Garden of joy

Garden of joy

“What a healthy guava sapling you got there!” exclaimed a friend. Indeed it was! I agreed rather in wonderment how such a healthy sapling could have come about just like that. Just then the crow put in his appearance and reminded me that it may have been his endeavour.

I watch him return the pebble he borrowed from my garden; he does that often, carries one away only to bring it back later, a well mannered fellow! Two shrubs stand in the garden, very close to the window of our living-room adding to the green, a shade different from that of the grass and bottle-brush. I’m happy for the small patch, which seems to give me a whole lot of flowers, that I have bees circling them, and butterflies that fritter in and out. Also like it was adding to the merriment, there is a pair of squirrels that romp the branches and swing from the weakest tendrils of the Alamanda.

I often wonder how blessed souls of vast gardens enjoy the gifts of nature. Difficult not to admire the resilience of these creatures despite the annoyance by people who blare the horn and babble with anger; they could definitely give the magpies a migraine. Just too many humans causing jarring sounds! Yet nature adapts itself silently living on to thrill us with its bounty.

I was immensely surprised while watching my blossoms as I spied on a beautiful pair of birds. I began awaiting for their arrival each morning and they never did disappoint me with regular visitations. I noticed they were nestling in the bush near the living-room and I was so thrilled. With sparse knowledge on ornithology, I surfed the internet looking for pictures to match the birds, but found none.

I spotted where the nest was and three eggs speckled and pinkish inside it. A couple of weeks or so later I could see tiny, fragile — but ugly, I must admit — fledglings; in shivering anticipation of food from their parents. I watch without upsetting them from a distance with a pair of binoculars much to the amusement of my neighbours. I was so beside myself trying to figure out the breed. Then one day nonchalantly Mansoor told me they were Indian Bulbul, the red vented variety, when I animatedly pointed them out to him.

I quickly checked with my computer and it was the Bulbul! I shook my head in amazement and at my lack of knowledge on birds. But lucky are the ones who have the benefit of vast spans of pastoral wonderment and the surprises from it! Even so I’m lucky with my small patch of green.

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