An encounter with the Greater hoopoe-lark

The highway gave way to an evenly paved, smaller road, where I saw the vegetation getting scarce by the mile, until all I could see was golden grass. The sea of gold seemed lifeless: no movement, no sound. 

My heart sank, we had traversed more than 300 km to watch the “trickster of the desert,” the Greater hoopoe-lark, named after its long bill resembling that of a hoopoe’s. Patiently, we scanned the landscape looking for the tiniest movement of this ground-dwelling bird. Suddenly, a movement: alas, it was a wheatear. 

We kept searching and finally found it: the bird looked at me directly and scurried at full speed. I got off from the car and realized the only way for a closeup of this bird was lying flat on the ground, partly obscured by whatever little vegetation was around me. So, I did just that, as the car drove away. In the ensuing silence, now it was just me and the bird. Sure enough, the unsuspecting bird came closer, foraging as it did. 

Suddenly, it broke into its song: a distinctive fluty ascending trill! Mesmerized, as I lay there under the sun, I watched this tiny spectacle unfold in front of me. Soon after its call, the bird did something unexpected: it flew up and, while singing, swooped straight down to the ground. It was the male’s mating display! Again, it flew and dived. I managed to click it mid-flight, feeling blessed to be the sole spectator in the vast desert. 

However, I was mistaken. We weren’t alone: I saw another bird approach. They mated for a moment and away they flew. As they say, it all happened so fast! I didn’t give up and waited to catch another glimpse. And it reappeared: this time with feathers and other material in its beak. Thrilled as I clicked it, I thanked our stars that the bird was going to nest here and its offspring would adorn this desolate land with their adored tricks and antics. 

I silently bowed to this bird for its wondrous performance paying no heed to the sun in the sky or the chill in the wind. The car was back for me, but the song did not cease—it’s monotonic trills ringing even above the vehicle’s cacophony. As the bird and its song dissolved somewhere in the desert, I bid adieu, promising to return.

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