Once spread over large tracts of Northern, Central and peninsular India, the largest and only viable population (of the Godawan as it is locally called) is now confined to small pockets of the Desert National Park, in Rajasthan, where it exists in minimal numbers. The other states where it is still found, in single-digit numbers, are Karnataka/Andhra border, Maharashtra and Gujarat. The total population numbers vary, depending on whom you ask, from 90 to 200 and this emboldens me to pronounce that we should be ready to bid adieu to India’s heaviest flying bird by 2020.

The Desert National Park itself is a fascinating part of the world. Harsh and merciless in its geography, this 3,000 sq km of the Thar desert is one of the most difficult terrains in India, where temperatures often soar to 55 degrees. But it is here, in its dry grassland, that the future of this species will be decided.

The land ownership in the park is highly complicated with local villagers owning a major part, where they grow gaur or cluster bean, a lentil-like plant whose gum is used in the extraction of oil. Unfortunately the Wildlife department has ownership control only of a minimal part (around 4 per cent) and have to resort to making ‘predator free’ wire enclosures where these birds can purportly breed in safety. A truly desperate measure. A recent report by a committee appointed to redefine the boundaries and suggest change to the land-holding patterns was rejected as being anti-people.

This bird was always hunted, with even Emperor Babur commending the excellence of its flesh. Obviously the British agreed with their predecessor, for a certain Robert Mansfield is credited for having personally killed 961 of them between 1809 and 1829, in Ahmednagar. The venerable AO Hume writes about how 100 eggs were collected in Bikaner a century ago. This writer remembers seeing a flock of 27 son chiraiya in Karera (MP) just two decades ago. Madhya Pradesh and Uttar Pradesh are now GIB-mukt. But it is not hunting alone that brought matters to this sorry pass. It was the steady ingression of mankind into its territory, and more importantly, its habitat. Grassland is traditionally thought to be the most useless of eco-systems — it is misunderstood and disregarded and thereby an easy target for the builder-politician nexus. Often referred to as ‘wasteland’, these zones and their inhabitants have become prey to man’s greed and the burgeoning population. Always a difficult bird, the fertile GIB female lays only one egg every alternate year, and only if seasonal conditions are supportive. These eggs (and chicks if they indeed hatch) then have to be kept safe from predators like lizards, raptors, foxes, wolves and indeed the newest threat of them all, feral dogs. They suffer from a mortality rate of 60 per cent.

As can be expected, the birds are dying in far greater number than are being born. And then there is the new menace in the form of wind farms and their attendant high wires that lead to collisionrelated fatalities.

Many people ask why is there no artificial breeding programme? Why is there no captive breeding? The simple answer is that this bird does not breed in captivity. All previous attempts (albeit not very scientific) have not seen any success. Experts talk about how difficult it is just to keep these birds in captivity — those with stronger genes bash their heads against the wire cages in vain attempts to escape. The more docile ones become easy prey to predators.

The Dehradun-based Wildlife Institute of India has come up with a proposal to take eggs from the wild and artificially incubate them. I strongly suspect the efficacy of this endeavour, but am willing to support any measure that might even remotely work. But, even as I write, the proposal is still caught up in the web of Indian bureaucracy and chances are that it might not see light of day. Similarly, a report prepared in 2012 by the Ministry of Environment and Forests is still gathering dust.