Silent SOS

Wetland and mangrove birds now forage among plastic waste in urban areas because their natural habitats are all but gone.

A grey heron broods in a river divided by shrimp-farming nets, which mark many other waterbodies of Kerala. Thalassery, Kannur. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

Wetlands are a crucial component of Kerala’s forest-to-sea ecological continuum. With 44 rivers, the State’s geography is deeply linked with water, and wetlands are a critical part of this interconnected landscape. Yet the wetlands are under severe threat from construction-related activities, encroachment, and waste dumping—a common fate of wetlands not just in Kerala but all over India and the world.

The common sandpiper, a usual wetland bird, is most often photographed looking for food against the background of clean, blue waters. Here it is seen sitting on a plastic sack full of household waste in the Kakkad river. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

The white-breasted waterhen, a shy bird, thrives in quiet fields and marshes. This photo, taken in a busy waterway in Kannur city, shows the bird searching for food in a dirty stream clogged with invasive plants and debris. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

The destruction spells danger as much for humans as for other life forms, which we hardly care about given the anthropocentric focus of our imagination and development plans. The authorities cannot usually be less bothered about the loss or irreversible damage to the natural habitats of birds and animals.

Cattle egrets can often be seen foraging in urban dumping grounds, now that their natural habitats are dwindling and their usual sources of food are vanishing. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

Seagulls are found all along the coasts of Kerala. The menacing jaws of an earth-mover seem ready to eat up their habitat. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

Globally, mangroves are disappearing at a rate of 1 to 2 per cent per year. In Kerala, the loss is severe, with the State having lost nearly 98 per cent of its mangrove forests in the last 50 years. Most of us do not even know about the annihilation happening in our backyard.

Chempallikundu in Kannur district is known for its migratory birds. But hectic construction activities are destroying the wetlands. A common greenshank roots around in the waters, in which a school building is reflected. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

Many of the images of wetlands we see on social media are digitally manipulated. Plastic and other wastes, sometimes whole buildings, are erased from the frames to enhance their aesthetic appeal. If the images had been true to reality, what we would have seen reflected in the waters are not blue skies or fluffy clouds but concrete buildings and smoke-belching industrial units. The sanitised images do us a disservice by leaving us unaware of the deterioration of once-pristine habitats.

Madayipara, a laterite hill in Kannur district, is home to over 250 bird species, including migratory birds. Originally spanning 900 acres, this habitat is reduced to 340 acres now due to division and development. Among the rarest birds found here is the yellow wattled lapwing. The birds are silent witnesses to the rapacious developmental activities. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

A little egret in the Kattampally wetland, recognised as one of the 24 Important Bird Areas (IBA) of Kerala. Kattampalli hosts 12 duck species and is the only place in the State where four types of eagles—the greater spotted eagle, the Indian spotted eagle, the eastern imperial eagle, and the steppe eagle—coexist. Sadly, 5,000 acres of rice fields in Kattampally have been sacrificed to the construction of a bridge, and to heavy dumping and land-filling. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

The issue of polluted wetlands cannot just be a tiny snippet of local news. The pollution will eventually lead to freshwater scarcity, affecting human lives. If the plight of birds and animals fails to move us, this possibility should.

A pond heron in its breeding plumage flies above a tree over which a net has been laid to stop birds from roosting. Such nets are common in urban areas: they are used to ensure that bird droppings do not disfigure vehicles and buildings. They lead to numerous animal fatalities. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

Usually seen in mangroves, the oriental darter is seen here in an urban landscape. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

One of the most severely threatened rivers in Kerala is the Kakkad: this once-vibrant waterway, a tributary of the Pamba, now exists mostly in people’s memories. Looking at the river today—when it has dried up in large patches—it is hard to believe that boats full of cargo and passengers used to ply the river in the not-so-distant past. With its banks chock-a-block with schools, warehouses, factories, taxi stands, and shopping centres, the river is dying. Kakkad is a good example of how to kill a river. The birds of Kakkad now live among garbage dumps.

A lesser whistling teal in the Kattampally wetland, where a plywood factory belches out black smoke. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

This photo story is about birds we coexist with; they are all around us, even in busy cities, but we fail to notice them most of the time. They are also hidden behind piles of waste. For instance, the the common sandpiper, once ubiquitous in freshwater wetlands, now forages among cement bags and plastic wrappers. The oriental darter—which, with its long, snake-like neck, could be easily spotted in large water bodies—is now placed in the “near threatened” category in the list of the International Union for Conservation of Nature. If we see it at all, we see it against a backdrop of water choked with debris. That birds have been forced to adapt themselves to the polluted urban environment is a sad commentary on the current reality.

An Asian openbill stork in murky waters, with farming nets in the background. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

A pond heron on a floating garbage pile. | Photo Credit: Prasoon Kiran

By giving us a raw, unedited perspective on the current condition of our wetlands, these photographs should give us an idea of what lies ahead for our environment and warn us of the future we are creating for ourselves.

Prasoon Kiran has been a photojournalist for over six years, working with newspapers and magazines. His photographs have been featured on the covers of Mathrubhumi Weekly. At present, he leads the visual department at The Malabar Journal.