How birdwatching has taken flight in India

A narrow path winds its way through the forest high above Bhimtal Lake in Uttarakhand. It is flanked by towering oaks and pines that throw deep shadows and shroud the path in darkness. Even mid-morning in early November, it is quite cold. Everything is quiet but the forest is hardly still. The path is littered with a carpet of dry, crunchy leaves, and we tread as soundlessly as possible. A sudden noiseless movement on the right has us stand still and we focus intently through the trees. About 20ft inside, camouflaged on a mossy tree trunk, a common green magpie flits about. It is a dramatic specimen—bright green with a cherry beak and a black Zorro-like mask around its eyes.

Eyes glued to a pair of binoculars, I follow it for the few minutes that it is blissfully unaware of its audience. It hops from one tree to another, occasionally darting to the ground for a quick pecking. Something alerts it to our presence and it flies off into the thick foliage. Despite its name, it is not common and is quite rare to spot, wildlife photographer and guide Praveen Singh Rawat says, as we continue on the trail. In his several years of birdwatching, he’s not seen it many times, he says softly.

The sighting of the green magpie caps a successful birdwatching session. A 4-hour walk from Bhimtal to Sattal and back—through dense forests, winding mountain roads sandwiched by greenery and by the side of little streams and a waterbody—yields a staggering sighting of 52 bird species. It is a glorious roster, from bulbuls and parakeets to treepies and drongos, from sunbirds and kingfishers to nuthatches and thrushes, from minivets and fantails to redstarts and forktails, and several others with such musical names as niltava, minla and piculet. These are punctuated by a profusion of woodpeckers: greater flameback, greater and lesser yellownape, grey-headed and brown-fronted. We spy a sparrow hawk perched high on a bare tree and cross paths with a kalij pheasant, but it is the Asian barred owlet that has my heart, even though the green magpie is the crowning glory.

I feel especially pleased since I am not an ardent birdwatcher, cannot identify more than a dozen species and only know these names thanks to Rawat and my birdwatcher companion. But the activity itself—walking in silence, trying to hush footsteps, listening keenly for the smallest movement and sound, tuning in to the rhythm of the forest and breathing in the terpene-rich woodland air—is the epitome of mindfulness and is incredibly rejuvenating. Four hours and 52 species later, I feel fresher than when I started out in the morning.

COUNTING FLOCKS

Thousands in India and nearly a million, if not more, across the world will experience something similar this weekend as they take part in the Great Backyard Bird Count (GBBC), a four-day (13-16 February) worldwide community bird-counting exercise held every February. The exercise was launched in 1998 by US-based Cornell Lab of Ornithology and non-profit environmental organisation National Audubon Society to collect data about wild birds in North America. Fifteen years later, it was expanded to the entire globe, and bird enthusiasts everywhere count birds for a minimum of 15 minutes and report it online.

But India’s birdwatching history is much older. The Mughal emperors were keen observers of nature and birds, particularly Jahangir, who commissioned artists to paint them. There are documents and paintings from the 19th century British colonial era, referring to ornithology and birdwatching. In the early 20th century, the activity, along with conservation, was popularised by ornithologist Salim Ali, affectionately called the Birdman of India. His work with the Bombay Natural History Society and his most famous book, The Book of Indian Birds (1941), revolutionised ornithology in the country. He made birdwatching not just accessible to the general population but also enjoyable. Other stalwart ornithologists like Asad Rahmani have added to this. The GBBC built on this interest and love, before the pandemic came along.

“In 2013, GBBC went global, and that’s when India joined in. So, we’ve been part of this incredible global movement for over a decade now,” says Bengaluru-based Mittal Gala, who runs Bird Count India, an informal partnership of organisations and groups working to increase collective knowledge of birds, and a partner in the GBBC. What this did was markedly expand the base of people interested in birds.

“In 2013, 200 people participated and last year we had 6,500 people participating,” Gala says. “The growth has been remarkable. What’s really exciting is that in the last two years, we’ve had participation from every single state and Union territory across India. Some states even have birders participating from all their districts, which shows how widespread the interest has become.”

In contrast to this, the first year saw participation from a mix of amateur birdwatchers and wildlife professionals concentrated mostly in south India, though representation came from across the country. For over a decade, India has consistently been among the top five countries uploading bird sightings and has been in the second spot for the last few years. Last year, Indian birdwatchers uploaded “66,155 checklists from over 24,000 hotspots and recorded 1,086 species—78.8% of the total number of species known to occur in the country.” This number from Bird Count India tells just one part of the story.

