The birds and the bees, a summertime symphony

I wake up to the sound of the Koel. At this predawn (unearthly some may say!) hour it is usually setting its pitch in sweet bursts before beginning its song. By the time I start my yoga I can hear more Koels, some still getting their pitch right while others have begun their sweet melody …….coo.. ooh coo…ooh….. A few minutes into yoga I hear crows starting their day with a few caws here and there.  As my yoga progresses, the crows get louder as do the Koels in competition. There’s a lull ……and that’s the gap the Greater Coucal was looking for to begin its low deeply resonant coop-coop-coop-coop. 

A while later I prepare to wrap up with a few minutes of deep breathing and meditation. I hear the first call of, what I recently learnt is, the White Cheeked Barbet. It starts with a rather explosive trrrrrr then settles down to a rhythmic kutrook-kutrook-kutrook. The Barbet and I, we are both sticklers for time. As dawn breaks there’s the piercing whistle psee-err followed by a staccato si-si-si-si. The black kites have begun soaring into the sky. There are other birds whose calls I don't recognise.   

By the time my husband and I sit in the balcony with our coffees, it’s cacophony out there..... a sunny medley by the avian philharmonic!🎝🎜

Now there’s action too. A flock of parrots fly from the trees on one side to those on the other side, squawking loudly. The crows are busy flying around together cawing noisily. The kites are high up gliding around. Sometimes the crow chases a kite that is flying low. Mostly the kite remains indifferent but suddenly irritated turns around to chase the crow, which then flies away hurriedly. On rare mornings we see a couple of Brahminy kites, lord Vishnu’s ‘Garuda’. Visitors maybe?

The bees are coming out of the hive they have built in a balcony a couple of floors below. The apartment with the hive is unoccupied. And with the lockdown in force, no one has tried to smoke the bees away. Last month they used to appear in a sudden swarm and we’d beat a hasty retreat indoors. But that seems to have passed. Now it’s three or four bees at a time, and we all hang out happily together.

I start on some house chores. I notice a Myna sitting on the windowsill. It is moving its head jerkily looking around with great interest. Brown feathers tipped by bright yellow bill, and the yellow eye patches....that's quite a flamboyant look if you ask me. The Myna decides to take a walk on the sill with quick hops in between, then lets out a loud chattering call. Goodness what was that for? Suddenly with a little squawk it takes flight. I’m in the kitchen when I hear plaintive pleading coos. I turn around to see two pigeons strutting about on the railing in the balcony. They look quite happy romancing, then why the mournful note?

On my morning walks I try to catch a good look at the Sunbirds flitting about filling the air with original tweets! The little things move in and out of trees or bushes so quickly I can barely manage a fleeting glimpse. 

Butterflies in vivid colours hover above the flowers.
A more sober coloured moth seems comfortably perched on the wall.  If I’m lucky I get to see Bulbuls. I think I just heard the ‘metronomic’ call of the Coppersmith Barbet, but I cannot be sure for its white cheeked cousin has begun its boisterous call again. 

These exuberant creatures live in the trees in our neighbourhood. In the midst of urban concrete one small green cover is all it takes to set off this brilliant summertime symphony of the birds and the bees.