Work in progress

 One of my chief pleasures in the late summer is to sit with my coffee at dawn and watch the birds on the fig trees. We have two wild figs. One is a bedu, a shrubby tree about 12 feet tall with fruits the size of jamuns.  A few metres away from it is a grand old doodhi that soars above the roof of our house and bears tiny fruit the size of pearls. 

I was sitting near the bedu and smiling at the antics of the birds on it when i noticed something curious about the birds..they all had a curiously unfinished look. The grey headed parrot had a light green head and a sorry excuse for a tail. The orange billed Himalayan magpie had forgotten its lipstick and forgotten to pin on its fluttery tail feathers. And the barbet, poor thing, had a moth eaten look about it. I remembered a summer a few years ago when all the parakeets were losing their feathers and scratching themselves, and worried that we were faced with an outbreak of a disease that spread across bird species.

And then a group of 4 magpies came by. 3 made a perfect landing on a branch of the bedu, one made the landing in two attempts. This lack of dexterity was possibly due to a lack of tail feathers or possibly due to a lack of the confidence that bright orange lipstick gives one. It is when the three adults, for such they were, left the drab little one behind and flew on to the doodhi that the truth of the matter occurred to me. The bedu is a creche. The adults dropped off their little ones on the shorter tree and flew onwards. 

No wonder the birds on the bedu all looked unfinished…each of them is still a work in progress.

Moths, the moon, and i

 I know now what it is like to be a moth today. 

For most of the years we have lived here, the only lights i could see from our house were those of the moon and the stars. If i went out into my garden, i could identify the houses to which the few lights belonged.

But now, it has changed. All around our little house, the trees have been felled and houses have sprung up. Cheap solar LED lights mean that i am dazzled every time i look out of our windows. And today i found myself rueing that the hotel wallahs that i can see from my bedroom had installed a large new light on their terrace. It took me a while to realise that it was the moon I was looking at. 

This was an oddly grief filled moment. It felt disloyal, like not recognising a faithful friend. Like not recognising home. And then I was overcome with what it meant to be a moth.

I have always known of course that the lights confuse moths, that they cause their decline. I have lectured enough people about switching off their external lights at night. 

 

But today i got a small taste of what it feels like. And it is not a nice feeling.