The Abandoned Stages: Why Some Lek Sites Fell Silent Over Time

The Abandoned Stages: Why Some Lek Sites Fell Silent Over Time 

Once, the short grasses trembled under wings. A flash of black and white feathers rose into the air, followed by a soft, deliberate landing. In the same spot, day after day, season after season, the male Bengal Florican returned to perform. This patch of grass was his world, his heritage, his voice in the wilderness. 

But today, there is no flutter. No leap. No audience. The stage stands empty. 

This is the story of those once-sacred grounds—the abandoned display sites of the Bengal Florican. Spaces that once throbbed with ritual now stand in stillness. The dancers no longer come. The reasons are not obvious, but they are significant. These lost leks reveal not only changes in behavior but subtle shifts in the relationship between bird and habitat. 

A Theatre Gone Dark 

The lek is not just a place—it is a commitment. Bengal Florican males show remarkable site fidelity, returning to the same patch year after year to perform the same ritual display. These sites are more than open ground. They are finely tuned stages shaped by landscape, vegetation, drainage, and history. 

And so, when a lek falls silent, it signals more than absence. It suggests disruption. 

In a detailed study, researchers revisited lek sites identified decades earlier. While some remained active, others had been abandoned. These weren’t arbitrary sites. They were documented, mapped, and once considered prime display areas. 

What changed? 

The silence pointed not to the birds—but to the ground beneath them. 

The Grass Has Grown Too Tall 

One of the most consistent patterns in abandoned lek sites is a change in vegetation structure. Grass that was once short and sparse—ideal for display—has grown tall, dense, and impenetrable. 

This change is not always dramatic. It may involve the spread of new grass species, an increase in undergrowth, or the simple absence of grazing animals. But for the Bengal Florican, such changes are critical. A few inches of extra height can obscure visibility. A thicker base can limit takeoff. A new shrub line can block the direction of display. 

The male Florican is a dancer that relies on precision. When the stage changes, he cannot improvise. He moves on. 

The study confirms that all the unoccupied former display sites were now structurally different from the active ones—more overgrown, less open, further from vital drainage features. 

When Water Changes Its Mind 

Another silent culprit is water—or rather, its absence or misdirection. Seasonal drainage patterns shape the vegetation mosaic of the Terai. When water flows consistently, it keeps certain areas moist and others dry, influencing what grows where. 

But if the path of water shifts—even slightly—it can reconfigure the entire microhabitat. Grasses that once thrived disappear. Others invade. Soil texture changes. Shade patterns shift. 

Several abandoned display sites once lay adjacent to seasonal drainage canals. Over time, due to erosion, obstruction, or human activity, those drainage routes changed. The grasses followed suit. And the Floricans? They followed the grasses. 

The Ghost of Performance Past 

Walking through an abandoned lek is eerie. You see the landscape through the eyes of memory. There, the slight depression where the male once landed. There, the short ridge where he would leap. Everything looks familiar, yet wrong. 

It’s like returning to an old theatre that no longer hosts plays. The chairs are there, the stage lights broken, the scripts forgotten. The absence is louder than the applause once was. 

For researchers, these sites are not failures. They are indicators. They speak of subtle environmental changes invisible to the eye but loud to the behavior of the Florican. 

A Ritual Displaced, Not Discarded 

Importantly, abandonment does not mean extinction. The males that once used these sites may still perform—elsewhere. New display patches may have been established nearby, in territories that now better fit their ecological needs. 

What this suggests is flexibility within loyalty. The Florican is not stubborn. He honors his ritual, but not at the cost of safety or success. When the land no longer holds its promise, he moves. 

This movement is not random. It seeks similar environmental cues: short grasses, visibility, adjacency to tall cover, and low disturbance. It is a shift, not a severance. 

What the Silent Grounds Teach Us 

The silence of abandoned leks is not just a loss. It is a lesson. It teaches us that habitat is dynamic. That even the slightest changes in hydrology, grazing patterns, or grassland succession can reshape how a species uses space. 

For conservationists, this means that preserving “protected areas” is not enough. It means maintaining the character of those areas. Monitoring vegetation growth. Understanding how water moves. Allowing herbivores to graze. And making sure the very qualities that make a lek suitable today are not lost tomorrow. 

The Bengal Florican does not ask for much. But what it asks for must remain consistent. Not large spaces, but familiar ones. Not untouched wilderness, but carefully maintained grassland rhythm. 

Bibliography (APA Style): 

Verma, P., Bhatt, D., Singh, V. P., & Dadwal, N. (2016). Behavioural Patterns of Male Bengal Florican (Houbaropsis bengalensis) in Relation to Lek Architecture. Journal of Environmental Biology, 30(1), 259–263. Retrieved from https://connectjournals.com/pages/articledetails/toc025323