Stealing their Colors

There are times when exotic species to photograph are not within our reach and conditiions are not conducive to favour photography. On one such occasion when neither the species nor the place was uncommon, it gave me an opportunity to look at what was there with renewed interest, and I was really happy with what I saw. A visit to Ranganathittu on a day when the weather gods had decided to strip the sky of its blues and replace it with the greys.When the gods themselves chose monochromes, who are we mere mortals to defy it.

The young Painted Storks continued to feed blissfully unaware that their colors were being robbed from them. Was it ignorance or the audacious confidence of the youth in the knowledge that all they had to do was cross the threshold into adulthood and the colors would just flow back into them.

He continued to preen as the shades of grey were becoming him. His almost amused looks seemed to ask ' you can take away my colors,but my good looks are mine to keep.'

The flowing plumes in glowing white, He indeed made a spectacular sight with the breeding plumage in all its glory, he told a different story.

You cannot take away our colors, We have none. We are nature's own monochrome and that cannot be undone. They seemed to laugh and I laughed with them. So very true and I compliment you. I'll let your colors be for the world to see.

Some have stars in their eyes, but I create my own, sending millions of droplets onto the sky. Tell me not, a shimmering sky looks better, when I can create my own starry sky with the shake of my feather.

The three musketeers gathered together and as they stood there, all for one and one for all, looking proud, handsome and tall. Their confidence, their deadliest weapon that they carried with aplomb, devoid of all colors, they still stood strong.

And a Tern of events as the most photographed inmate of Ranganathitthu stretches and poses, albeit looking profoundly bored

As I stand here I do feel strange, trying to blend in, trying to mingle, but then I do stand among friends and this does feel like home. maybe that's why I do feel on top of the world.

The wing span stretched to impress, the low flight, one of the many that would be undertaken, a look of awe, wonder, admiration and encouragement from friends and a suitably uninterested sibling dozing nearby.

With an expression as stony as the rock he sits on, the eyes continue to twinkle though in quite amusement  at the surroundings he surveys with such a calm demeanour, almost making us wonder what is going on in his head.

Another favourite inmate of Ranganathittu basks at the banks baring his fangs in eager anticipation of a tasty morsel of breakfast that might drop down unwittingly from the tree in a failed attempt to fly perhaps. Till then he chooses to display both his supreme patience and gleamy whites both equally strong.

And then it rained, it rained colors from heaven. The young ones emerged from their childhood and entered into their youth and soon they would sprout the lovely feathers in beautiful pink and black and make their parents proud.

The young ones were no longer drab and grey as their feathers started taking on a beautiful hue that was meant to stay. Like a flower that blooms, the juveniles were entering into a adulthood that was painted with a promising future.

Here I stand, a young adult painted with nature's frenzied hand in blazingly brilliant hues that none dare steal , but can capture and share. As much as I've had my share of blacks, whites and shades of greys, my pinks and oranges are mine for the rest of my days.

Photographs and work by Tharangini is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.