My foot sets off a rippling motion as I enter the forest stream. The soft gurgling of the water mingles with the crik-crik-crik of the tiny night frogs that hop frantically out of my path. A hesitant hooting call has me twisting my neck to spot its owner – a green imperial pigeon ruffling its feathers on a Gymnacranthera tree. The canopy towers far above me, a jaunty troop of grey langurs bounding from branch to branch creating a ruckus. A Malabar giant squirrel shrieks like a banshee, startling a flock of Malabar parakeets into flight.

It is then that I notice the blue-black bird perched on a low branch, observing me with a cocked head.

It seems to clear its throat and emits an eerie whistle. The tune is melodic, yet somber, almost like a plea. Up and down, haunting yet alluring, the Malabar whistling thrush sings as the entire forest falls silent, listening to its musical cry. Even the langurs still, the babies clinging to their mothers’ fur.

Known as the whistling schoolboy, the Malabar whistling thrush is a staple resident of Myristica swamps, the mysterious dark forests of the Western Ghats where streams gurgle, frogs croak, and birdsong fill the air. With glossy blue-black feathers and a voice that has a distinctly human quality, this thrush forages alongside streambeds and on the forest floor. The blue sheen to its feathers appears only in ultraviolet light, making this medium-sized bird nearly invisible when on the forest floor.

I first made acquaintance with the whistling schoolboy in the depths of Chaare, a Myristica swamp near the Aghanashini River. As I slowly moved up the forest stream, searching the water for amphibians and odonates, the lonely call of the thrush wove a spell over the forest. Like a melody of old, it liltingly rose and fell, sometimes lamenting, sometimes alluring, sometimes playful.

I pursed up my lips to respond to its song. The whistling thrush is comparatively easy to mimic, and as I responded to its call, the thrush fell silent, observing me with a cocked head. The langurs shifted their attention to me, possibly wondering about the strange new thrush in Chaare. After I finished my sonnet, the thrush seemed to swell indignantly. It responded, this time slightly more belligerently, but its dulcet tune was still delectable to my ears. I pursed up my lips and responded in kind, and the thrush hopped on its branch in agitation. It clicked its beak and flapped off, disappearing into the dark swamp forest.

I encountered the Malabar whistling thrush on various occasions, both on my multiple visits to Chaare and in other swamps. This mellifluous bird has always heralded my forays into evergreen forests of the Ghats – from the wild coffee plantations fringing Bhadra Tiger Reserve to the offroad trails in Kalakad-Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve to the gorgeous swamp forests of Uttara Kannada. With its tuneful welcome, this adroit little thrush never fails to brighten the darkest of forests and bring a smile to my face.

Cover image by Gavon Emmens/eBird