at the peak of this breeding[SR1] activity.

First sights of Tsokar Basin and the landscape of Changthang

EXPLORING THE HIGH ALTITUDE WETLAND

Bar-headed Geese breed in large numbers in the Tsokar basin and winter in the peninsula of India

We had a list of birds we wanted to locate in and around the marsh, but as first timers to the place, we were open to whatever we came across. As we drove towards the lake, a movement on the ground caught our attention. Training our binoculars on the spot in the scree slope revealed one of our top targets. The Hume’s Groundpecker, a bird out of a cartoonist’s imagination with a large head and beak supported oddly by a small body and stout legs. There was a pair of them, sweeping the ground in short hops, tossing pebbles and shifting grass clumps in search of insects and larvae. Their well-hidden ground nest was somewhere around so we watched them go about their duties from our vehicle and carried on further into the basin.

Hume’s Groundpecker pair taking a closer look at us as we drove away

Our scope scan had revealed a larger concentration of birds in Startsapuk Tso, the fresh water body and that’s where we were headed. We crossed some of the vacated settlements enroute that gave us good views of the Northern Ravens, a bird restricted to the high Himalayas within India. As we watched them a smaller bird shifted between the walls. At first we could only get glimpses. As we approached, it flew out into the open to give us a stare. It was a Little Owl, another bird restricted to these high altitude marshes within Indian limits. This was a welcome but short-lived surprise as the Raven decided to chase the owl back into the walls. It was a strange feeling watching the ravens and owls in these settlements. In a few months, the Changpa would be back, walls would be repaired to support the flock at night and temporary roofs would be raised from stretched tarps. It would be someone’s home again. But until then, this was the realm of the owl and the raven.

Ravens and Little Owls take shelter among walls of the vacated Changpa settlements

As we reached the fresh water lake, we noticed the bird activity starting to rise. Upland buzzards dotted the grass patches as they waited patiently at the edges of holes for a ground vole to poke its head out. The voles were everywhere and their sheer numbers and constant loosening of the soil formed the basis for making this place the perfect breeding ground. Curious marmots kept a watchful eye on our animated antics, darting back into their burrows if we tried get a closer look.

Upland Buzzard with a successful catch of a Vole

We decided to get off the car and walk the rest of the stretch, stopping at high mounds to scan the marsh at regular intervals. The old watchtower built at the edge of the marsh seemed to be the perfect overlook for the Osprey that sat on top. A Saker Falcon darted past our view in its typical high speed dive, locking in on one of the many larks from its high clifftop nest.

Walking the wide valley of Tsokar Basin is a visually evocative experience with some fantastic birding thrown in

Our first close view of the marsh came after what we assumed would be a five minute walk, but turned out to be a good 30 minute march. From here we could see the many nest mounds rising above the calm waters. The diving Crested Grebes, the contrasting black and white of the Brown- and Black-headed Gulls flying above the water and the constant chattering of the Bar-headed Geese were the first to greet our senses.

A Nesting colony of geese, grebes, pochards and gulls at Startsapuk Tso

TRYST WITH THE CHA TUN TUN (BLACK-NECKED CRANE) AND OTHER MONARCHS OF

TSOKAR

As we started observing the marsh, we noticed a distinctly larger nest mound with a handsome black and white bird sitting on it. It was our first view of a Black-necked Crane. These birds breed in these marshes during the summer and migrate eastwards as the winter sets in. We watched her sit on her nest, preening her feathers for a good long time as the sunlight illuminated her from head to tail. To our great joy, she got up and walked gracefully with long strides to feed in the shallows. Just watching her go about her daily chores, one could appreciate why these cranes were revered and depicted so commonly in the folklore of the region. Going back to the nest mound, our scope revealed two downy heads peeking out of the nest. It was a beautiful moment that we could watch with crystal clear clarity despite the distance thanks to the ATX 95 scope.

As the chick heads disappeared back into the mound, we turned our gaze towards the grassy bank where another pair of cranes gave us peek into their courtship dances with a short greeting swing and call, beautifully synchronized by these tall lanky birds. We must add that this is nothing compared to the elaborate early season breeding rituals but it will surely do for the day. And among their long legs, much smaller denizens like Sand Plovers, Golden Plovers and Northern Lapwings moved in swift bursts. Blanford’s Snowfinches hopped along the water’s edge along with Mongolian Finches, Tibetan Snowfinches, Brandt’s Mountain Finches and Wheatears. The presence of such a high number of ground nesting birds and voles was a welcome invitation for the foxes. And they were everywhere. Even the rarer Tibetan Sand Fox and the Pallas’s Cat are also seen along this basin.

Blanford’s Snowfinch feeding on ground insects

Foxes are the most common mammal carnivore in the landscape

As we walked back to the car, we noticed a pair of Golden Eagles soaring high above the marsh and following them to the mountain side revealed a horn shaped odd contour on the mountain’s silhouette. The scope revealed a large head with curled horns. Our first look at a Tibetan Argali was made clear when animal stepped further towards the edge, revealing its long legs and muscular horse-like build. This is the largest wild sheep species in the world. Looking along the ridge we saw many such shapes appear and staring down as they assessed us carefully before descending to quench their thirst from the lake.

Argali males keeping a close eye on us as they descended the slope for their daily drink

The Argali herd was comprised mostly of females and young along with a few large males

BIRDING AT TSOKAR – UNLIKE ANY OTHER

We spent the day taking in the different moods of this marsh slowly. The pace of birding here is much slower and is more about observing from a spot than racing about. Even while having lunch at the village, we were watching over a hundred Tibetan Sandgrouse sitting still among a short scrub patch. We spent time watching different individual birds from various vantages, going about their task of braving another day in this high altitude desert oasis before the bone-chilling cold of the night envelopes the landscape.

Tibetan Sandgrouse using their camouflage and staying still to hide in plain sight

After a satisfactory few hours of walking, driving, eating, mid-day napping and bird watching, we decided to head back towards Leh, crossing the bold larks and the trotting Kiangs on the way out. As we reached Taglang La, we noticed the Lammergiers had perched above the road, surprisingly on a nest that we had failed to notice in the morning. We watched till the orange tones of the setting sun faded and the shades of grey took over. As we drove back to Leh, it was clear that we had just begun our love affair with this birding wonderland.

Lammergiers on their cliff nest shot at Taglang La as the evening light faded