On eBird, an online platform launched in 2015 by Cornell Lab of Ornithology for birdwatchers to record, share and archive bird sightings, there are nearly 30,000 active Indian birdwatchers who upload sightings, photos and bird calls. Naturalists speculate there are hundreds of thousands of informal birdwatchers who might not be aware or not interested in uploading their findings but who engage in the activity for the sheer joy of it.

There is little doubt that awareness, publicity and media attention around GBBC as well as bird walks have been instrumental in raising the level of interest in birdwatching. Its biggest advantage is that unlike other wildlife sightings, birdwatching can be done anywhere: urban areas, backyards, parks and open spaces, from balconies, while commuting or travelling.

“What GBBC does in India is create this amazing celebration of birds. Every year, it introduces hundreds of new people to birding. Many of them catch the bug,” Gala says, adding that the country’s birding community introduces newcomers through activities like bird walks.

Birdwatching is one of the several activities that saw a spurt in followers during and after the pandemic, and it continues to grow. “The pandemic played a huge role,” says Bijoy Venugopal, an avid birdwatcher and Bengaluru-based nature educator, writer, cartoonist and content strategist. “During the lockdowns, everything went quiet—no traffic, no construction. Birds were unaffected. They were still flying, still singing. So, people stood on balconies and looked out. Birdwatching grew exponentially. I personally know hundreds who started birding during that period.”

This period also gave rise to the term “balcony birdwatching”, but it is more indicative of the ease with which the activity is possible. Birds can be seen by the naked eye; a pair of binoculars, even a rudimentary one, greatly enhances the experience. The sighting (or call) can then be cross-checked with free apps, (like Merlin Bird ID, also developed by Cornell Lab of Ornithology), which help to identify birds by colour, size and calls.

EMBRACING STILLNESS

The quietude the activity entails is precious for birdwatchers. “For those who have discovered birdwatching, it is the opportunity to be with nature and observe,” says H.S. Sudhira, director of research collective Gubbi Labs in Karnataka’s Tumakuru district. Sudhira has been a birdwatcher since he was in class VIII, thanks to the nature club of his school in Chikkamagaluru, Karnataka. “It helps one to hone sensory skills of sighting and listening; besides, going on trails keeps one fit. I think it is therapeutic, in the sense that birdwatching allows one to relax and be at peace,” he says.

Venugopal, 51, agrees that the rewards have been enormous. “It keeps me connected to nature and sharpens my powers of observation. It slows me down and helps me tune in. I’ve learned a lot, connected with many people, and birdwatching has opened up the world to me. It’s also changed my life in unexpected ways,” he says. In 2019, laid low by illness, Venugopal says he had a moment of reflection. “It’s what some might call an encounter with my ikigai (the Japanese term for reason for being). I asked myself what I would do every day if I had to choose one thing that made me happy and helped me find myself. The answer was simple: watching birds.”

Having spent many years working as a travel writer and then in corporate communications, Venugopal sought an alternative career and began thinking about what he could do this hobby. That’s when he “became deeply involved in citizen science—bird monitoring, bird censuses, and surveys across the country. Today, I lead bird walks, give talks, and work with organisations that are involved in nature education. So, birdwatching didn’t just enrich my inner life—it reshaped my professional and personal trajectory.”

Of the many unforgettable experiences Venugopal has had, one stands out. “In the midst of the pandemic, I volunteered for 15 days with the Wildlife Trust of India to search for the white-winged wood duck in the Lower Dibang Valley and Lohit in Arunachal Pradesh. I never saw the bird—that’s how rare it is—but the journey itself was extraordinary. We trekked through extremely tough terrain. One trek took me to Mehao Lake in the Mishmi Hills. It was demanding and punishing, and I might not have signed up had I known what it involved. But reaching a place like that and seeing the birds that live there—I recorded over 150 species, with at least 50 completely new to me,” he says.

For Sudhira, 44, the most vivid bird memory is from his school days. “The first time I saw an Indian pitta in 1994. We were on a birding trail near our school in Chikkamagaluru along a path with scrub undergrowth. Suddenly a greenish bird elegantly walked across, initially not noticing us. It seemed larger than a myna but once it noticed us, it walked away swiftly within seconds. What struck me was its colours,” he says. An early birdwatcher, and without a reference book, he jotted down all the information in his field notebook and compared the notes with books once back.

