A Note on Birds

Birds are amusing, unorthodox creatures. I like to observe them, pay my taxes, and try catching new ones

Garden is my chosen spot to meditate. As I journal, chorus of random conversations flow. Starlings calling their mates, bulbuls trilling while surveying perimeter, a magpie robin testing water bowls, squirrels sneaking around, pigeons (of course) landing on parapets, a pair of mourning doves checking in my direction.

I have laid a small feast (aforementioned tax) some distance away. Millet, grapes, biscuits, nuts to tempt the wildlings. They are wary guests at first, but I believe they like familiarity, like us. They’ve gotten used to my quiet presence, I can take out phone and click pictures — they do not care a lot.

Only rare company brings such bliss. It’s a wonderful feeling.

Setting traps

Someone in Reddit pointed out — birds are paid actors. Which is natural, as we don’t give them reason otherwise to come close to us. They are always on the qui vive. Rightly so.

We must offer them some food and water in a usually predator-free area —almost like the trees do.

Birdwatchers can also vouch for the fact that planting fruit trees (fast growers like figs, guava, mulberries are crowd favourites) and super vines (like thunbergia, clematis, rangoon creeper) for natural food and cover produce guaranteed results in terms of varieties of visitors, if birdfeeders ain’t your thing.

I vouch for water bowls. Solar powered fountain or shallow bowls of fresh water mean an instant hit in gardens. Water features are helpful for other wildling types as well.

More on birdbaths here.

Once the news spreads, the crowd thickens. It’s a gushing, proud feeling when the parrots and babblers bring kids to show them the ol’ watering hole. Years ago we had created a list of birds who used to visit our old place. Birdwatchers know the joy.

The devil is in the details

Birds are individualistic, very crafty. The fun for me lies in observing their habits and expressions.

A particularly eccentric Rufous treepie I knew liked to peck on kibbles. My absolute favourites are the Indian silverbill finches, they have graceful little personalities. Fancy black male and boring female cuckoos drinking water thoughtfully, pausing every now and then to wonder at existence (I guess). Indian robins are bravehearts, anyone who notes their habits knows them to be fearless (vicious flying missiles for the clueless cat crossing a wall) and boldly vocal.

Talking of ‘bold’, we once watched a 6-pack of jungle babblers corner a stealthy kite and shove her out unceremoniously (peels of protest, revolt) from the fig tree where she was sitting contemplating next murder.

Barbets hunting for grubs in the thorny brinjal bush. Abundant blue blooms of thunbergia welcoming the long, down-curved bills of iridescent purple and olive-backed sunbirds. Common swifts and drongos soaring elegantly through the sunset skies.

Vigorous bathing ensues as winter intensifies. Bulbuls, starlings, sparrows, babblers, white-eyes take turns to complete cold rituals twice a day.

Once I caught a white-throated kingfisher preening itself while sloshing in water in a 8-inch earthen bowl. Gorgeous flash of blue, gone with the wind.

It’s true, a thing of beauty is joy forever.

Thoreau, a bird-watcher, famously said that he could spend from dawn till noon sitting in his doorway surrounded by trees and birds.

I see his point.

Bird-watching has been a transcendental experience for me.

Photos © Shreyasi

Another birding essay you might like -

If you enjoyed this essay, take a look at Beth Bruno’s lovely article -

Louise Peacock’s joyful note -

Erika Burkhalter’s stunning photostory -

& you’re sure to love the beautiful photos in Jack Shepherd’s