“Olive-backed sunbird! Male and female,” I shouted excitedly.
Locked in at home, we have developed an evening walk-in-the-terrace routine. The scene is the same every day: blue-grey skies, green treetops and criss-crossing wires. Yet every evening, the terrace beckons with fresh air and the birds.
I had never known that the green barbet, smaller than a parrot, could muster the energy to make such loud, incessant calls.
Brown specks
But the tiny brown birds, darting across and disappearing into the dense green canopy of a roadside orchid tree, continued to evade my efforts at finding their name. One day, the feeble calls from the bedroom on the first floor connected immediately with the memory of a baby sparrow falling off the nest in the cup of the ceiling fan. Heart thumping with excitement, we tiptoed to a mix of disappointment and delight. One of the elusive little birds from the orchid tree was perched on the window grille, desperately fluttering its wings to get past the glass. I took a few cautious steps, to slide open the windowpane, but as I got nearer, the “chiv, chiv” distress calls grew louder and I retracted.
On the outer side of the windowpane appeared another bird, hitting the glass with its beak. I noticed that the one outside was more colourful and had an iridescent blue chest. “It is the partner,” I said. “But how did he hear her call across the glass?”
I swiftly went ahead and slid the windowpane gently. When a draught of air came in, the trapped bird flew out. I wondered if the birds believed that the timely arrival of one got the other out! But then don’t we also come under similar delusions?
With our perspective limited by the sense organs, it is indeed hard to comprehend the role of a larger hand. But there is no denying that the bird helped herself by calling for help. It got one of her kind to arrive. Most important, the plea was heard by one who had the power to bestow deliverance.
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