Birds and babes

Of late, I notice that I reflect more often. Not because I am sad or lonely or unwell but because things I did not notice earlier I have now grown to observe and listen to carefully and they mellow the perceptive side of me that I had unconsciously suppressed over the years.

I am excited about the sunrise each day and the misty morning coolness, burst of birdsong and fresh flowers it brings along with it. I look forward to watering the plants on the terrace and hoping the newest arrival, the bulbul couple, will take advantage of the slightly extra water the pots hold and drink daintily. Our daily visitors are the chirpy starlings who make short but sudden appearances and even take the odd bath on a particularly hot day, fluffing themselves up and then startling us by a loud, sharp trill followed by an unseemly swift take off.

The kites and the crows have become familar neighbours too, the former dignified in their long, lofty and regal statuesque stations on top floor terraces of apartment buildings while the latter greet you with a raucous cackle, not trusting enough to come too close but acquainted enough to sit and stare at you with interest. Don't be surprised though if they jump off brusquely, should you attempt to address them or stride into some smalltalk. 

The funniest but unfortunately also the most annoying avian neighbours however happen to be the pigeons. Shoo them away a million times but they do not seem to get the message that all clean surfaces are not meant to be toilet territory. Not only that, I've seen birds of a feather indeed flock together (pun certainly intended) but defecate together?! Well, that one has to be a first. I assure you, I was both amused and repulsed by my first hand observation of this utterly scandalous conduct. They also remind me of the street dogs who wait till the eleventh hour to remove their furry girth from the middle of the road. I've always wondered, do they think they can will the nervous driver into changing tracks with some hitherto undiscovered form of canine voodoo?

Last but not least today, let us come back to the bulbuls. A particular persistent couple tried their best to conceptualise the upper base of our verandah fan as full of nesting possibilities. After we cleared off the straw and associated debris, they gave up the idea and switches to the first floor verandah instead of our neighbours, who returned from a week's trip to find some unexpected additions to their ranks. However, I was thrilled beyond measure to hear a sharp trilling one dawn a couple of months ago and a red flecked black hooded creature eyeing me warily from, once again, the upper base of our verandah fan. The bamboo curtains (chik) needed to be downed several times a day thereafter to convey the message that we were amiable humans but not ready yet to foster bulbul babies in our cherished tiny slice of verdant heaven.

(To be continued...)