24th – 28th June, 2026
A trip to the Sundarban Biosphere Reserve never fails to lift the spirits. It’s not too far from Kolkata, yet it’s brimming with natural diversity. We just wrapped up our monsoon wildlife group trip here, and it was every bit as memorable as we’d hoped.
Spotting a tiger is always a matter of luck, but on a dedicated wildlife trip, the odds tip a little more in your favour. We cruise the same routes morning and evening, reading pugmarks and the direction of the currents to track where a tiger might be — so the chances of a sighting go up considerably.
But tiger or no tiger, the birds are always out in force. Anyone who claims they didn’t spot a single bird on a Sundarban trip probably wasn’t looking closely enough — because writing off an entire national park as “birdless” is a claim worth thinking twice about.
| 1. Lesser Whistling-Duck |
| 2. Cotton Pygmy-Goose |
| 3. Red Junglefowl |
| 4. Rock Pigeon |
| 5. Eurasian Collared-Dove |
| 6. Spotted Dove |
| 7. Orange-breasted Green-Pigeon |
| 8. Yellow-footed Green-Pigeon |
| 9. Greater Coucal |
| 10. Green-billed Malkoha |
| 11. Pied Cuckoo |
| 12. Asian Koel |
| 13. Common Hawk-Cuckoo |
| 14. Little Swift |
| 15. Asian Palm Swift |
| 16. White-breasted Waterhen |
| 17. Red-wattled Lapwing |
| 18. Tibetan Sand-Plover |
| 19. Bronze-winged Jacana |
| 20. Eurasian Whimbrel |
| 21. Common Sandpiper |
| 22. Common Redshank |
| 23. Little Tern |
| 24. Asian Openbill |
| 25. Lesser Adjutant |
| 26. Little Cormorant |
| 27. Black-crowned Night Heron |
| 28. Little Egret |
| 29. Little Heron |
| 30. Indian Pond-Heron |
| 31. Eastern Cattle-Egret |
| 32. Great Egret |
| 33. Purple Heron |
| 34. Osprey |
| 35. Changeable Hawk-Eagle |
| 36. Shikra |
| 37. Brahminy Kite |
| 38. White-bellied Sea-Eagle |
| 39. Eastern Barn Owl |
| 40. Asian Green Bee-eater |
| 41. Blue-tailed Bee-eater |
| 42. Common Kingfisher |
| 43. Ruddy Kingfisher |
| 44. White-throated Kingfisher |
| 45. Collared Kingfisher |
| 46. Blue-throated Barbet |
| 47. Fulvous-breasted Woodpecker |
| 48. Greater Flameback |
| 49. Black-rumped Flameback |
| 50. Streak-throated Woodpecker |
| 51. Rose-ringed Parakeet |
| 52. Mangrove Pitta |
| 53. Small Minivet |
| 54. Black-winged Cuckooshrike |
| 55. Black-headed Cuckooshrike |
| 56. Mangrove Whistler |
| 57. Black-hooded Oriole |
| 58. Ashy Woodswallow |
| 59. Common Iora |
| 60. White-throated Fantail |
| 61. Black Drongo |
| 62. Bronzed Drongo |
| 63. Indian Paradise-Flycatcher |
| 64. Long-tailed Shrike |
| 65. Rufous Treepie |
| 66. House Crow |
| 67. Large-billed Crow |
| 68. Common Tailorbird |
| 69. Yellow-bellied Prinia |
| 70. Red-whiskered Bulbul |
| 71. Red-vented Bulbul |
| 72. Indian White-eye |
| 73. White-browed Scimitar-Babbler |
| 74. Abbott’s Babbler |
| 75. Jungle Babbler |
| 76. Indian Pied Starling |
| 77. Chestnut-tailed Starling |
| 78. Common Myna |
| 79. Jungle Myna |
| 80. Oriental Magpie-Robin |
| 81. Purple-rumped Sunbird |
| 82. Purple Sunbird |
| 83. House Sparrow |
It’s not just tigers and birds. Sundarban has so much more tucked into its folds. Monitor lizards blend into muddy banks, motionless, almost invisible. Crocodiles lie hidden in the depths of the mangroves. Venomous snakes coil around tree trunks. And above it all, across that vast, open canvas of sky, the weather paints and erases at will — rain-heavy blue clouds one moment, sunlight brushing the green mangroves the next, gone just as quickly.
For those few days of travel, you have to drink it all in — this is a canvas painted by nature’s own hand, a treasury of riches meant to be soaked up fully, with everything you’ve got.
So the next time you head to Sundarban, keep your eyes wide open. Reach out and touch nature — with your hands if you can, with your heart if you can’t. It will never send you away empty-handed.
Monsoon in Sundarban is synonymous with the hilsa fish season for many. We’ve never really been part of that particular celebration, and we’re not likely to start now. Good food makes everyone happy, sure — but a trip built solely around eating is not a trip we’re ever going to run.
When we put out the word about this wildlife trip, quite a few people called in just to ask what would be on the menu! We told them the food would be good, but we couldn’t make promises in advance. This time, despite our best efforts, we couldn’t source aamodi fish, so a fried aamodi platter was off the table too. Honestly, a lot of this comes down to what’s fresh and available on any given day.
If the food were the main draw, we’d have advertised the trip with a menu card. But like all our trips, food takes a back seat — from day one, our focus has always been on the birds and mammals of the Sundarban Biosphere Reserve. And just as there’s no guarantee with the food, there’s no guarantee with wildlife sightings either. We never promised anyone a tiger. That we still managed to show them one — that’s the real win.
Day Three: The Tigress of Dobanki
Today was the third day of our Sundarban trip. We were on the boat by 5 a.m., and the search for the tiger had begun. Every so often, we slowed down to watch birds. Near the forest watchtower by Choragazi Khal, the boat eased off further still — five Brahminy kites, a black-winged kite, and a white-bellied sea eagle circled overhead, while four solemn-faced lesser adjutant storks sat watching. This is exactly why we come to Sundarban in the monsoon — for birds like these. Everyone was thrilled, cameras clicking away.
Then, a flicker of excitement crossed our guide’s face. A call had come in — a tiger had been spotted moving somewhere nearby. The boat swung around at once. The trouble was, those who’d seen it couldn’t quite pin down the exact location, so the search turned into circles — literally. Our large boat wound around and around, scanning every direction with sharp, searching eyes.
After about two hours of circling around Peerkhali Five, near Dobanki camp, we finally found her. A tigress — daughter of Chhotomaa. At around 10:15 a.m., she swam across from our left to our right, casting wary glances at the distant boats as she went.
The way we might anxiously watch trucks, buses, and cars hurtling past while crossing a busy highway — that’s exactly the kind of nervous, watchful look in her eyes. She swam swiftly across the Dobanki channel, passed in front of seven or eight astonished boats, and in moments, her mud-streaked body vanished into the dense mangroves.
A trip like this is a reminder of why Sundarban keeps pulling us back — not for guarantees, but for the sheer unpredictability of what the wild decides to show you.
