Birds of passage

We awakened slowly in the dark, to the loud, lonely song of fast trills and sharp whistles before the morning rays slanted through the windows, cutting across the floorboards.

Hanging on a hook from the ceiling was the neat wire and wood cage housing the prized lone, little black bird, with gleaming feathers and the distinctive inflated dark brown chest, owned by our father. He was an avid songbird enthusiast like ongoing obsessed generations of Guyanese men, caring for the chirping champion chestnut-bellied lesser seed finch or territorial “towa towa” perhaps a misnomer of legendary skills to “tower, tower” over lower beings.

On searing days, we would give the beautiful bird a gentle spray as it flitted from perch to perch. Attached to a corner of the enclosure, was our only piece of Japanese bone china, mysteriously acquired by Dad. A tiny, delicate cup coloured dark blue and bearing a flying dragon chasing the flaming sun or pearl, it would be held up to the light for scrutiny, to ensure the transparence was free of any dirt before we carefully filled it up with water. We would replenish the seed box, clean the pull-out tray and hang up the calcium-rich cuttlefish bone. At weekends, my brothers would search along the swollen trenches for the fat fronds of fresh grass seeds favoured by the creature in its natural habitat. Moulting was a precarious period when the cage had to be covered with a thick, black cloth.

Called the bullfinch in Trinidad, the once widespread wild species, although not officially endangered, is now rare on the island and along Guyana’s densely inhabited coast, with the competitive singing male having been relentlessly hunted across South and Central America for the flourishing pet trade, becoming true to its other name, an expensive, popular avian “curio.” Females who are a drab dull umber outstrip the courting songsters in some areas as babies are targeted and breeding pairs broken up, with the catchers heading into the interior.

On sunny days, our father would proudly take the bird out for walks joining his cage-carrying friends at certain street corners in a time-honoured national ritual and rite of passage that transcended politics, race, religion and roads. The aptly-named Sundays would see them gathered early on the village green in all-men socializing sessions to chat and compete in the century-old “bird races” battling for bragging rights of best vocalist determined within a set time, plus cash sums and drinks.

Closely related to the all-black thick-billed seed finch known as the “twa twa,” the “towa towa” would be joined by keen competitors and similar finches like the gray seedeater or “picoplat” not as valued for their throat prowess. One evening, Dad’s special specimen attached to the sun-washed lattice partition outside the back door disappeared. Eventually overcoming his heartbreak, he deliberately acquired from the La Penitence and Stabroek markets, the less popular species, a male “mountain,” then a “fire red” which both quickly went the way of the former. He settled in resignation for a cheaper black and white “moustache” or “stache” so termed because of the characteristic white pattern across the sides of the face of the lined seedeater, which is common in shrubland and pastures. By then, the family had learnt to keep watch or keep inside.

Birds are now bigger business than my Dad and any hardheaded collector could have ever predicted, for the wild Guyanese male “towa towa” is long believed to be the greatest finch performer. Nearly two decades ago, following the heightened security measures and intensive checks in the wake of the 9/11 tragedy, puzzled New York airport authorities finally began noticing a peculiar practice among incoming passengers from Guyana. They found lesser seed finches sedated and stuffed in bright-hued hair curlers and plain toilet paper rolls, stuck in soft socks and strung in stockings, locked in plastic cylinders and under luggage linings, and even taped to suspiciously endowed groins. If a bird in the hand was worth at least two in the bush, birds in the pants were apparently proving priceless especially in Queens where hundreds have been sent to our deep pocketed immigrants, destined for illegal but serious Spring song contests judged between two matching males in settings like Smoky Hill. In 2012, RichmondHill based Guyanese, Shivashtil Ramrattan, then 22 and formerly of Corentyne, Berbice was caught trying to leave with a pair of coveted “towa towas” concealed in curlers within his crotch. Ramrattan said he was taking back the birds as pets to the United States of America (USA) and was fined $100,000.

Another lucky smuggler paid a fine of just $10,000 in 2008 for his 28 freshly-tranquilized “towa towa” and two “twa twa” birds in boxes and plastic containers hidden in a scanned suitcase. No bird brain, Reepdewan Gupta Sukhram, 44, of North Carolina, USA and Betsy Ground, East Canje, claimed in his toe-curling tale, “This is the first time that I am doing this” convincing the court he was a “bird lover” with a huge cage in his garage holding 75 types from all over the world. Strangely, the only birds he did not have were those from Guyana. “I bought them at $2,500 apiece. They are wild birds from up the Berbice River,” Sukhram said. He stood to make thousands in profit even with likely fatalities given the harrowing conditions under which the fragile birds travel.

With the help of some corrupt officials, both cops and Customs, Guyanese have been smuggling birds on short flights within the region at least since the 1980s, when foreign exchange was severely restricted. They quickly graduated to the North American markets dominated by the lucrative diaspora customer crowds in the Big Apple. Long skirts and loose trousers proved the choice wear for couriers on the frequent five hour-long flights, working for the biggest bird dealers based in areas like