When I heard from aunt Gowri that the much expected summer showers had arrived in Bandipur, I decided to pay her a visit . After all, I have four cousins there now. Born a few months ago, I'm happy to report they are doing fine and learning the ropes of forest life very fast. Gowri is very superstitious and does not want me to talk about them.
” Nazar …Sheroo I want my cubs to grow up safe and sound and no evil eye should befall them,” she whispered as I watched the young ones chase each other in the waters of a muddy stream. So my lips are sealed on that one.
The very evening that I landed, the heavens opened up and what a downpour it was! We huddled under a huge rocky crevice as the grey skyline was broken up by flashes of lightning and huge claps of thunder. “We don't have to fear forest fires this time,” said Gowri .
By dawn, the rain had stopped and Gowri suggested that we take a walk. Breakfast would be difficult, we knew as most of our potential food would be curled up and hiding someplace. The only guys who seemed to be in a great mood were our feathered friends. As we set out we came upon a very young Changeable Hawk eagle perched high on a tree branch looking out for a morning meal.. A handsome lad he was, all white headed with the brown and white plumage covering the rest of him. Usually Changeable Hawks are browner with a few white feathers on their throats and chest. They are called ‘changeable' because they tend to change from dark to pale browns.
A loud flapping of wings just behind and I turned around. There was a peacock who managed to perch himself on a rather tall young tree. “Didn't know peacocks could fly that high,” I remarked. The fellow was up an impressive height.
“Peacocks are in their elements in this weather you'll soon see...” laughed Gowri. She was right. A little up ahead, we came upon two handsome peacocks who were in some kind of competition. Both had spread out their brilliant blue plumages and were dancing vigorously shaking their brown tail feathers. The peahens who were foraging nearby didn't appear particularly impressed though. So much so that dancing men began squawking loudly but to no avail. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for them.
“Well done, fellows,” I hollered to the surprised peacocks, “maybe you can audition for a musical!”
“Did you say musical Sheroo?” laughed Gowri. “I mean of the Indian variety. You only have to lip sync!” I grinned.
We walked on “Brain feeever…Brain feeever …Brain feeever” a high pitch screech broke my reverie. “Whatever is that? “ I asked in surprise. “That's the Brain Fever bird. Those guys never tire of shouting,” said Gowri. “You are likely to hear them all day but seldom do you see them. Don't worry you'll get used to it soon enough.”
A strange cacophony arose as we passed a stream. “Frogs! They are in full form today,” laughed Gowri. Two pretty little blue- green bee eaters twittered on a branch. “Good morning,” they chorused cheerily. I waved back.
A couple of Jungle fowls with their bright red head feathers ran across. A little Hoopoe with a handsome crown was taking a mud bath on the path ahead. As we made our way back to her home Gowri pointed to a tree: “There's your tormentor, Sheroo look up!” It was a brown and white bird. “Is it some kind of a hawk? “I asked.
“Well, a Hawk cuckoo. Your Brain fever bird!” laughed Gowri. But this guy was sullen and silent. By now my brain was scrambled already as my tummy rumbled. Later, over a meal of Jungle Fowl tikkas and some chital chops I went over my bird trip in my head. From somewhere nearby rose a cry: “Brain feever…brain fever…brain fever.” Not again!
Mail me at sherook@wildmail.com
A Children for Nature and Animals (CANU) Initiative
