Sultanpur National Park

Listen first. Before you see anything, you will probably hear it. There is a dry rustle of acacia leaves and the soft crunch of the dirt path under your shoes. Somewhere across the water, a flock of ducks lifts off with a sound like a sheet being shaken out. The air here smells of damp earth and reeds. It is quieter than you might expect, given how close you are to one of the fastest-growing cities in India.

This is Sultanpur National Park, a small wetland on the edge of Gurgaon, the city now officially called Gurugram. Behind you are highways, glass office towers, and new housing blocks. In front of you is a shallow lake ringed by trees and grassland. The contrast is part of the experience. In under an hour's drive from the towers, the soundtrack changes from car horns to bird calls. Few cities in the world keep a protected wetland this close to their edge.

The park is not large. The whole protected area covers well under two square kilometres, so a loop around the lake is an easy walk. But size is not the point here. What matters is the water. This part of Haryana, the state that surrounds Delhi on three sides, is mostly flat farmland and dry scrub. A shallow, seasonal lake in this landscape works like a magnet. For birds flying long distances, it is a place to rest, drink, and feed.

Protection came in stages. The lake was declared a bird sanctuary in 1972, and it was later upgraded to national park status, which gives it a stronger level of legal protection. In 2021, Sultanpur was also listed as a Ramsar site. That is an international designation for wetlands of global importance, named after the Iranian city where the treaty was signed. So this modest lake now sits on the same official list as some of the great marshes of the world.

Many visitors do not know that a famous name is linked to this place. Salim Ali, the ornithologist often called the Birdman of India, is closely associated with the campaign to protect Sultanpur. He spent his life recording and classifying the birds of the subcontinent, and his books are still used by birdwatchers today. Near the entrance, look for the education centre that carries his name. It is a small reminder that this wetland survived partly because scientists insisted it mattered.

Now, the birds themselves. Sultanpur changes with the seasons. Roughly from autumn through early spring, migratory birds arrive from the north. Some travel from Central Asia, Siberia, and Europe, crossing the Himalayas to escape the hard winter. You may see northern pintails, with their long, pointed tails. You may see northern shovelers, ducks with broad, spoon-shaped bills. Ruddy shelducks are easy to spot by their bright orange-brown feathers. Bar-headed geese, pale grey with two black stripes on the head, are among the highest-flying birds on Earth.

Other birds live here all year. Painted storks wade through the shallows, with pink-tinged feathers near the tail and heavy yellow bills. Grey herons stand completely still at the water's edge, waiting. Spot-billed ducks paddle in small groups. If you are lucky, you may see a sarus crane, a very tall grey bird with a red head. Sarus cranes often stay with one partner for many years, and in parts of India they are seen as a symbol of faithful love.

Here is a detail that surprises many visitors. Look out at the lake and you will notice small mounds of earth rising from the water, often topped with trees. These are not random. Mounds like these give birds safe places to roost and nest, away from foxes, jackals, and stray dogs on the shore. In the nesting season, the trees on these little islands can become crowded with storks, cormorants, and egrets. The branches turn white with droppings, and the noise carries across the water.

The water level here is never fixed. Sultanpur is a shallow wetland, and its depth depends on the monsoon rains and on water channelled in from outside. In a good year, the lake spreads wide and the birds come in large numbers. In a dry year, the water shrinks and the mud flats grow. This means no two visits are quite the same. The park you are walking through today may look very different from the photographs you saw before coming.

It is not only birds. Keep an eye on the open grassland and the edges of the scrub. Nilgai, also called blue bulls, sometimes graze here. They are India's largest antelope, with grey-blue coats on the males and a stiff, slightly awkward walk. You might also see mongooses darting across the path, or monitor lizards sunning themselves on warm days. Butterflies gather near the flowering shrubs. The wetland supports a whole small world, from insects in the mud to the birds that feed on them.

As you walk the circuit, you will pass watchtowers and viewing points. These are the best places to pause. From a little height, the lake opens up, and you can see how the birds divide the space. Ducks float in the open water. Waders work the muddy margins. Herons and storks claim the shallows. Bring binoculars if you can. Without them, many birds will look like dark shapes on the water. With them, you start to see colour, pattern, and behaviour.

The light matters here as much as the birds. Early morning is usually the best time. The air is cooler, the birds are more active, and mist sometimes hangs low over the water in winter. Late afternoon has its own reward, when the sun drops and the reeds turn gold. Midday light is flat and harsh, and many birds rest quietly in the shade. Move slowly, speak softly, and give the wildlife space. Patience is the main skill a visitor needs here.

Before you leave, stop for a moment at the edge of the water. Look at the surface and notice the ripples left by a diving duck, or the reflection of the trees on the mounds. Listen to the layers of sound, near and far. Somewhere above you, birds may be arriving after a journey of thousands of kilometres. And just beyond the trees, the city keeps growing. As you walk back to the gate, notice the exact moment the bird calls fade and the traffic returns.