Since then, his penchant for recording sightings has remained. Even before GBBC came along, in which he has participated every year, Sudhira as a student at Bengaluru’s Indian Institute of Science (IISc) was part of a team monitoring birds in 18 select locations across the city. “We managed to gather systematic data for about a year and that served as a good baseline. For GBBC, I have made observations around my place,” he says.

It is such data from amateur birders that is invaluable and Gala says the community does a massive service in collecting and uploading it. “It’s not just numbers sitting in a database. Scientists analyse it to create crucial reports like the State of India’s Birds, which helps us understand population trends, habitat health, and conservation priorities. So, what starts as a four-day event has this ripple effect that impacts real conservation work throughout the year.”

This has further cascading effects, such as making people more aware of habitat loss, urban biodiversity, and the impact of climate change on birds as well as issues such as environment degradation and conservation. “When people see the patterns emerging from their own observations, it really drives home the reality of habitat loss and environmental change,” she says.

Over the years, the event and the participation of birdwatchers at large, has become crucial as a monitoring tool. “In the era of climate change, we don’t know who and what is directly impacting these birds. Such monitoring helps understand them better,” Sudhira says.

Though Venugopal is not sure how much the rise in birdwatching directly leads to conservation, he has no doubt that it is an excellent starting point. “Once people begin observing birds, they start noticing habitats—trees, grasslands, wetlands—and the connections between birds and their environment. That awareness often leads to care, and care can lead to action.”

BIRDING TOURISM

The other major consequence of the four-day GBBC is to turn the interest into a year-long activity. “Once people start watching birds, they realise that they will enjoy it more if they travel. Some like to travel alone, while others form groups while yet others sign-up for bird tours led by professional guides,” Gala says, adding that many sites in the North-East, Western Himalayas and Western Ghats have turned into hotspots for bird tours.

Though interest in birdwatching saw an uptick after the pandemic, it surged enough last year for online travel agency Agoda to flag it. It noticed a 41% rise in interest from domestic and international travellers in four prominent birdwatching hot spots: Kochi (brahminy kites and marsh harriers), Coimbatore (Nilgiri flycatcher and black-and-orange flycatcher), Alwar (bar-headed geese, painted storks, gadwalls, bluethroats, and various other avian species), and Cuttack (flamingos, herons, and painted storks).

In its travel predictions for 2026, online travel agency Booking.com mentioned “hushed hobbies” as one of the trends and identified birdwatching as one of the nature-based activities under this. “Silence will be golden in 2026 as Indian travellers look to swap noise for the soothing stillness of nature,” says the platform’s regional manager, South Asia, Santosh Kumar. From around $2.5 billion currently, the Indian birdwatching tourism market is expected to cross $3.6 billion by 2030, according to market research company Grand View Research.

This is borne out by search data. Over the last five years there has been a 50% increase in the search term “birdwatching” on Google Trends. More significantly, “birdwatching near me” has risen by a dizzying 350% in the same five years, coinciding with the period following the pandemic.

The rise in birdwatching tourism appears to straddle two different but related aspects—aligning with nature and intentional travel along with choosing quieter destinations. Manjari Singhal, chief growth and business officer at online travel agency Cleartrip, says this is encouraging as it decentralises tourism. “Instead of seasonal pressure on just a few destinations, we’re seeing bookings spread across smaller villages and eco-resorts year-round, following migratory patterns. It’s creating a more sustainable, local economy for homestays and specialised guides in regions that were previously under the radar.”

While Bharatpur in Rajasthan and Kabini in Karnataka remain travellers’ favourites, Mangalajodi in Odisha, Pangot in Uttarakhand and Thattekad in Kerala are also emerging as destinations for new birders. Internationally, new birders generally start at the bird parks in Singapore, including Sungei Buloh Wetland Reserve (for migratory shorebirds), and bio-domes such as Dubai’s Green Planet and then move on to sanctuary-led landscapes near Bangkok like Khao Yai National Park (hornbills), wildlife regions across Australia including Daintree National Park (ancient rainforest birdlife), and safari destinations such as Kenya’s Maasai Mara and Tanzania’s Serengeti, where large ground birds and birds of prey are encountered alongside iconic wildlife.

But it is wrong to assume that the community is homogenous, and it’s not about being a seasoned expert or an amateur. Rather, birdwatchers consider themselves to belong to two different species, and this is not even said in jest. “There is a distinction between birdwatching and birding,” says Venugopal “Birdwatching becomes birding when you start searching for specific species, making detailed lists, and travelling expressly to see birds. Birdwatching can be incidental—you notice a few birds while you’re somewhere, and that’s it. But birding is obsessive. You plan trips only to see birds, spend days or even weeks in one place, scour habitats, make and sometimes share lists, and maintain a life list of everything you’ve seen.”

