Sunshine on the wall

Catopsilia pomona, the common emigrant or lemon emigrant - resting on my wall

Come, rest for a while,
scraps of sunshine
flitting across my view.

At the traffic light, I watch

your crazy parabolas

two by two.

Have the rains signalled
your departure?
Are you leaving for the hills?
Emigrant  that you are
Thanks for stopping by.

The treepie

The treepie called me to my window.
Softly,
Like water dripping in a pool
Bob-o-link, bob-o-link.

The teak tree leaves and the wind did their best to hide it from me.
I caught but a glimpse.


Why do I smile so?



Rufous tree pie (Dendrocitta vagabunda) on the teak tree (Tectona grandis) in my neighbour's garden.

Urban musings

The days rush and blur.

Pause.
My garden blooms fade even before I get to know them.

Paved with gold

Does that chameleon feel like a king?
Do its eyes behold the beauty?

The Wounded Otter

The Wounded Otter | Books | The Guardian

A wounded otter

on a bare rock 

a bolt in her side, 

stroking her whiskers 

stroking her webbed feet. 

Her ancestors 

told her once 

that there was a river, 

a crystal river, 

a waterless bed. 

They also said 

there were trout there 

fat as tree-trunks 

and kingfishers 

bright as blue spears - 

men there without cinders 

in their boots, 

men without dogs 

on leashes. 

She did not notice 

the world die 

nor the sun expire. 

She was already 

swimming at ease 

in the magic crystal river.

Basho and me

Wanderer, nature poet and philosopher. Matsuo Chūemon Munefusa aka Basho, Haiku Master.

I was reading his Haikus yesterday, and these ones particularly stuck in my head as so apt for the wanderers in our family.

Wake! The sky is light!

let us to the road

again . . .

Companion butterfly!

Copsia-petal

fell in silent dawn . . .

spilling

A water-jewel.

(The original Basho was with Camellia) 

Ah me! I am one

who spends his little

breakfast

Morning-glory gazing.

Long conversations 

beside blooming amarylses – 

joys of life on the road.

(The original Basho was with irises) 

In the twilight rain

these brilliant-hued

hibiscus . . .

A lovely sunset

Lady butterfly

perfumes her wings

by floating

Over the orchid.

Silent the old town . . .

the scent of flowers

floating . . .

And evening bell.

I'm a wanderer 

so let that be my name – 

the first winter rain 

A January 1st filled with bird song and children's laughter

During our Rishi Valley term visit

At the guest house.

In the senior school, a pair of Collared Scops Owl have taken residence.  One of them looked down at me with amusement (I thought) as I tried not to look nervous at the thought of meeting my son's teachers!!

The sugarcane was flowering, and the bulbuls were delighted.

The Baya weavers were gearing up for the nesting season

The cloud cover kept us warm

The parakeets were not discrete
The munias were such a treat.

The oriole lurked among the branches
As did the coucal, making no advances.

Why does birdsong always fill my heart?
Or was it the the sight of our son, so long apart?

Delight

 

White flowers on the ground.

I look up in surprise.

My heart fills.

Jill and Johnny

 

I would like to tell you a story if you are free
About what happened in Delhi at Terminal Three
I saw this carpet cleaner
Who could not be any keener
To go on a cleaning spree.

Every crumb did he get
Not one scrap did he forget.
Brought his missus to work
And I think thats a perk,
Made sure high standards were met.

They waddled around on feet red and scrawny
Their bodies blue-grey, and no, not tawny.
You had to admire their necks
But not their poo or their pecks
The pigeon duo that I called Jill and Johnny.

Du Fu and the Golden Oriole

I am in a Chinese state of mind these days, as we plan to go off for a week to Beijing and Xi'an.

And Mr Ramanan sent me this absolutely spectacular picture of the Godlen Oriole he spied at Vedanthangal.  As I admired those eyes that looked like they were kohl-lined, I was immediately struck by the thought that someone must have been inpired to rhyme by this lovely bird.

Golden oriole - Photo by Mr Ramanan

And there it was.  Du Fu, the Chinese poet from the Tang dynasty period composed this four-line poem.

