The Preternatural Parenting !

A Tale of Two Hornbills: An Unusual Foster Mother in Lodhi Gardens

#DelhiBirders #LodhiGardens #IndianGreyHornbill #OrientalPiedHornbill #BirdWatchingIndia #NaturePhotography #DelhiDiaries #WildlifeOfIndia #BirdsofInstagram

It looks like a nesting hornbill in Lodhi Gardens has caught the fancy of Delhiites. Tucked high in the hollow of a towering semal tree, an Indian Grey Hornbill (IGH) nest has become the most talked-about, visited, and photographed spot in the city. The reason? The confined female has an unusual visitor from the Himalayan foothills: her distant cousin, an Oriental Pied Hornbill (OPH).

Hornbills are monogamous birds that typically move in small family flocks. During the breeding season, the female seals herself inside a tree hollow, leaving only a narrow slit to accept food and discard waste. For several months, the temporarily featherless and flightless female remains confined—laying eggs, hatching them, and raising the chicks until they are ready to fledge. Throughout this period, the devoted father feeds his partner and hatchlings through the tiny opening. He even helps maintain the nest's microclimate by delivering leaves and bark. While this process is fascinating to us, it is simply a way of life for hornbills, and dozens successfully breed around us every year without drawing much attention.

What makes this particular nest extraordinary is the arrival of the OPH. Presumably having lost her way from the foothills to Delhi, this lone bird has taken it upon herself to act as a foster mother to her cousin's hatchlings. Her persistence is astounding. In the early days, she painstakingly brought a babbler chick and then an egg to feed the family, but her offerings were vehemently rejected. Despite this initial pushback, the OPH eventually overcame the confined mother's defenses and is now feeding the ever-hungry chicks peepal and pilkhan figs.

Today, both the female OPH and the male IGH are feeding the confined family in concert. It is a miraculous, exceptional story unfolding right before our eyes. One wonders what compels the OPH to take on this duty: is she seeking acceptance in an unknown land, or simply fulfilling a deep-seated maternal instinct? Adding to the mystery is the role reversal; in nature, a nesting female's role is to be fed, not to become the provider—let alone for a different species.

Knowing this was a sight not to be missed, our happy group of friends and fellow birders headed to the towering silk cotton tree. We found a crowd of birders, photographers armed with telephoto "bazookas," and curious walkers already gathered. But alas, it was not to be—during our three-hour vigil, we witnessed the male IGH, but the showstopper never showed up!

But birders never give up, and so we returned a few days later. And there she was: a larger, black-and-white bird boasting a more prominent, yellow casque than the IGH. She arrived with painstakingly collected peepal and pilkhan figs. She had stored the goodies in her throat pouch, regurgitating each fig to her beak to carefully feed the family. Watching them, you realize their curved beaks are custom-designed for this, allowing them to pluck berries, perch awkwardly at the nest hole, and flawlessly pass food beak-to-beak. No other beak shape could achieve this feat.

Over our three-hour watch, we were rewarded with multiple trips by the female OPH and the expectant IGH father in succession. They alternated between feeding and vigilance trips. During one visit, the male IGH carried and passed pilkhan leaves to the occupants of the nest. Each time food was brought, one could hear the eager trills of anticipation from the chicks.

Mesmerized, we almost forgot our morning coffee, chaach, and snacks, which we eventually enjoyed in perfect harmony with our "extended" hornbill family. As the sun climbed higher and we finally headed back to our own nests, I couldn't help but wonder (we are only human, na? And we know so little about the world of birds): will there be another twist in the tale?

I suppose I'll never know, unless we keep visiting or rely on the latest dispatches from other dedicated birders