:: Shekhar Bhatia

Of birds and bees

Shekhar Bhatia

June.12 : It was a small bird, about the size of a Bulbul, with a crest and a flowing tail. What struck me was the tail — a two-feet-long white plume dangling delicately from its body. I could be wrong about the exact length but I was far too excited when I spotted the bird from my window that overlooks the small patch of green in our backyard.

As it flew from one branch to another, its feathered tail swirled like a gymnast’s ribbon. It was like watching a ballet in slow motion. By the time I took out my camera it was behind the leaves of a litchi tree and I could get only the long tail. I phoned my birdwatcher friend Bikram Grewal who has written many books and who wanders off to remote forests to spot rare birds, and before I could explain its shape in detail, he said, "A bit early for it to come, I would say". It was an Asian Paradise Flycatcher, a migratory bird found in southern India and in Sri Lanka.

In birding language, it’s "a crested passerine bird (a perching bird like the house sparrow) with long tail streamers". Our visitor was a male; the female is colourful but does not have the long, elegant tail, a feature to attract the opposite sex: females choose males based on the length of the tail. In birds, it is males who dress up. I am told it’s also a noisy bird, but the one that visited our backyard did not sing. Perhaps it just stopped by for a quick drink on its long flight to southern climes.

I like the sound of running water and installed a small fountain — a DIY contraption — in the birdbath. I had no idea that birds, too, love the sound: there’s a veritable pool party all through the day.

The first to arrive at crack of dawn is the restless Sunbird (I like the glistening iridescent purple of the male). The female is greenish and not so attractive. It hovers around the mandarin orange tree, and keeps fluttering as it pierces the fruit and sucks out the bittersweet juice with its curved beak. I can now recognise its short cheewit-cheewit whistle. I am told the male Sunbird changes its colour after the mating season. It will no longer be that fabulous, glistening purple. What a pity.

The black-and-white Oriental Magpie Robins feed on insects and pieces of bread strewn on the grass, flutter in the water, and then sit on a tree and preen. One sprightly little thing was born in a birdhouse in our garden, and seemed completely fearless. I like their shrill but melodious singsong call, and often wonder how they can sing without a pause all through the day. Desperate to attract a mate, I guess. Could even be something to do with protecting territory, says my birder friend. I have seen crows scream when they spot a predator such as a cat.

According to kolkatabirds.com, a website where I found an excellent beginner’s guide to birdwatching, "calls" are brief sounds of only one or two notes; a "song" is a rhythmic series of notes. If you want to hear their calls, try indiabirds.com. It has nice photographs and sounds of many bird species.

I haven’t seen the Brown-headed Barbet for quite some time. Of all the visitors to our backyard this is the biggest: a plump bird, mostly green, that has big eyes and an orange beak. I thought I could see fear in its eyes.

My favourite, of course, is the Common Kingfisher that occasionally comes looking for fish in the pond. It’s a brown bird and has a glorious turquoise plumage that you can see in its full glory when it spreads its wings. It has a long bill. I once saw it steal a fish from my pond in a single swoop, and what an amazing sight it was!

The birds come to bathe or drink water either alone or in groups of same species. The Red-vented Bulbul, however, is not very selective; it perches on the edge of the birdbath, and waits for Magpie Robin to finish. The crows come with pieces of dry bread. They are clever: they dip the piece in water to make it soft. Maybe they do it to feed their newborn.

Birds bathe because water is good for their feathers. The house sparrows come in groups and prefer to roll in the dust. It’s all part of grooming, keeping the feathers strong. Once upon a time there were more sparrows than other birds in the backyard; but at the rate they are vanishing they will become an endangered species. Environmentalists say because their nesting places have shrunk.

Early this summer bees built a honeycomb in the neighbour’s kadi-patta (curry leaf) tree. Come morning and a swarm would descend on our birdbath and hang around the whole day.

And so the birds stopped coming to the fountain. They would hover over it and fly off elsewhere. I would have requested my neighbour to smoke out the bees but I have read many articles that their number is declining. It’s a phenomenon called the colony collapse disorder (CCD, also called honey bee depopulation syndrome): the worker bees dump their queen and disappear abruptly from the hive.

It’s worrying for two reasons: the survival of the species and pollination. According to the US department of agriculture, "bee pollination is responsible for $15 billion in added crop value". There’s a quote attributed to Einstein: "If the bee disappears from the surface of the earth, man would have no more than four years to live". He never said that, but it illustrates the gravity of the situation.

Scientists are not sure what is causing CCD. The cellphone theory is totally bogus; it could be pesticides or a new parasite. They say it could even be some form of stress. Remember, honeybees are social insects. The mystery is that there are no dead bees anywhere.

Anyway, I searched for alternatives on the Internet and created a "diversion": placed another water tray in a corner of the backyard. Within minutes the bees had occupied both. In the end I was forced to dismantle the fountain and move the birdbath to a discreet corner in the shade of a tree. Not the ideal solution because I love the sound of the running water and so did the birds, but it worked. The Sunbirds and the Magpie Robins are back.

But not the Paradise Flycatcher. And just in case it drops by, I have a camera ready this time.

Shekhar Bhatia can be contacted at shekhar.bhatia@gmail.com