Scenes by the Sea

He’s lived in this town long enough to forget the breath of the morning. Although he plans his escapades on practically every weekend, he longs for the smell of the warm summer air. In this town that he lives in, you can’t smell a thing. The first rains drips over the garbage dumps, restraining the petrichor from reaching your senses. The scent of Alstonia is overridden by the stench from the drains. When you walk on the street, you must watch your feet for cracks in the pavement. He maybe complaining like a subterranean homesick alien, but last week, he and his friends vowed to escape. For two days they remained aloof, cherishing the breath of the morning, the smell of the fresh air, and the sound of the sea.

By the coast of Maharashtra, a little over hundred miles south of Mumbai, lies a little town of Nagaon – a small, cosy place dotted with cottages and hotels, looking over the mighty Arabian Sea. It has been a place of nirvana for many, and dipping yourself into this sacred sea is how you attain bliss, and reboot your consciousness. You lose your routine here. You don’t rush to catch the wind, you sail with the wind. You don’t drown, you dive in. You don’t hear noise, you listen to music reverberating through your body. Did he really lose himself there? You may ask. He indeed did, and every word of it is true.

The sea was mesmerizing. The wind was fulfilling. And the scenes by the sea beguiling. We reached the cottage by noon, and quickly unpacked and set out to explore this coastal town. The soil was sandy, but mostly reclaimed by their owners. Most of the trees here were planted, but there were many wastelands that were now slowly restored by tall, dense grasses. By the roads, the most common trees were Casaurina, a tropical tree planted exclusively along seashores as windbreaks.

Under a small shady tree I saw some activity of a rather large Weaver Ant. At a closer glance, it was a startling surprise – an ant-mimicking spider in the family Thomisidae, the Amyciaea sp.:

Amyciaea sp., Ant-mimicking Crab Spider

It was busy feeding on a Weaver Ant, who had a nest a few feet above the spider’s lair. Unlike most ant-mimicking spiders that mimic an ant’s shape from head to abdomen, these spiders mimic the other way round – from abdomen to the head. The distinct black spot you see on the abdomen are false-eyes, to mimic the face of the Weaver Ants. The real eyes of these spiders are in the typical Thomisidae pattern, wide-set and tiny, except for the two median ones with a binocular vision. They lie in ambush, usually near their prey’s nesting, and strike when the target is close enough.

As we walked along this narrow road sprawling with cottages on both sides, we were struck by the sight of a fluttering, flashy object:

Tanaecia lepidea, the Grey Count

It then settled on the ground in front of us for a sip from the damp mud. It is Grey Count, a beautiful Nymphalid found in the southern reigon of Maharashtra and downwards. They are also present in the North East, but their absence in Mumbai region is quite interesting to ponder upon. It flew into one of the orchards and left us standing on the empty road. The way was deserted. Everyone had gone into hiding from the hot coastal sun. One creature that happens to shy away from bright sunlight is a skink that we found under a boulder:

Lygosoma punctata

This marvelous snake-like creature is actually a true lizard in the family Scincidae, in the genus Lygosoma, probable species being punctata. Its movements match that of a snake, and they use their tiny legs which are quite apparent to move quickly through the undergrowth. They mostly spend hot days under rocks, emerging late in the evening or at night to feed upon insects and other invertebrates.

We emerged back early evening to explore the sea. The rolling waves were sending a hypnotizing chant our way. We could hear her, and we knew where she was located, but we couldn’t see her. As we stepped on the cool sand by the towering Casuarinas, her calls became stronger, guiding our way. We saw her at the edge of the shoreline, delicately bathing and churning the vast stretches of sands. It was about two hours from sunset when our feet touched the cool waters, and sank in its soft surface. The high tide was returning, and the moon had risen one-third its way into the sky.

After a dip I returned to land and set up the camera facing the horizon:

Arabian Sea

The sea rolled wildly as twilight approached. The east was darkening, and a few stars had begun to cast their light in our direction. Visiting the seashore without witnessing a sunset or a sunrise is like visiting a garden and not heeding the flowers. The Arabian Sea lies directly west of the coast of India, and therefore a sunset is always assured, and this being winter, the clouds rarely ever block your view. I was expecting to catch a glimpse of the rare green flash phenomenon, but a haze over the distant horizon blocked our view. The sun disappeared, drowning us in twilight. This is the time when you must strain hard to see, and a camera becomes your important tool of seeing the subtle shades of twilight:

A Hermit Crab at dusk

The shell belongs to a Hermit Crab, who may have sought the shelter by defeating its previous occupant. It was too afraid to give us a clear view, but it must have been glad to be on the soaking sand, where they mostly roam around in search of food.

The evening star, or Venus, was shining brightly over the horizon – a sentinel planet that always carries the warmth of the sun over its surface. Seeing one over any water body, in any part of the world, is a divine feeling.

