Till the middle of the month, the mornings in Delhi had remained
unusually cool for the month of April. It had been heavenly to have early
morning tea outside in the back courtyard of our house. We are blessed in
having a few trees around our house. In between the silk cotton tree (semul)
and drum stick tree, you can easily spot at least 15 species of birds on your
lucky day. Thus, we have usual birds like sparrow, myna, brahminy myna, dove,
blue rock pigeon, wood pigeons, rosy pastors, wabblers, sun bird, robins,
bulbul, crow, kite, parakeet, sun bird, etc. 
The wood pigeons had come and gone away, stopping only for a few days
for face presentation; the flock of noisy rosy pastors was in the process of
leaving; white-cheek bulbul, kingfishers,
and grey hornbills were also making occasional appearance; every morning tree
pie is trying to imitate other birds; barbets, large and small, were heard more
often than seen with their continuous, monotonous ‘thuk…thuk…’. We do not have
roosters around us, but koel has assumed its function with its shrill call
rising in crescendo and then suddenly going quiet. Unfailingly, it gives its
call at 4 am, and sometimes at 3! Where was it all throughout the winter? Soon
we shall witness crow chasing away a female koel from its nest, but many a koel
would succeed in throwing away eggs in the crow nest and laying their own.
Gone winters, the trees have become mad house of activities with birds
of all color and hues, shapes and sizes. The mornings occupy them with their
frantic search for food and building material. All through the winter, they had
gone on sabbatical, and now they have made their appearance to reclaim their
rightful place among trees and bushes. The insects, which had remained
conspicuous with their absence, have suddenly become visible almost in
sacrificial mood, allowing us to witness hide and seek with birds, who dart
down from some invisible spot in the tree to hunt them and insects or moths
scurrying in the grass or fallen leaves for their lives.
The mornings are no more
pleasant any longer, mosquitoes are perhaps envious of seeing us enjoying our
morning tea, and won’t let a single second pass without their sting hitting us
at some unreachable spot of the body, but the call of the birds is still
fascinating making us endure all the oppression of heat and mosquito bite.
Gone winters, the trees have become mad house of activities with birds
of all color and hues, shapes and sizes. The mornings occupy them with their
frantic search for food and building material. All through the winter, they had
gone on sabbatical, and now they have made their appearance to reclaim their
rightful place among trees and bushes. The insects, which had remained
conspicuous with their absence, have suddenly become visible almost in
sacrificial mood, allowing us to witness hide and seek with birds, who dart
down from some invisible spot in the tree to hunt them and insects or moths
scurrying in the grass or fallen leaves for their lives.
The mornings are no more
pleasant any longer, mosquitoes are perhaps envious of seeing us enjoying our
morning tea, and won’t let a single second pass without their sting hitting us
at some unreachable spot of the body, but the call of the birds is still
fascinating making us endure all the oppression of heat and mosquito bite.
