The life of BulBuls
Three weeks back, I celebrated the birth of three baby birds, from the Red-Vented Bulbul family. The delicate, and gentle birds popped out of an array of purple and red eggs, like freshly ripened pods. This was the first time, I was so close to these mighty creatures. The mother Bulbul chose our garden for nesting and the mother's behavior was extremely similar to human mothers'. I always thought monkeys were closest to humans but now, I have realised that birds too are very similar to us and at times even more emotional and sentimental that we, human beings. They, too have relationships, problems, emotions and feelings. Just like human mothers take care of their children, I have come to the utter realisation that mother Bulbuls too are connected to their babies.
My relationship with these Bulbuls, first started when I noticed that the mother Bulbul sat on top of her nest, all day long without taking a single break. She sat on the nesting eggs, all day and night, bereft of all hunger and movement. She rarely would be hindered or distracted by the sight of other birds flying, because there was only one thing she wanted. She wanted to her children to be hatched in a safe and sound manner and wanted healthy baby birds. She didn't even care about herself.
She was completely devoted to her nesting eggs. And even after the birds were born, the mother bird was not any less devoted. She would stay amongst them, feeding them as the hatch lings would shove their soft beaks towards the mother, in attempt to eat a variety of foods like insects, ants and pulses. The mother had to feed them all day, from 6 am to 7 pm, every 15 minutes. And without a doubt, she followed this routine strictly for the entire first week,
And if there was any disturbance, she would violently attack anyone in her way, like a bullet from a missile. Even if I went near the baby birds, the mother bird would ambush, in a way nobody could imagine. She had to follow her routine and any hindrance to her process could possibly be a threat to her nestlings. This showed the intensity of their connection and love towards each other.
Unfortunately, luck wasn't by her side. At the end of the first week, it poured like cats and dogs and the rain lashed against the nest and the droplets must have gone through the baby birds' nostrils. Only one bird survived. I call him 'Bravo'. He must have been the strongest of the gang and the healthiest. The mother bird gropes for Bravo all throughout the day as she doesn't want to lose him, like the other birds. She is possessive about him and will not let him go. Despite Bravo being the strongest, he is also extremely naughty. Now that he has the characteristics of a mature bird like a stronger beak, soft wings and stylish/rather funky spikes, he loves gamboling around the garden, jumping and playing with stems and leaves! He is penetrating into the world of birds. Even his father pays a visit occasionally, to see his progress. Bravo will be one powerful red-vented Bulbul, undoubtedly.
Just like the father bird, I, too go to check his progress occasionally. Few days back, Bravo had sauntered into the alleyway outside, while failing to fly up onto the branches. And then, there was a street cat, which was crawling towards Bravo to attack. The mother was shrieking in high pitch, powerless and confused about the situation. I drifted into the street and frightened the cat away. And then Bravo was returned to safety.
Now, from dusk to dawn, the mother and Bravo sit together in the branches, along with the squirrels, flapping their wings like shimmering delights and chirping delicately in perfect crescendo, while sunlight engulfs them, in perfection just like a painting of a mother and son Bulbul..
