Crow Clips

Bird-watching (the feathered variety) is an absorbing, relaxing and educational hobby for many. There are a number of bird trails and bird lakes in and around Mumbai, and I am sure, in the vicinity of other cities as well.  For example, the bird trails within and in the neighbourhood of Sanjay Gandhi National Park, Borivali the Tulsi and Vihar bird lakes; the Basein fort environs, the Mahim mangroves, the Manori-Gorai creek stretch, the Mulund – Airoli locale bordering the backwaters and mangroves, the trails at Belapur, Kharga and Nerul, the Koperkhairane and   Gadeshwar dams at Panvel, and further out, the Karnala Bird Sanctuary and the Uran area. 

However, as I’ve discovered, you don’t really need to venture afar to experience the enjoyment of  bird-watching.  There’s a lot you can observe about the avian world from the comfort of your own home….

Yes, I would never have thought I’d feel such benevolent goodwill towards the Indian house crow. Admittedly, not for the whole racous, aggressive, inquisitive, cunning, cheeky, beady eyed lot - just the few who have become, so to speak, feathered friends.

There’s the pair of bedraggled, fledgling crows who came “a-begging”, at the kitchen window one monsoon morning.  Having nothing more convenient at hand, they got a handful of namkeen kurmura (puffed rice) – which to the hungry pair must have been like manna from heaven;    they threw themselves on it, and got hooked onto that particular morning meal ever since (I buy a pack of kurmura regularly – not the plain kind, mind you - they prefer namkeen!  For a species that feeds on all things rotten by the roadside, these are remarkably pernickety about their dished out diet).  From then on, breakfast time finds them waiting on the window sill, patiently – but should the just-about-to-boil milk distract attention from them, acrobatics on the window screen punctuated with “don’t forget-about us” cawing ensures prompt service. 

I still don’t trust them not to peck at my fingers when I’m dishing out their meal, though, to their credit,  they’ve never yet   attempted  to snatch  at the plastic spoonful of “cereal” (remember, when you dine with the devil, use a long spoon) but always wait quietly for the hand out and then savour each mouthful -  quite like gentry.  The occasional intruder who dares to swoop in to gatecrash on the meal is however quickly put to flight with a sudden burst of characteristic aggression,that asserts territorial rights over the window sill and everything on it. 

The two are grownup now and have gone their separate ways, but tastes acquired in youth die hard so they still appear every morning, though at different times, for their daily pick-me-up kurmura dose.   Sometimes one will bring along a fledgling, and shove a beakful of masticated kurmura down its throat - have always wondered, when watching crows feed their young, how those sharp beaks don’t  puncture the young ones’ tender throats.

Then there’s the cheeky one who indulges in a wilful game of catch-me-if-you-can.  Perched  on the door, it will  keep up  a deafening cacophony of  strident, incessant cawing  until you get up, and threaten to  whack it with whatever is at hand -  but it will  wait until you are almost there, and  then, and only then,  fly from door to  window for a repeat performance.   Making a veritable game of it, never tiring - until you put on a show of complete disinterest (your -noise-doesn’t-bother-me-at all-I couldn’t-care-less-if-you-bring-the-house-down-with-it).

Another thing that never ceases to amaze is the haphazard way in which crows

literally throw together a nest   - of twigs, string, bits of cloth and random items, that stay attached to each other  and the branch, on the wings of a prayer! Nesting is usually during the monsoons, and it’s no wonder then that the crow is such a resilient  bird – the young ones have to survive in their  perilously placed flimsy  nests, buffeted by gusty winds and soaked by heavy downpours  

And how can I forget the sentry, who at the fall of dusk, patrols the terrace parapet, head tilted, peering every few seconds into  the street below – very much on  self- appointed duty.  And the ”cable guy”  who daily alights  onto   the corner of the terrace, caws a couple of times into the terrace drain and gazes intently and expectantly into  it –if there’s anybody down there, answer if you please!

Crows are remarkably intelligent and practical.  I catch sight of them ingenuously dipping pieces of bone-dry food in the water collected in plant containers, to soften and make them easy to eat.  While on the terrace, should we even glance in the direction of the nest on the overhanging tree, the roosting crows will quickly hop away from it to farthest branch - an attempt to distract prying eyes away from their nest. And, sometimes,  at Mahalaxmi station junction, you can  spot  a crowd of them  descend on the rooftops of  the buses that halt at the signal, to  hitch a free ride for a couple of minutes down  the road, saving  on wing power. 

These are just some of the many amusing, annoying, quick-witted and quirky traits displayed by the Indian house crow, as watched from a window.

Our “backyard birds” face the increasing challenge of finding sufficient food and nesting sites because their habitat is shrinking day-by-day due to human deforestation.  For example, the once common house sparrow has today become a rarity because it no longer can make its nest under the traditional cottage eaves. You can do your bit to make the life of the avian species a little easier by putting out water for them in the summer and of course, food –bits of chappati, water melon rinds, papaya skin, chikoo peel, over ripe banana, apple cores… these can be used to lend a helping hand in the daily struggle for survival instead of being consigned to the garbage can.

- Charmaine Sequeira