Race to save the great Indian bustard

It has been two months since the India-Pakistan military hostilities ceased. But the mention of Operation Sindoor still gives Tushna Karkaria goosebumps. She is a veterinary scientist at the Ramdevra Great Indian Bustard Conservation Centre in Pokhran, Rajasthan. Though the centre lies nearly 200 km from the Pakistan border, some missiles landed dangerously close to Pokhran, a key test range for the Indian military.

. During the three terrifying nights between May 7 and 9, she feared not only for her own safety but also for her “foster kids” — 69 great Indian bustards (GIBs) she has been nurturing since 2019 as part of a programme to revive their numbers. “What if a missile had landed near the centre? That could have wiped out years of our conservation work,” she said.

. Amid the uncertainty, the GIB conservation team of Rajasthan and scientists from Wildlife Institute of India (WII) made a tough decision — to relocate nine captive-bred chicks, none older than 45 days, 450 km to Arwar, hoping to preserve at least one generation. “Relocating adults wasn’t an option; they could injure themselves during the eight-hour journey,” she explained.

. While some staff stayed behind to care for the adult birds, others volunteered to accompany the chicks to safety. Three chicks born during Operation Sindoor were named after key figures involved in the mission: Sofia Qureshi, Vyomika Singh, and Vikram Misri.

. Their urgency wasn’t misplaced. Only about 140 GIBs remain in the wild in India today. The vast majority is in Rajasthan, primarily within the 2,347 sq km Pokhran Field Firing Range and the 3,162 sq km Desert National Park, spanning the districts of Jaisalmer and Barmer.

. The GIB is more than just a critically endangered bird; it is an umbrella species for arid and semi-arid grasslands. Saving the bustard, thus, means protecting a vital yet often overlooked ecosystem. The grasslands serve as essential grazing grounds for livestock, and their dense root systems help recharge groundwater.

. Love calls

. Rajasthan is the GIB’s historical stronghold and now its last refuge. GIB is also its state bird, locally called the godawan. I travelled there early July to witness efforts to bring the bird back from the brink.

. A blast of hot desert air hit my face as I stepped out in Sam, a tiny village in Jaisalmer district. It was 5.45 am and already 32°C. At 6 sharp, researcher Swati Sen arrived in her jeep. We were heading to Desert National Park.

. With the air conditioning blasting, we drove into the Thar desert on a narrow black ribbon of road flanked by thorny shrubs, odd-shaped fences, and skeletal acacias. The desert shimmered, and I half-hallucinated about desert foxes, raptors, and vultures moving through dunes, but saw none.

. After 25-30 km, we stopped at the fencing of a restricted grassland zone. The grassland, and an arid expanse dotted with shrubby acacias and scattered tufts of grass stretched out. Parking at a distance, Swati and I walked to a nearby ‘magra’ — a raised mound that was just outside the 10 sq km restricted grassland.

. She set up a tripod and telescope. Then pointing to a plain patch 400-500 metres away, she whispered to me, “Given that they mate during the monsoon, that’s the best spot to see them.” Two minutes later, she passed me the telescope, saying: “There he is — displaying his mating moves and trying to woo a female.”

. The male GIB was nearly 4 feet tall, with a striking black crown, white neck, and dusty-brown plumage. He strutted about, occasionally puffing out his gular pouch (skin sac located on the throat) to emit a deep ‘homm’, a booming call carrying over a kilometre. A female soon appeared. She was shorter, with a paler white neck. She strolled past him, seemingly unimpressed. He didn’t push but just continued his rhythmic ‘love calls’.

. While Swati scanned the grassland, I tried to photograph the GIBs, but even at full 500 mm zoom, they were just white dots against the golden-green expanse. Farther off, four other females were breakfasting on grasshoppers and insects.

. Current status

. In just 30 minutes, I saw seven GIBs in the wild. Nearly 95% of these birds found in India are in Jaisalmer. There are occasional reports of GIB sightings in Gujarat, Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, and Maharashtra, but combined, these states may have fewer than 10 birds.

