In the company of squirrels and sparrows
THEY REMAIN SUSPECT OF HUMAN INTENTIONS AND KEEP A SAFE DISTANCE; YOU MAY CALL IT TRUST DEFICIT
The questions friends often ask me are: So, what keeps you busy? Do you still write? I’ll answer that, but later.
I am not an ornithologist. I do no birding. My knowledge of the avian fauna is limited to a few winged visitors in the neighbourhood park or in the courtyard. I recently realised that watching feathered friends at play, in flight and in fight, is educative and entertaining. I enjoy the company of these accidental acquaintances.
Lazing in the lawn and soaking the winter sun, braving occasional wafts of the cool breeze and munching groundnuts, I watched grey squirrels slyly emerge from the drain hole in the boundary wall or jump from the plantation encircling it and rummage through the leftovers of the groundnuts for a quick bite. Out of consideration, I placed plastic dishes with an assortment of grains and an earthen bowl filled with water for them.
It is a delight to watch the way the agile squirrels furiously nibble away at the fast food and monopolise the grainfilled dishes, scaring away not only their own kin but also birds waiting in the wings, ready to swoop from the Ashoka trees. Their playful antics, sprint-power, dash for cover or the way they snap at each other for exclusive rights over food is a joy to watch.
Every morning, I dutifully fill the feed and water bowls for the visitors, now regulars, and with obvious expectations. Yet, they remain suspect of human intentions and keep a safe distance; you may call it trust deficit. The visitors now include jungle babblers and western treepies, blue rock pigeons, common mynas, parrots and crows.
Among them are two special mynas; one, with a broken wing, the other with a broken leg. They hop and waddle across the lawn to have their pick. Once, the one with the broken wing even hopped on to the table to take pick from our food thali. It literally took a morsel from my mother’s palm; small success in restoring the trust deficit.
The most interesting aspect is the bird bath. The birds perch on the bowl’s rim, look around, dip their beaks for a sip and then dive in, splattering their wings, splashing water all around, and flying off to dry.
Have squirrels and the winged food gatherers learnt to adjust with each other? Not really. Their noisy encounters, quarrels, and to be one up in their competitive pursuits, is akin to human nature.
Often, a thought crosses my mind: Does offering bread or biscuit crumbs or kitchen food waste or an assortment of grains corrupt and interrupt their natural food hunt? Is it right to spoil their natural habits? It is another matter that birding gives me joy and contentment.
This timepass has made me inquisitive so I pulled out Bird Fauna of Punjab- A Visual Treat, gifted by my friend Jai Rup Singh. This well-illustrated book in English-punjabi by his son Arsh and wife Pushpinder gives a bird’s eye view of the state’s bird world, covering all 105 species.
My reply to the opening questions is: A lot keeps me busy from feeding squirrels and sparrows to thinking of and analysing life, as it rolls on. Not doing anything is also doing something. Their reaction: A smile or a smirk or both.