A pair of golden orioles sings in green willows
a column of snowy egrets flies off in blue sky
my window contains peaks with a thousand years of ice
my gate harbors boats from ten thousand miles downriver

( Red Pine. Poems of the Masters, p. 100. Copper Canyon Press 2003.)

Another translation:

Two golden orioles sing in the green willows,
A row of white egrets against the blue sky.
The window frames the western hills' snow of a thousand autumns,
At the door is moored, from eastern Wu, a boat of ten thousand li.

http://www.chinese-poems.com/d29.html

I like the second translation better.

The capital of the Tang dynasty in the first century AD was Xi'an.  But Du Fu himself seems to have moved to Chendu, where he is reported to have composed this quartrain sometime around 759 AD. 

The Golden Oriole seen in China some 1,200 years ago, and photographed so beautifully in Madras by Mr Ramanan.  The poem survives and so does the bird!

Gives me goosebumps.

The Beach Birders at the Fifth Chennai Bird Race

This was the way it was.  No colour filter!  Photo by Rags.  See the entire set of pictures here.

Our Beach Birders team from the coast

decided to bird for half a day, at the most.

With binos and books we took to the Bird Race.

It was the refreshments that set the leisurely pace!

A gorgeous sunrise, such as I had never seen before

but wait, Pallikaranai had much more  in store!

Swamp hens, egrets and stilts galore

the cormorants and ducks creating a furore.

A lone Ruff, Pelicans landing one by one

Stints in aerial ballet, it seemed, just for fun.

Bobbing sandpipers, the prinias chirping

meditative herons and jacanas preening.

Unmindful of the garbage and stench were they

"A poor sense of smell", the experts say.

A news crew arrived in the meantime from afar

and before we knew it, Rags was a TV star!

Watched the spot bills and pintails and teals flypast.

We decided to move on after a coffee-and-sandwich repast.

To Sholinganallur wetlands, past the toll,  we drove

and Fulvous Whistling Ducks we saw, by jove!

Kelambakkam backwaters by midday we did drop by.

Blue waters, a breeze, the sun high in the sky.

It was time for the biggies the thermals to ride

Painted storks and Pelicans, side by side.

A few Terns winged without intent

their low numbers, to me, a disappointment.

But a family of curlews did give us a sneak peek

as they fished in the mud with their overlong beaks.

Happy and hot and tired were we

as we headed home, Sheila, Rags, Ammu and me!

Our bird of the day was the Grey-headed Lapwing
but for the Emerald Doves, an Orphean Warbler did sing!

Bridled Terns logged 121, our tally 59
but with the fun and company, that suited me fine!
************************
The fifth Chennai Bird Race held on Sunday Jan 22nd.

The TOI new report has a few errors.  The winning team of Vikas was Bridled Tern.  And he spotted an eagle not an owl!

The IE report - Students create a buzz at CBR.

The Hindu report - Feathered friends

The Jacana Junkies were at the third edition in 2010.

A black drongo stops by

A drongo came visiting, and it was black
Not ashy, I knew for red iris it lacked.

It wheezed, whistled and swooped

as, for flying insects it looked.

Swift forays from the teak branch

I tell you, he had plenty to munch.

Maybe he will visit again, for lunch

a beakful of insects do make a good crunch.

A background of white teak flowers
followed by October showers
and then the power fails for hours
making us into pretender troubadours!

Valley of Flowers - the trip that never was

We bought our trekking shoes
and paid our travelling dues.

We were off to the mountains, we three
From our town in the south by the sea.
But it seems it was not to be
Oh, so woe is me!

No monal pheasant, no whiskered yuhina
No Himalayan Poppy, no Potentilla
Himalayan Griffon I shall not see
Nor the snowy peaks of Badri.

Valley of Flowers, I missed for sure, but dear Raji and Gapi, most of all,
with you two it would have been such a blast, we would have had such a ball!

Nash and me

You Can’t Get There from Here

by Ogden Nash

Bird watchers top my honors list.
I aimed to be one, but I missed.
Since I’m both myopic and astigmatic,
My aim turned out to be erratic,
And I, bespectacled and binocular,
Exposed myself to comment jocular.

