Early morning. Unhurried and peaceful. A time to sit out in the balcony with my cup of coffee, feel the freshness of the cool breeze and listen to the trill of bird song. As I watch them chatter, squabble, mate, and play, I am struck by their resemblance to humans. They are not just like us—birds are us!
Best friends forever
The bulbuls are the best friends everyone needs! They are there every morning, always bright and cheery, but never noisy or intrusive. Always ready to lend a ear, listening intently, head cocked a little to one side! Nor are they ever too busy to exchange a little treetop gossip with friends even as they go about their humdrum daily chores. Never afraid to explore, never missing anything new, their eyes bright with curiosity; the bulbuls are my favourites. Forever.
The aerial artistes
The overhead wires are favoured spots the aerial acrobats – the drongos and the bee-eaters. Self-effacing and quiet, but experts in their field. Alert to every movement, alive to every opportunity, they are a picture of poise and concentration. They execute their short sallies and deft mid-air manoeuvres with breathtaking precision and skill, seldom missing their target.
A little further off, sits the solitary kingfisher, watchful and motionless. Its attention is unwavering, its absorption complete, its mind steadfast! In a flash of blue, it dives. Like Arjuna’s arrow it will find its piscine target unerringly.
In the shrubbery
A noisy flap of feathers by the poolside announces the arrival of the coucal, that bossy landlord of the shrubbery. It struts pompously around the perimeter of the pool, its belligerent red eye peeking at nooks and corners, disturbing its nesting tenants. The intrusion sparks off a chorus of indignant protests from the LBB’s – the little brown birds- the flowerpeckers, the warblers, the fantails, the tailor birds. These little birds go about their lives happily and busily, largely invisible and anonymous; like the many people who touch our lives and enrich them.
Lovebirds
Meanwhile the mating season arrives, and there is much dance and drama on display! The resident coucal chases its rival in love with warning hisses and short feints, while the fantail pirouettes and whistles to attract a mate! The munia flies afar to find the softest grasses for its nest, while the Asian koel pours its heart out in a bewitching love song! Then there is the male purple sunbird who launches a shrill attack at its own mirror image at the window. Poor deluded creature— imagining an enemy where none exists, injuring no-one but itself in its jealous rage! In love as in life, birds are us!
Preening pigeons and cuckolded crows
The pigeons preen and puff and congratulate themselves for having conquered the urban world so successfully. Supremely unaware that they are considered pests, litterers and rampant colonisers! The mynahs could tell them, but does anyone ever pay attention to the voices of commoners? None heed the lapwing‘s pitiful cry for help, either, as it is dispossessed of its land. The parakeets merely fly away to greener pastures, screeching noisily. The Page 3 of the bird world is reserved for exotic migrants, flamboyant feathers, unusual looks – the flamingoes, peacocks, and hornbills! We take for granted those whom we see everyday, till they are gone – like the sparrows of yesteryear.
The crows ‘caw’ngregate every evening on elevated parapets and rooftops to debate noisily the issues of the day. Their raucous debates are endless, but nothing ever changes in the real world! Despite their famed intelligence, they continue to be cuckolded by their wily cousin. With its seductive notes, the cuckoo so charms the listener that it not just evades punishment but gets exalted in odes! Such is the way of the avian (and human) world! Verily, birds are us!
Meanwhile, high up against the blue sky, the kite circles; borne to great heights by the strength of its own powerful wings. The world is at its feet. Gifted with extraordinary vision to notice the smallest movement in its realm, he can see the injured, the weak, the vulnerable. To be protector… or predator? It is a choice only the kite can make. Or will it forever remain a prisoner of its destiny?