A ear for the birds

Or how to continue a forest safari in the city!

Last Sunday afternoon, I watched a red vented bulbul peacefully flitting from branch to branch as my neighbours slept. Afternoons are my favourite part of everyday. And here’s one more reason why Sunday afternoons win. With the silence around us, the bulbul moved undisturbed, turning this way and that, silently and quickly. Busy yet casually free. Only birds flaunt such vibes.  

Today I’m really excited because there are new flowers on our coconut tree. And I know the sunbirds will definitely come for them! So I’ve positioned myself just so I can work, with a ear out for them. Literally, and with fingers crossed I'm telling myself, let’s see :) 

Two neighbouring trees (in the foreground) where most of my bird watching happens on one side of the windows. Spot the golden coconut flowers :)

I wasn’t at all like this. In fact, this version of ‘me’ is a sub-2-year toddler. In early 2023, we went for yet another forest safari. But this one was different, in a quieter forest. And with a gifted pair of binoculars, my eyes reached far corners, watching birds in all their HD glory. I don’t think I realised how moved I was, to see colours of camouflage and dazzling bright plumage. What a wonder to see the black hooded oriole and Indian grey hornbill just as they are, as they perch! I’ve seen all their photos, but it’s something to see them live. To see birds pulsate with life. The way they move, their bobbing tail, or the throb in their necks extending to their bodies. How they sit and casually poop. All of it. And there’s much more.

I was disciplined on that trip, listing the 32 birds we saw. 

But better than the numbers, I came back with eyes that can’t unsee and ears now stretched for them, to catch the flitting birds as I can. More’s the wonder for that quick second before they pass, making it both a patient and thrilling exercise. 

I’m novice-ing and toddler-ing with my neighbourhood birds since. This morning I spent minutes watching a small brown bird, unable to figure out if it’s a sparrow or someone else. It’s definitely sparrow-like, but not quite. There’s another rust coloured bird I've been noticing, which looks different but I don’t know who. Sometimes I also mistake crows for other birds, and look away most embarrassed after all that careful study. 

If crows are obvious and pigeons mundane, mynahs are the loud neighbourhood uncles and aunties. I saw a busy one today, shouting his head off as he walked up and down a stretch. I wonder what was on his mind. His to-do list? Just morning greetings? Singing? As you can see I’m easily entertained. 

We will soon leave this house, and I will definitely miss these birds. Even in our dense urban jungles, I hope to find new bird friends where we go next. Try keeping your ears out for them and you’ll know what I mean. How you can’t un-hear or un-see them, once you bring them in, and the wonder of their everyday motion. 

PS. Later in the day, a sunbird did come. Happy humming, jumping, bobbing, even showing off her trippy neck, and yes my ears led me to her :) 

This essay is for Sappy da, for the gift of the binoculars and all his stellar bird photography