We don’t need too much birdlore, do we,
To tell a flamingo from a towhee;
Yet I cannot, and never will,
Unless the silly birds stand still.
And there’s no enlightenment in a tour
Of ornithological literature.
Is yon strange creature a common chickadee,
Or a migrant alouette from Picardy?

You can rush to consult your Nature guide
And inspect the gallery inside,
But a bird in the open never looks
Like its picture in the birdie books-
Or if it once did, it has changed its plumage,
And plunges you back into ignorant gloomage.
That is why I sit here growing old by inches,
Watching a clock instead of finches,
But I sometimes visualize in my gin
The Audubon that I audubin.

Exerpted from “Up From the Egg: Confessions of a Nuthatch Avoider”

Thank you Sheila, for sending me this!

My apologies, for an adaptation I could not resist:

Bird watchers top my honors list.
I aim to be one, but this tail has a twist.
Since I’m both myopic and astigmatic,
My sightings turn out to be erratic,
And I, bespectacled and binocular,
Expose myself to comment jocular.

We don’t need too much bird IQ, I was told,
To tell a prinia from a pipit, so bold;
Yet I cannot, and never will,
Unless the silly birds sit still.
And there’s no enlightenment in a tour
Of ornithological literature.
Is yon strange creature a common ibis, black-headed
Or an uncommon black migrant in the marsh embedded?

You can rush to consult your Inskipp & Grimmett guide
And inspect the photo gallery inside,
But a bird in the open never looks
Like its picture in the birdie books-
Or if it once did, it has changed its plumage,
And plunges you back into ignorant gloomage.
That is why I sit here writing ghastly verse,
Instead, I should be out looking, for better or worse,
But I sometimes visualize in my dream
The birdwatcher that I became, supreme!

Purple sunbirds

Purple sunbirds, at Sheila's window sill

Lifted my spirits, filled me with thrill

As they chirped and flitted and discussed

the fine art of nest building, oh how they fussed.

One day, maybe I will be lucky and see their nest

That they have made with such care, choosing the very best.

February Rambles

Millingtonia bare

February-March

Birds perch

I stare.

Grand teak in seed

February-March

Leaves all mulch

earthworm feed.

Green replacing orange-gold

February-March

Tiered branch

Almonds in its fold.

The Parambikulam poem

Frogmouths and hornbills I hoped to see
but the forest teaches you
that what will be, will be.

Parambikulam was our destination,
in our MNS Pongal peregrination.
Up in the Western Ghats is the sanctuary,
a hot spot of floral and faunal diversity.
A 450 year old teak called kanimara
A Southern Birdwing, I marveled at. The shola
Do we realize we have this treasure,
Its worth to us, beyond measure?

Lost New Yorkers and Naturalists seasoned,

a doc on sabbatical and a writer of fiction,

researcher retired, the children enlivened,

our MNS "herd', a local attraction!

Roshan amused us with snake lores galore

Rohan wanted idlis and puris, some more

Uttara yelled in the cold shower with "delight"

and Vish thought she was in a big fight!

Then, Selvam guided us to the frogmouth pair,
An endemic to the ghats, in their lair.
What an endearing sight they made
Leaf-like, in order to detection, evade.

That large, strange gape helps them hunt at night,

Below the forest canopy in quiet flight.
This Youtube video shows you the frogmouth, Sri Lanka
As also this post in my favourite blog from Gallicissa.

While Pranav continued his quest for crawlies,

Vijay thought we would have leech difficulties,

But instead, Mini had ticks more than forty!

Which her dad picked out, before they turned warty.

He also removed the dead rat from our loo

While Dhruva was revealing sides to us we never knew!

Meanwhile, Raji & Raji discussed music and dance

with Kamini, in this most unlikely ambience.

Outside the dorm was the Malabar Whistling Thrush
Its plaintive call heard from the brush.
An Asian Fairy Bluebird, and woodpeckers a plenty
Nut Hatch, treepie, barbets and hill mynahs, more than twenty!
And boars sporting mohawks, their snouts a-twitching
And Nilgiri langurs, their black coats, so fetching!

The gaurs and hornbills decided to keep away

though we looked hard, day after day.

