ornithology – Simple Moments of Life

A Pigeon’s Point of View

Most afternoons, when a gentle breeze sways the curtains, and the sun shines high above, I have company.

Pigeons visit my balcony, and sit on the railings. If the house is quiet, and I remain perfectly still, the pigeons sometimes brave it into the living room, walk around, and then disappear in a flutter of wings.

This afternoon, there is a pigeon on the railing. He looks at me, and seems to peer into the living room.

Image courtesy – Wikipedia

I try to guess what he sees. Does he see the laptop on my table, and wonder what that strange noise of typing is? Does he see the bits of furniture we have lovingly collected – beautiful bits of wood that once stood as majestic trees.

Does he see the porcelain birds on my TV console? What does he make of them? Does he wonder why they remain static?

Does he hear the music that is playing on my laptop? Does it sound anything like the song birds he knows?

What does he make of the huge coffee mug, from which wisps of steam are rising up and vanishing? Does he think about evaporation, about the sun’s heat and about all the water bodies that are drying up ?

When he sees the rotating fan, does he compare it to the wind whipping through the trees, and the joy he feels when he swoops down on a sunny day!

Does he see the water jug? Does he wonder why the water is contained?

I smile, and watch him. He looks wise, as he ponders over the mysteries of my home. I look at my home through new eyes.

He hangs on for some more time, and then flies away. He joins two other pigeon friends on a neighbour’s window ledge.

As I head back in, I wonder if he is sharing his thoughts with his friends.

The Indian Crow

The sun is not visible today, but it’s heat can still be felt. I stand on my balcony, looking at the traffic at the junction.

My attention is diverted by a streak of bright yellow that is flitting between the branches of a tree. I realize that it is a beautiful oriole, busily going about his day. I keep watching the oriole for a while. My attention is then drawn to the pigeons – sitting on ledges, swooping down, taking a breather. There are so many of them.

Then I begin to wonder. There is not a crow in sight. In fact, I haven’t seen one in the neighbourhood in a long, long time.

I keep seeing mynas, sparrows, parrots and hornbills, but never a crow.

And suddenly I feel nostalgic. Nostalgic for my childhood, where the crow formed an integral part of our lives.

Image courtesy – Wikipedia

Where the crow featured as the hero in many of the stories told to us by our grandmom and aunts – intelligent in some stories, foolish in some stories, thirsty and intelligent in some others. But the crow’s presence in our lives could never be ignored.

Babies were fooled into swallowing uninterestimg vegetables and yummy rasam rice, when a crow swooped into their yards. Babies were mesmerised by this bird, whose caws in the gentle afternoon breeze sounded like lullabies.

When we were growing up, most Indian women would put out some cooked rice for the crows, on their window ledges or terraces, before serving food to the family.

The crows were so used to this that they would show up at the prescribed window ledge or terrace at the appointed hour. And, if for some reason there was a delay in the arrival of their food, the crows would caw loudly, causing the woman of the house to hurry up!

My aunt had names for the crows that visited her window ledge, and would talk to them everyday, and affectionately chide them if they cawed too loudly.

Such was the role that crows played in our childhood. The crow was truly one of our childhood heroes.

The Bulbul’s message

We are at my mom’s, enjoying our summer vacation. We have just had a sumptuous lunch. The children and their cousins are playing a board game in one of the bedrooms.

All the adults are seated or stretched out in the living room, as the day curtains billow in the cool breeze. Each time the curtains billow, one can see the green leaves of the trees outside, glistening in the bright, afternoon sun.

Most of us are trying not to sleep after that heavy lunch. We chat on and off, the pauses and silences are comfortable ones – those that belong to family, to love and to familiarity.

A sudden sweet bird song cuts through this family web. There is a pause, and the bird song plays again.

My sister says, ” Someone’s got a message.”

Hands and bodies reach out to their phones, like the arms of an octopus.

Most people in the room say that the ring tone is not theirs. The bird sound continues.

We quickly discover that there is a ‘real’ Bulbul bird sitting on our balcony, singing away merrily. We gently move the curtains to watch this beautiful bird.

Picture courtesy – Wikipedia

How musical it sounds! How could we even mistake it for a ringtone?

We laugh uneasily. The Bulbul gave us an important message today.

Maybe we should take more time to enjoy the simple pleasures of life, those that are not in any way connected to technology or smartphones.

Of Bird Watching and Halloween

Just got back after a long day at the local bird park. It was a hot and humid day, but we did see some lovely and exotic birds. We walked around the park taking in all the sites and sounds of the various birds. From colourful, squawking macaws and wetlands birds, to birds of prey, we saw them all.

I had my bit of Halloween spookiness at the bird park today. I love taking pictures of flowers, plants and animals. So, there were these beautiful bunches of baby pink flowers hanging from a small tree. I zoomed in to click, when the flowers shook suddenly. There was no breeze. The shaking stopped as suddenly as it had started. I focussed again on the flowers, and would you believe it, the flowers shook again, more violently this time.