. Just 50 years ago, Asia’s heaviest flying bird, growing up to 4 feet and weighing 10-12 kg, had thrived in 11 Indian states. Talking about Karnataka, until about 30 years ago, GIBs (erladdu in Kannada) were commonly seen in Siruguppa (50 km from my hometown Ballari) and Ranebennur (100 km from where I work in Hubballi). But no GIBs have been spotted at the Ranebennur Blackbuck Sanctuary since then, and researchers say only three remain in Siruguppa.

. Recovering eggs

. Desert National Park has many fenced grassland zones, established under Project GIB by the Rajasthan Forest Department in collaboration with the WII, Dehradun. Over 70% of wild GIBs in the region lay eggs in these tailor-made habitats — free from predators like stray dogs, boasting fewer foxes, and planted with specific grasses that attract grasshoppers and insects (their primary diet). Two-tier metal fencing keeps humans and cattle out.

. We had spent about three hours near the grasslands, and by 9 am, the sun was blazing. The previous evening’s downpour, equivalent to nearly 30% of Jaisalmer’s annual rainfall, had only made the day more sultry. I was close to dehydration.

. As we prepared to leave, Swati cross-checked her field notes and entries on a dedicated mobile app. Every day, from 6 to 9 am and 5 to 8 pm — through blistering 48-50°C summers and chilly 6-8°C winters — she and 10 other researchers and technicians at the Sam centre scan the national park, including the grassland zones, in search of GIBs. They closely monitor the birds, especially nesting females.

. Identifying nests is vital to the species’ revival. Eggs collected from the wild are sent to two conservation breeding centres, at Sam and Ramdevra, 160 km apart, for artificial incubation.

. As we drove to the Sam centre, a question kept swirling in my mind: Is it right to take away an egg from its mother? Over breakfast, I brought this up with Varun Kher, a WII scientist and an expert on desert birds. “We don’t have much choice. GIB numbers have dropped so low, they can’t recover on their own. In the wild, the success rate of an egg hatching and the chick surviving is just 37%. With controlled incubation, it jumps to 96%,” he said.

. Unlike most birds that build elaborate nests, female bustards lay a single egg directly on open grassland, relying entirely on its green, olive, and brown shell for camouflage. The egg, weighing about 130 grams, is guarded closely as the female forages within a tight 100 metre radius.

. Using location coordinates, researchers, working with the forest department and field staff, reach the nest when the bird is absent, and replace a few original eggs with the dummies. The real eggs are taken to the breeding centre for artificial incubation.

. The dummy serves two purposes. A dummy egg is sometimes placed after collecting the real one so the female keeps incubating without any psychological distress. This helps when tagging the bird later, or swapping in a captive-laid egg for her to hatch and raise.

. “In the wild, a GIB lays one egg at a time and devotes the next one year to raising the chick. And many times the chicks don’t survive till adulthood,” Kher explained. Since they mature at four and live only for 12-15 years, a female successfully produces three or four chicks in her lifetime. “At that pace, recovery will take decades. We don’t have the time,” he said.

. Founder birds

. Currently, the Sam centre houses 21 GIBs, and Ramdevra, 48.

. The first egg was collected in 2019 and brought to the incubation centre at Sam, where it was fittingly named Uno. Since then, a team of 70 scientists, technicians, watchers, and bird keepers have collected 5 to 10 eggs each year. So far, 44 eggs have been collected for captive breeding.

. Birds hatched from wild eggs are called founder birds. Currently, 33 founder individuals form the base of this revival project — including 19 females, 11 males, and three chicks whose sex is yet to be determined. The remaining birds at the two centres were hatched from these founders.

. Human parents

. Our next stop was the more advanced GIB incubation facility at Ramdevra, a 20-minute drive from Pokhran.

. It is an isolated complex, located about 7 km from the nearest human settlement, and secured like a high-security prison. There are no signboards, and entry is restricted. “Finally we meet,” said Sutirtha Dutta, the scientific force behind the bustard recovery programme, as he led me inside. I had first contacted him eight months ago, but my visit had been shelved due to a bird flu outbreak. There was a risk that I could carry viruses that might endanger the vulnerable chicks.

