I
was skimming through the newspaper while I was drinking hot chai when an
article titled ‘Watching birds near home eases sadness and worries’ caught my
attention. It was a study on the effect of neighbourhood environmental
characteristics on mental health of urban dwellers. They reported a negative association between
anxiety, depression, stress and bird abundance and vegetation cover in the
neighbourhood. I was intrigued by their findings as I had been experiencing the
above in the past few months myself. I have been living in a city for about 6
years now, and had underestimated the bird diversity supported by these
concrete jungles. My appreciation of nature was limited to a few early morning
birdwatching sessions, which happened once in a blue moon. But then something
changed my life in the metro.
On a Friday morning in October 2016, I was getting ready for
the office when I heard a bird calling. I looked through the window and found a
myna sitting on the African tulip tree that has reddish-orange flowers. I
looked at my watch and convinced myself that I could afford a few minutes for
admiring nature. So I rushed to the terrace with my brand new DSLR and got a
decent snap of the myna. Then, to my surprise I spotted a white-cheeked barbet
on the same tree few branches below. For some reason, I couldn’t believe that I
would find a barbet! I thought I would see them only in the suburbs or near
forests. Busy life in the city had clearly made me oblivious to the surrounding
beings. Inspired by my success that morning at spotting my non-human
neighbours, I decided to give birdwatching a more frequent shot.
I was awakened the following morning by the call of
parakeets as opposed to the whistling and shouting of the Raddhiwala who visits early in the morning. It was 6.30AM and I
jumped out of the bed eagerly to see what nature had for me for the day. I was
on the terrace again with my camera. To my pleasant surprise, within an hour, I had seen a shikra (that was being
chased by few crows), rose-ringed parakeets, male and female Asian koel (the female was constantly being
chased by the crows and the male was always “under cover”), pale billed flower
pecker, scaly-breasted munia (which was perched at the highest point of the fig tree
singing to its heart's content, head swaying from side to side), a flock of birds that looked like
little swiftlets along with the usual hovering black and brahminy kites, and
the resident blue rock (feral) pigeons. Not only did I get to see many
different kinds of birds, but also I was fascinated by the behavioural
idiosyncrasies of the different species. The crows, for example, were quite
territorial and it didn’t matter whether it was a parakeet, koel or a raptor,
they would chase it. But the icing on the cake was an unexpected winter visitor,
black-naped oriole that was perched on the top-most branch of the peepal tree.
That early morning encounter was nothing but encouraging, and motivated me even
further to start documenting the birds that I see every day. I uploaded some of
the exciting sightings on a website, ebird.org, which allows people to record
their bird sightings in a meticulous way.
Most
of my bird sightings were on 5 tree species namely, African tulip (Spathodea campanulata), jamun (Syzygium cumini), Indian rosewood (Dalbergia sissoo), fig (Ficus racemosa) and peepal (Ficus religiosa). To share my findings and excitement, I created an album titled ‘My
Non-Human Neighbours’ on Facebook and starting sharing images of all the bird
species that I spotted. I hoped that it would encourage my friends to also take
up this activity and add more colour to their lives.
 |
From
top left: Rose-ringed parakeet on peepal, purple-rumped sunbird on jamun, Asian
koel, Shikra
From
bottom left: Cinereous tit, black-naped oriole on fig, pond heron on African
tulip, white-cheeked barbet
|
Towards
the end of October, my bird-watching was hindered by the fireworks that were a
part of Diwali. The number of bird species that visited, reduced during the
subsequent days of celebration. I lost interest in my newfound hobby and
started to slack off a bit. On a cold winter morning, as I was contemplating
whether to get up or not while still tucked inside a warm blanket, I heard a
shrill call, and I immediately got out of bed to investigate the source. I saw
a golden oriole calling from behind the leaves of the peepal tree. This felt like the universe was
telling me to get back to bird-watching. The oriole became a regular visitor
thereafter.
I
did not just limit the bird watching sessions to morning hours. Whenever I was
on the terrace, I kept an eye out for our non-human neighbours. One night,
while I was on the phone talking to my parents, I saw a spotted owlet perched
on the electric wires on the opposite side of the road. In my excitement, I
said good night to my parents in haste, and phoned my friend who was residing
in the floor beneath to share my discovery.
I haven’t been as lucky with mammals. One morning my housemate complained that
she was woken up by ‘noisy birds’, but I later realized that she was referring
to squirrel calls. They keep running and hopping on the trees and the wires. On
rare occasions, I have spotted fruit bats, but mostly at dusk. The diversity in
this city never ceases to amaze me but more importantly, has motivated me to be
more perceptive of the other organisms we share our space with. One day when I
was watching the birds, I saw ‘someone’ walking on four limbs on the parapet.
It was a bonnet macaque!
In
the past 6 months, I have spotted 27 bird species just from my terrace. With
time, it grew into a healthy obsession of wanting to see new species and
experience the immense joy that comes with it. While I cannot deny that we are
unfortunate residents of this concrete jungle, with limited time and
opportunities to spend admiring nature, it is our responsibility to make the
best of what we have. I have realized
that one doesn’t have to go far in search of happiness when might be just
outside your abode. All you have to do is spend some time, even if it is few
minutes, exploring your neighbourhood and look out for your non-human friends. 