Sheila was fascinated with all the scat

Porcupine, bear, boar and cat!

Mr Sivakumar's record shot did not help resolve the debate

was that Wagtail grey or yellow, my mate?

Shantaram and me made bird lists, meticulous

In this way, it was not left ambiguous.

Eighty two bird species in all we sighted

And tree names also were noted.

Memories of those vistas, I will carry with me

friends, family and happy camaraderie

forest, flower, bird, animal and tree

how I wish we could all let them be.

Let me learn to consume wisely

be responsible and not exploit blithely.

Clean air and freshwater free

For our children and grandchildren and all eternity.

Ten bird species I had never seen before -

• Pompadour green pigeon - what a lovely, musical call!
• Sri Lanka Frogmouth - I was so looking forward to this, and when I think about them now, it still amazes me. If the guide had not actually told me where to look, I just would not have seen them!
• Brown capped pygymy woodpecker - there were actually a couple in the trees just outside the dorm, so one morning I had my heart's fill of viewing them zipping from tree to tree.
• Great black/white-bellied woodpecker - what an amazing, spectacular looking bird!
• Heart-spotted woodpecker - brought a smile to all of us I remember, as he/she pecked furiously and went round and round the trunk, hanging upside down at some point, but still pecking away.
• Small minivets - brilliant flashes of colour
• White-bellied treepie - The white nape and belly, striking when it flew past
• Velvet-fronted Nuthatch - out in the forest, it kept disappearing around the tree trunk, but I had a good look in the trees outside the dorm as well. When my son first heard the name, he heard it as "natraj", and was amazed that the bird had such an Indian name!!
• Asian Fairy Bluebird - It posed for us, like some fashion model on the Vogue cover! With the sun falling on it, it was a brilliant view!
• Chestnut Tailed Starling - there was a tree full of them one evening.

Memorable butterflies

• Southern birdwing
• Jezebel
• Gladeye bushbrown

The Navaratri fortnight

Cloudy skies

dragonflies.

Sweaty, hot,

mosquitoes swat.

Lightning, thunder

leaves asunder

Cooling rains

dragonflies again!

Window sill

bulbuls trill.

Sunny day

trevally prey.

Heat abated

pitta spotted.

Swallows tease

southerly breeze.

Brilliant moon

Dusk so soon.

Nizhal's tree walk at Sembium Gardens

(Due apologies to a kids nursery rhyme)

Bus driver bus driver, can we have a ride?
OK, OK step up inside.
Round the bend, up the street, madly we go
Screeching and horning
Hold on tight!

Conductor sir, may we alight
We seem to have reached and we are alright!
Into an auto, squeezed up tight
We reach Sembium gardens, much to our delight!

Shoba is there, as usual giggling
And Arun is there to take us treewalking.

Buttress roots
New palm shoots
Subabuls are plenty
Rain tree flowers so dainty.

But where are those birds that I came to see?
Have they all gone off to have their morning tea?
Mosquitoes attack bare legs with glee
Sending my son on a hopping spree.

Coffee and biscuits, a welcome break
The caffeine ensuring we were all awake
To see Saraca indica
Which is the real ashoka
And not Polyalthia longifolia,
Our common false ashoka!

At last I see herons in the pond!
And is that a coot and moorhen beyond?
Parakeets in the raintree screeched
A flameback in the cordia, knocked

And to go home we turned around
Oops, the same mad bus driver we found!
Round the bend, up the street, madly we went
Screeching and horning
Held on tight!

An industrious spider works overnight

Overnight, over the parapet wall of my balcony, a spider was at work.
From building this large web, it obviously did not shirk.

The morning sun glinted off the web, so magical
Its silken threads making me wax so lyrical.
I wondered about the spinneret glands under its belly
That helped make this work of art, that should be on telly.

Different glands, different types of silk made,

From one, a safety line is trailed,

another, sticky silk to trap its prey

a third, stronger silk, for wrapping it may.

So much energy does the spider expend

all to feed itself, in the end.

All the work and it lasted not a day

The rain came that evening and washed it all away.

Whatever became of it, I sit and wonder

As I listen to the intermittent thunder.

Another day, another web

So does life flow and ebb.