Why the Kattur lake near Pulicat is a must-visit for bird-watchers

We go North this week, to Sirulapooncheri lake on the road to Pulicat, which is filled with storks, cranes, ducks and other waders

March 16, 2020 06:16 pm | Updated 06:16 pm IST

“Why do we always go South for this column,” I wondered out loud to my colleague. Resident of Nanganallur, he is well aware of the area’s green relief: the hills of Tirusulam and Perungulathur, the lakes of Kancheepuram, the wetlands of Perumbakkam. But what lies up North?

North Chennai has made a name for itself as the city’s manufacturing hub and sure enough, a bike ride up to and past Ennore meant passing by factories by the dozen.

We ride along the coast at Ennore, to cross the Ennore Creek Flyover Bridge — where the pastoral meets the strangely dystopian. Fishermen on boats strike a pretty pose against the light of the rising sun. But the rays are mellow, for in the near distance, a mushroom cloud of smog rises from the factories, hiding the sky.

At the North Chennai Thermal Power Station, we take a left, zipping past 16-feet lorries and tempo trucks full of people standing inside them like chess pieces in a box.

Once we get on to the main road, past Minjur railway station, it is as if we have entered a different world. The Minjur Pulicat Road is lined by greenery on both sides. To its right flows the Kosasthalaiyar River and to its left, the Arani River, both emerging from Pulicat, where the sea meets the land.

Aside from palm trees, it is also occasionally flanked by freshwater lakes. One of the biggest — the Sirulapooncheri lake — is our destination for today.

While that is how it shows up on Google Maps, locals know this lake better as Kattur lake. We make a pitstop near a Shiva temple, which serves as the entry point to the lake.

Met with clear skies, fresh air and a melange of bird calls, we have almost forgotten the pollution we left behind a mere 20 minutes ago — its only evidence is the layer of dust on our shirts, eyelashes and phone screens.

Paradise for birds

Amid the water lilies that line the lake’s borders, a large white stork with black wingtips sits absolutely still. I creep in closer to get a better look, but it flies away and I regret not coming here with a birdwatcher.

Kattur lake is filled with storks, cranes, ducks and other waders. For brothers Ashok and Muthu from the village, this ecology helps sustain a seasonal career: duck cultivation.

The brothers together rear ducks and sell their meat and eggs in nearby markets —the eggs go for ₹7 apiece. “When the water is good, we let our ducks into this lake during the day, and every evening we herd them out to this enclosure,” says Muthu, pointing to one nearby. Beside it is a white makeshift tent, their home for these nights.

Ashok takes his shirt off and steps inside the waters. As he goes further in, he removes his lungi to tie around his head like a bandana. He is half-wading, and half-swimming in the lake that can go up to two metres deep in the middle, all to survey if they can let their ducks in here. “He is looking for a muddy and shallow area,” explains Muthu, who has chosen to stay on land.

Once it gets hotter and the water dries further, they will start fishing too, and post that, they will need to look for other jobs. “When the water is good, and we can feed our ducks, we do this. The eggs alone sell for ₹10,000 a month. If you count the meat too, we make about a lakh every year,” says Muthu.

As we are talking, an elderly lady calls out to Muthu. She has brought with her a group of grunting pigs, who head straight for the muddy waters. There is a thriving community that depends on the lake: however its existence may be in danger. They are worried that a proposed port expansion in Pulicat may affect this place as well.

Spread over three kilometres, in rainy months the Kattur lake is deep enough to be a major source of water, and recharge the groundwater table, according to Muthu.

Meanwhile, Ashok emerges from the lake, holding in his hand three dead ducks. “I found them floating in the water, these were probably killed by bigger birds like hawks,” he says.

Ashok jumps into the water to help his brother. As they carry the ducks to the enclosure, we leave them to their business and make our way back to the city.

(With inputs from Pradeep Kumar)

In this column, we document the city’s lesser-known oases for you to explore.

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