Dr S Khan
It was my first visit to Pandey Gaon, a tranquil village nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas near the Kaladungi range of Jim Corbett National Park. I had come to see an old school friend, Rushil Shergill—one of the region’s few wildlife rescue and rehabilitation experts, and a passionate birder.
One crisp morning, Rushil took us on a trek along the forest’s edge. The trail meandered through grasslands and sparse woods, alive with birdsong and the rustle of leaves. As we walked, a sharp, chattering call caught my attention. High atop a babool tree sat a striking bird I had never seen before—with a grey head, a black band across its eyes like a mask, and a warm, yellowish-brown body.
Rushil identified it with ease.
“That’s the Butcher bird,” he said.
“Butcher bird?” I asked, intrigued.
He explained, “It’s called that because it impales its prey—lizards, frogs, even small birds—on thorns and branches, then feeds on them later. It uses thorns like meat hooks.”
The image was disturbing yet fascinating, and the encounter remained etched in my memory long after I left Kotabagh. I marveled at how Rushil regularly witnessed such raw, primal behavior.
Months later, while reading a book on medieval history, I stumbled upon the story of Vlad the Impaler, a formidable king of Urasia. Known for resisting a massive Ottoman invasion, Vlad earned his chilling title by impaling enemy scouts on long spears as a warning to others. The advancing army, confronted by a forest of impaled bodies, retreated in horror. Vlad became infamous as “The Butcher of Urasia.”
The story instantly reminded me of the shrike—the Butcher bird—whose chilling feeding technique echoed Vlad’s brutal tactics. While one impaled to instill fear, the other did so to survive. The parallel was eerie and deepened my fascination with these tiny yet deadly birds.
During the COVID-19 lockdown in 2021, I began exploring the forests around Jamshedpur and took to bird-watching seriously. To my amazement, I discovered that four species of shrikes lived in and around the city—species I had never noticed before. They had always been there, hidden in plain sight.
The shrikes I observed included:
- Common Wood-shrike
- Tricolored Shrike
- Long-tailed Shrike
- Isabelline Shrike
Watching them closely, I saw how they left behind grim evidence of their habits—dried lizards, frogs, and small birds impaled on twigs and thorns. These elegant yet ruthless birds truly lived up to their sinister name.
The Butcher Bird—a small predator, quietly echoing the terrors of ancient history.
