UNEXPECTED VISITORS

I always enjoyed reading Gerald Durrell and James Herriot. Their books made such interesting read and helped me live through so many idle afternoons in my days of youth. Neither am I an animal rights activist or a PETA fan or a SPCA member nor do I carry around packets of Marie biscuits to feed my canine brothers and sisters living in the neighbourhood . I just loved the way these two writers brought all those creatures great and small so close to us .They made them one of us, bringing out all their little emotions and instincts which we are so familiar with .Often smitten by the snide remarks of many a relative, a book titled Birds, Beasts and Relatives or My Family and Other Animals had a particular personal appeal and made extremely desirable reads in my growing up days. And, of course, who can re-create the bright and beautiful, wise and wonderful world of the unforgettable vet peppered with his brilliant wit and sprinkled with dollops of humour.

These days, too, I am once again at peace enjoying the company of my lesser known guests who call on me in my apartment on the 17^th floor of a typical multi-storied structure in a Mumbai suburb. They are probably visitors you least expect amongst these blocks of concrete but they do come and give me company and I am actually growing quite fond of them.

The regulars of course are those belonging to the family of Columbidae but I will come to them later. Those who come every day or rather are permanent residents do not fall in the category of revered ‘guests’.

Among the less frequent ones is one Mr. Raven. He is truly ‘as black as a…….’; there’s no mistake about his identity. My 81 year old mother hates him the most especially when he is sitting at the window cawing with all his lung power. The reason being, his cawing forebodes ill-luck. Remember Julius Caesar:

“And in their steads do ravens, crows, and kites,

Fly o'er our heads, and downward look on us,

As we were sickly prey.” 

Then we have Mr. and Mrs. Mynah. They come off and on, not every day. I prefer to see them as a couple because once again seeing only one may bring sorrow…You have to be very alert. All the birds sound different and you need to have sharp ears to catch who is at the window. That’s how I never miss Mr. and Mrs. Parrot (actually rose-ringed parakeets, green bodied and red beaked). They come very often but do not like to stay for long. Sometimes they bring their friends along and it is a treat to see them all sitting in a row. Their home is not far away, two huge trees in the next compound. As I water my plants every morning, I see a flight of them leaving their homes and again as the sun is setting they make their way back.

This little bird world is often disturbed by the mighty King Kite. I think he has his throne perched on our rooftop and the day the king decides to swoop down for a kill, there is mayhem all around. The big ones, the little ones, the fat ones and lazy ones are all flying hither and thither ,all trying to be out of his range, as he first soars, then circles the Goregaon sky and finally swoops down on the catch. I watch till peace returns and the king has settled down with his prey, may be a big one or just a fledgling. However, the hunter always alerts his prey with a shrill call before swooping down- the shrill piercing cry of the kite is truly spine chilling.

The tailor-bird, my little Tuntuni, loves to come and swing on the branches of my Bougainvillaea. I love to hear her sing…but those ‘terrorists’ never allow us each other’s company for long.

One day I think I saw a sparrow…but it was for such a fleeting moment that I am not too sure. The urbanization and concretization that we chose for ourselves have made the sparrows an endangered species today. It was not too long ago, when we were kids, we did see so many of them everywhere, even nesting inside our homes. But now they are gone…  ‘gone to graveyards, everyone’ .Do you realize that our children are growing up in these cities seeing skyscrapers cropping up every other day but not the house sparrows collecting twigs and straw to build their nests?

And would you like to know a little more about my other visitors? There were the Squirrel Twins who even made a home just above my living room window. The first time I spotted them, there were three of them- Mother and the Twins. The Mother must have been on the lookout for a safe place to give birth. Soon the mother left and the twins could be seen coming out of their hideout, playing hide- and- seek among my potted plants, nibbling on the leaves, gnawing at the thin branches. Finally, I could see only one of them .When the house was all quiet, especially in the mornings and afternoons, this young fellow would come out his den, frolic around, eat my plants, nibble at the pods, and then, not satisfied with one window-sill garden, would move on to the next window. He had become so bold that even when I went and stood at the window he would continue with his nibbling and chewing. Once, he even made his way through an open window into my guest room! Imagine a squirrel inside a house- I had never seen one before! In my childhood I had seen squirrels living only on trees and every time you approached them they would vanish. I guess, when we humans encroach on their homes, they will enter our houses. Once inside the room, he completely panicked. He was scampering here and there, on the television, jumping from it, falling into the waste-paper basket, coming out of it, running up the book-shelf. All lost, confused, confounded. I left the window wide open for him, shut the door and left the room. I let him find his way out.

Now let me turn to the little rogues of the Columbidae family who have completely terrorized my life. I think they have enrolled with the IS. Each one is a little Kalashnikov- they don’t have to carry one.  I admit that these stocky and stout birds do not look like terrorists nor do they lead the lives of terrorists. But they are completely capable of turning your world upside down, creating havoc and ravaging your peaceful existence. In an earlier piece on the same blog, my daughter was charmed by their loves and quarrels but I, for one, am not at all impressed with them. With my little knowledge of the world of flora and fauna, I thought doves and pigeons belonged to the same family and so the pigeons, like their sisters, the doves, would be harbingers of peace. I have been proven completely wrong- they are such a menace. Sadly, unlike the other guests, they do not visit for a short while, they are there always- day and night. In my house you will be woken up in the middle of the night or wee hours of the morning to a sudden loud thud. With an octogenarian living with you, who is also osteoporotic and a cerebral stroke survivor, that is probably the last sound you wish to hear. As you rush to her bed and find her sleeping peacefully, the thudding grows into pounding. Remember Daphne du Maurier ’s  The Birds, in which the birds attack the humans, made popular by Hitchcock’s classic thriller? Yes, it’s the pigeons banging against my bathroom window. The glass panes need to be cleaned twice a week; they completely defy ‘Swachh Bharat’ and follow their own dictum of “Gandgi Machao’. They have digested more plants and saplings from my window gardens than I have managed to save. With constant cooing and insatiable lovemaking they can completely erase the word peace from your life. If that is not enough, they refuse to build nests and instead lay eggs inside my flower pots. Last, but not the least, they stroll into my house and once inside they are so perplexed that, even if the window is completely opened up, they do not know how to get out. The fans have to be switched off, before there is bloodbath, doors closed and these fatsoes have to be literally shoved out of the windows. By then the whole room is in absolute mess.  

Even then, neither do I want to be caged in behind bird-proof nets nor do I wish to have an air-conditioned existence. So, for the company of a few good guests I have to learn to be tolerant.

DS