It was Gerald Durrell’s My family and other animals that I re-read a few days back which set me thinking (however, let me make it clear that in spite of the distinctly weird behaviour of some of my family, I would stop short of calling them animals!). It occurred to me that there was an open zoo of sorts in and around my home which I had previously not given much thought to.
I have the good fortune to live in a house with a large compound which has been, over the years, planted with a variety of fruit trees and flowering shrubs. Every morning I am woken by frantic cheeping that I had initially thought were made by birds. Later I realised that squirrels were the culprits. These little creatures are highly emotional and vociferous, and spend a great part of the day chasing each other up and down tree trunks. They also delight in raising the volume of their exchanges when one is just drifting off into a post-lunch siesta.
Birds are common visitors. An irrigation canal runs along one side of our property and kingfishers often sit patiently on the wall, waiting for an unwary fish to poke its head above the sluggishly moving water. Then there’s a sudden dart of brilliant blue, followed by a triumphant rise with a glint of silver in the bird’s beak! It beats video games any day.
Did you know that a group of crows is called a murder? Extremely intelligent and irritating (especially due to their pooping habits), I wouldn’t mind murdering a few crows myself! Our own murder hangs around whenever it’s the dog’s meal time and steals as much as possible from the dumb pooch. They keep away otherwise, thank God! A woodpecker and his wife find our aged coconut palms very attractive and it’s a treat to watch them moving spirally up and around the trunks, pecking at the bark and feasting on insects. They always come together, a happily married pair. The flowering shrubs are the hunting ground of the munia birds, which come in flocks, chattering incessantly while they hop about. Family squabbles are common, with the birds hurling angry insults while almost dancing in rage until they are distracted and fly off together.
A wagtail is seen at times at the base of the jackfruit tree. It is called an ‘earth shaker’ as well other less complimentary names in the vernacular due to the comical wagging of its posterior. Somehow, the bird has got it into its head that the low coffee-table in the veranda is its designated toilet. Repeated shooing had no effect and so the table has been relocated to the indoors. Occasionally, we are honoured by a pair of crow pheasants picking their way about, their red eyes gleaming with interest. Even more rarely, a bird of paradise pays us a visit, its long white tail vanishing and reappearing as it flits through the drumstick trees. Bright green parrots invariably arrive when our cowpea crop matures — the way they expertly shell the pods by making small windows above each bean is fascinating, though very annoying. They blend effortlessly into the greenery and it takes a keen eye to glimpse them. Sparrows and mynahs are also seen off and on but are getting rarer nowadays. During the rainy season, egrets and migratory birds with long curved necks inhabit the trees by the canal, fishing by day and roosting in the branches by night.
A family of mongooses also have their abode here, travelling in strict lines like children in kindergarten, the father in the lead. In spite of their beautiful sleek glistening coats, I can’t say I appreciate their uprooting all my potted plants in the search for earthworms! They move away when they see us, always stopping at a distance to turn their heads around and look back to see what we’re up to. By the way, it’s a myth that mongooses keep snakes away. We still have our share of resident rat snakes and an occasional cobra. They are always more scared of us than we are of them and slither away as fast as they can.
In addition to this menagerie, we have our domestic members — a calf, two goat kids, a dog, and two goldfish in a bowl. The calf is a peaceable animal, but she does like to get loose of her bonds at night and roam about. One morning, I opened the kitchen door to find her standing just outside, gazing limpidly at me. She almost gave me a heart attack! The kids are a different cup of tea. They are always up to mischief, pulling clothes off the line and nibbling the tips of all our carefully nurtured plants. Our lovable dog, Labrador-German Shepherd cross, pretends to be dumb until some other dog, cat or mongoose is sighted. Then all hell breaks loose. Human beings can come and go without provoking any reaction. We thought our hens were also dumb until a terrific squawking arose from the coop the other day. Rushing to the rescue, we found a mongoose circling the coop, assessing his chances of having chicken for dinner. Needless to say, his hopes were in vain. The goldfish, swimming round and round their limited world, fortunately have no shocking mannerisms. However, in spite of certain idiosyncrasies, all humans, animals and birds get on tolerably well together, mostly ignoring each other in mutual understanding.
But it doesn’t end there. Yesterday I was almost startled out of my skin by an unearthly sound which was part meow, part wail and part screech. I galloped outside to see the newest family member strutting about in the courtyard — a bedraggled peahen.
The more the merrier. Live and let live.
m_vmenon@yahoo.com