. Without much ado, he began: “Once eggs are collected, they are cushioned in special ice boxes to minimise shock during transport. They undergo physical checks for weight, size, colour, and development stage, with every detail logged in a central monitoring app. Most chicks pip in 22 days.” He paused to say: “Words fail to explain the happiness of seeing their birth.” Once a chick is born, the team becomes its “mother”, and human imprinting begins.

. The chicks are fed in-house bred insects and worms, and seasonal fruits and vegetables by hand. They are also given a special pellet feed imported from the International Fund for Houbara Conservation (IFHC) in Abu Dhabi, which works on saving the endangered Houbara bustard. India’s GIB recovery blueprint was inspired by IFHC but has since evolved. In contrast, GIB chicks in the wild receive minimal parental care and are vulnerable to predators. For the first 28 days, they can’t fly and only hop short distances.

. As we approached the chick enclosures, Dutta made soft sounds, “homm... ahumm... homm...” This signals to the chicks someone familiar is coming. GIBs are quite sensitive and skittish. If startled by strangers, they may jump in panic and injure themselves, even inside soft-netted cages. Only designated caretakers are allowed near them.

. Standing outside a temperature-controlled, disinfected enclosure, I watched Sohan Lal, a keeper, feed three chicks. Each time he made the “homm” sound, the birds calmly walked to him and picked feed from his hand. Later, he would take them to a larger enclosure where they could jump, flap, and play.

. “The chicks see us as their mothers. If anything scares them, they come to us,” Lal said. Growing up in Jaisalmer, he often saw GIBs flying freely. Unintentionally, the area, closed off for military tests, became a safe haven; today, about 60 GIBs call it home. “By becoming their mother now, I feel I am protecting my own land,” he said.

. Lal has heard of locals killing the bird for its meat, believed to be an aphrodisiac since the times of kings. Habitat loss from expanding agriculture, overgrazing, and the drawing of high-tension wires for solar and wind farms has further pushed the species to the brink. About 15% of annual GIB deaths result from electrocution on high-tension power lines, which the birds often fly into due to poor frontal vision. The Supreme Court ordered these lines to be buried underground, but there have been delays.

. Karnataka efforts

. After disinfecting himself and changing into an apron, Dutta got inside an enclosure. He said that while natural mating continues, artificial insemination is a key focus to boost the GIB population. The first chick via artificial insemination hatched in October 2024, and was given the name of ‘Arambh’ (meaning to start). I spent the next 20 minutes outside the ‘cage’, watching the chicks, their sharp beaks, huge eyes, stick-like legs, and famous white neck as the staff pampered them.

. Under the Supreme Court’s supervision and as part of the National Bustard Recovery Programme, the union government aims to release captive-bred GIBs into the wild, starting at Desert National Park, by late 2026. Dutta shared the plan: Once a captive-bred GIB lays 3-4 eggs, any further eggs will be used for reintroduction into the wild. These chicks will be raised with minimal human contact in a semi-controlled environment on Ramdevra’s campus. Once able to survive on their own, they will be released near wild GIBs, who can teach them instincts like flocking, nesting, and habitat finding. Dutta noted that while the first two human-reared generations may never see freedom, future generations will. The team will still collect eggs from the wild to aid gene pooling, diversification, and healthy breeding.

. Karnataka is also preparing for the GIB’s return. At Ranebennur, the forest department is clearing dense trees planted in the 1980s across 1,000 hectares to restore the natural grassland habitat. It would suit 20-25 GIB adults. In Siruguppa, a mining company is buying 1,000 hectares from farmers to develop grasslands as compensatory afforestation.

. To see GIBs, I had to travel about 1,600 km by flight, bus, and camper van from Karnataka to Rajasthan. Dutta told me reintroduction in Karnataka could happen as early as 2028-29 if local habitats are restored, both the Karnataka and Rajasthan governments reach an agreement, and the union ministry gives a nod.

. Like this story? Email: dhonsat@deccanherald.co.in

Race to save the great Indian bustard

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