Mornië utúlië

And as the darkness crept over the western sky, the sea suddenly calmed down. The music faded to a murmur, and the waves sailed smoothly over the sand without churning it. It was the time of peace, a time when diurnal creatures seek shelter, abandoning the seaside, and when the nocturnal creatures haven’t left their abodes yet. We then returned to our shed, our hearts satisfied with this magical quest. There was no doubt that we’d return the next morning.

I woke up to a flash. The sun was one third its way into the sky, sending its blinding beams, flooding the shoreline with white light. We started early in the morning before it rose midway into the sky. The scenes in the morning were just as beautiful as in the evening. A heavy mist was lifting from the meadows as we walked to the sea:

A mist lifts from the meadows

At the beach, a gathering was underway as bullock-carts after bullock-carts rolled into the white shoreline:

A gathering of bullock-carts

The day was Sunday, an off-day to the bulls and the farmers. It was time to put them to their test, to exercise their muscles, and to play a sport of race. The bullock horns were polished with oil; the mane of the horses was washed and brushed silken soft. Their toes were painted, and their masters sat on the cart puffing a smoke in the air. Some of the enthusiasts gave their wheels a warm-up. Two players decided to taste the real deal that came later in the afternoon, a friendly race between a handsome horse, and a pair of equally handsome bulls:

A warm-up race

The bulls were no match to the horse. He beat them in a minute. Yet it was an unfair feat, because the horse is obviously no match to the bulls when it comes to brute strength they reserve in their bulk. It was one of the many fine scenes unfolding as the sun cast its rays from behind the Casuarinas.

A few yards yonder near the sea, that was now retreating after a high-tide of the night, a flock of hundred Brown-headed Gulls cluttered at the bank:

A flock of Brown-headed Gulls

They took to the flight as soon as a few unaware people disturbed their early morning siesta, a sun-bathing of sorts – soaking up the sun after a cold night. These gulls are in their non-breeding plumage, but as winter progresses, their colours will soon change to dark brown heads and fairest bodies cloaked in silvery grey wings. While stalking this flock of birds, we saw some very active waders along the shore in groups of threes and fives. They were feeding on something in the sand – we’ll get to it in a while. These were Kentish Plovers:

Kentish Plover

A cute little member of the Plover family, they are distributed across various continents, and are common along the Indian shoreline. These birds also donned their non-breeding plumage, which is not as beautiful as their breeding colours, yet these birds are always a treat to the eyes, watching them as they skitter over the shoreline with their nimble feet, leaving no trace into the sand that they had been there.

We also saw many Pond Herons hanging around the shoreline, much away from the saline waters, as well as a Yellow-footed Green Pigeon in the trees, a Spotted Dove, Eurasian Golden Orioles, a Honey Buzzard, Red-vented and Red-whiskered Bulbuls, Black Drongos, and many Little Green Bee-eaters.

I became completely absorbed by the scenes unfolding by the sea. A trio of dogs ran along the water, trotting and playing around. They sure were glad to be living by the beach. A couple held their hands as they walked across the sand, leaving a pair of footprints that remained there until the sea reclaimed her sand. A noisy flock of the gulls now settled into the sea, diving and fishing into the waters. The bullocks were piling in numbers, their polished horns shining in magnificence. A team of cricketers placed their stumps in the sand, and another day of business opened to the cottage owners.

Yet, this shoreline was dominated by something almost invisible, but in numbers uncountable. They are intricate designers, gregarious eaters, and ultimate disguisers. Their influence is so much on this shore that they change the very shape of the landscape:

The Crab City

This network of objects is just as complex underground. The objects are tiny balls of sand, created by an invisible crab called Sand Bubbler. They are predominantly found along sandy shores, living in burrows, sometimes measuring millions in number. The sand bubbles are actually discarded pellets of sands that they filter while feeding:

A network of sand  bubbles

This efficient way of filter-feeding keeps them from feeding in the same area again and again. During high-tide, their city gets submerged, the sand bubbles dissolve, and the sand is again enriched by organic matter. By low-tide, they emerge again and filter out the organic matter. Morning is the best time to observe this vast network of the Sand Bubblers. It was hard at first to locate these shy residents of the beach. But we were lucky to finally find one of a decent size. This crab is a member in the family Dotillidae, probably in the genus Scopimera:

Scopimera sp., Sand Bubbler Crab

Their exoskeleton resembles the sand, dissolving their existence in its vastness. This guy was caught off-guard, and he strode along the shore looking for its own burrow to hide. As we scavenged the shoreline, we came across a dead Ray and a dead Sea-snake. Many marine creatures that die are washed ashore, and here they don’t go to waste; there are many scavengers on land that feed on this rich resource delivered to them by the sea.

Feathers and Footprints

We turned our backs to the sea as our time was up. We had to block her calls that were brought to us by the wind. We will definitely return.

Our winger geared towards home. The city now felt different. My eyes saw things differently. It was no longer what I had described before. My conscience changed it.