Bengaluru-based Priya Rajagopal, 49, a facilitator with an NGO, is as amateur of a birdwatcher as they come, and stumbled into it by accident. “Six years ago, during the pandemic, I saw a couple of bulbuls perch on the potted frangipani in my balcony,” she says. “They were occasionally joined by barbets. So I started putting out a bowl of water. They began coming regularly to drink, bathe and play, announcing their presence by calls, and I sat and watched them quietly. I still do. Watching them is like meditation; it calms me.” So much so that she misses them when they don’t turn up. “They have also kindled my curiosity, so now I look for other birds whenever I travel, especially to forest areas.”

Venugopal, on the other hand, firmly identifies as a birder. He remembers watching birds when he was around eight and did it more seriously when he was in class IX, and has been fixated ever since. “Some people wake up in the morning and go for a jog. Some pour themselves a coffee. I watch birds. That’s my morning ritual, my daily practice,” he says. How much of a ritual is evident in that since December 2019, he has watched birds every single day and made a list, even if it is just outside his window. “It’s been well over 2,225 days now, maintaining that streak and making an eBird list for each birding session. I spend at least 15 minutes a day just standing in one place, watching birds. It’s meditative and that leads naturally to the benefits,” he says.

It goes without saying that keen birders plan dedicated trips, but even on other kinds of trips, they ensure birdwatching is baked into the day. “I make time to explore the surroundings and accommodate birding wherever I go without upsetting my fellow travellers’ schedules,” says Venugopal. “For instance, on a family trip to Singapore, I’d wake up at 4am, take the Metro to birding spots before anyone else was awake, and be back by 9.30 or 10 for breakfast—completely fulfilled for the day.”

Sudhira is of the same flock, and says he plans trips when he learns of the arrival of a special bird or migrants at certain places. “Recently, I went to see painted storks that had arrived near Sira, near the border with Andhra Pradesh. Along with them, we saw plovers, yellow-wattled lapwings and more.”

Such fervour eludes me, possibly because birdwatching came to me late. Spotting the rare and endangered forest owlet in Gujarat’s Dang district a couple of years ago flipped a switch. It was a particularly owl-heavy trip, and seeing mottled wood owls, jungle owlets, barn owls, Scops owls and brown fish owls had me hooked.

I am a here-and-now kind of birdwatcher, who revels in the joy that ensues from unexpectedly coming across Malabar pied and grey hornbills in Dandeli (Karnataka), vultures in Panna (Madhya Pradesh), flocks of painted storks and pied kingfishers in Andhra’s Coringa, scarlet minivets in flight in Almora (Uttarakhand)… Even the common red-whiskered bulbuls and white-cheeked barbets that frequent the chikoo tree outside the window hold me in thrall, a state most birdwatchers will relate to. Clearly, birdwatching is much more than the amalgamation of its two constituent words.

Birdwatching 101

Best time: Dawn and dusk are when visibility is the highest.

Best place: Anywhere, even the balcony or roof; just stay still and listen for bird calls and follow the sound.

Best season: Owing to India’s climatic diversity, patterns of bird migration and activity, birds can be spotted throughout the year. Additionally, the different seasons offer unique bird spotting opportunities.

As winter recedes and gives way to spring/early summer (March and April), temperatures rise and plants bloom, and bring alive birdlife. Across the country, courtship displays begin, presenting fantastic bird spotting opportunities.

In summer (May to June), the Himalayan foothills are perfect to spot high-altitude species such as the colourful Himalayan monal and the elusive koklass pheasant.

During monsoon months (July to September) sighting dips, especially in the Western Ghats and in the North-East, but this is also the breeding and nesting season in various other regions and it can be rewarding activity.

Winter (November to February) is glorious for migratory birds that come from Europe, Central Asia and all the way from Siberia. Especially alive are the wetlands of Bharatpur in Rajasthan which become the temporary home for migratory waterfowls.

Essential gear: A good pair of binoculars.

Essential apps: Merlin Bird ID for identifying birds and eBird for recording.

Good to know: The Great Backyard Bird Count is an annual four-day global exercise done in February that encourages people all over the world to spend 15 minutes and “notice birds around you, identify them, count them, and submit your counts to help scientists better understand and protect birds around the world.” For more information, visit https://www.birdcount.org/.

Anita Rao Kashi is an independent journalist based in Bengaluru.