These two events may seem to be a figment of
my imagination, and I wouldn't even blame you for thinking so. After all, being
confined to my hostel for three continuous weeks, would you blame me if I
started seeing things that weren’t actually there? But let me assure you, I
witnessed these with my own two eyes. And my fellow hostel-ites can vouch for
at least one of these, if not both.
I
was compelled to chronicle the sights I saw, because it shows the sheer
ingenuity present in the so called “dumb” animals all around us. Sure sometimes
they may do stupid and hilarious things, because that’s just what their
instincts tell them. But sometimes it’s astounding to see the level of smarts
they display to adapt to their ever changing environment. Like Darwin said,
it’s truly ‘survival of the fittest’ out there. Fittest brain, to be exact.
So,
one day, I was washing my clothes in the hostel courtyard. It was a hot
afternoon, despite it being January. Global warming is real folks, don’t you forget
it. Anyway, for the uninitiated, girls wash their clothes and their vessels at
the same tap in the hostel (mercifully not with the same soap!). The tiles
around are never dry. And the plain shahabadi
has been slowly eroded away to leave irregularly shaped puddles around them.
Water, scummy things, soap dregs, foam and a whole lot of nasty things collect
in these puddles. Man, if you ever accidentally step in them, I’d recommend
bathing your feet five times.
Back to the
point. It was a hot day and I washing my clothes. Just then, I noticed a pigeon
flutter down pretty close to me. The pigeons in my hostel are not exactly tame, but they’re not completely feral
anymore. They’re very vexing pests. They make nests in unlikely places, shower
the corridors with a lot of pigeon poop and their chicks have a grating squeal
that could rouse zombies from the ground. The worst part is that nothing
intimidates them. No matter how hard we try to scare them away, they just sit
resolutely and give us the evil eye, in a manner which strongly reminds me of
Nigel the cockatoo from the movie Rio.
This particular
pigeon, on that particular afternoon, was a thirsty bird. He waddled about and
a puddle of cholera attracted his attention. He dipped his beak in it and just
as quick, withdrew it, evident disgust apparent on his face. Then the
still-dripping tap caught his eye. He fluttered to the tap handle and tried
getting upside down to get to the water. All this while, I was crouching on the
ground, motionless, wanting to see what the pigeon would do. A part of me
marveled at his acrobatic ability even as most of me was transfixed by his
efforts. Then he became upright and unmistakably, he gave me the evil eye. A
haughty, villainous look which clearly said ‘Minion. I want water. I expect you
to give me water’. For a moment I just looked at the pigeon. And the pigeon
looked back at me first from one eye and then from the other in that odd way
that only birds can. I got up and walked to the tap. And quicker than blinking
the bugger flew away. Minion, my foot. Nevertheless, since I felt bad for the
bird, I turned the tap ever so slightly so that a light trickle of water
started falling. No sooner did I turn back to my clothes, that the pigeon
returned and started drinking. After that, till my chore was completed, I kept
the tap turned to a slight trickle, which may seem wasteful to some of you, but
a score of sparrows and a few more pigeons deigned to visit and have their full
of water. Normally, I’m a person who takes the extra effort to secure a
dripping tap. But as I sat there that afternoon, I couldn’t help but marvel at
a mere pigeon’s instinct of self preservation. I’ve seen doofus dogs merrily
lap at puddles of water which could be containing just about any lethal thing,
and then they lop away like nothing ever happened. But that pigeon blew my
mind.
The second and
more unbelievable thing that I witnessed leaves this pigeon thing in the dust.
About a week ago, I happened to be in the hostel garden. The trees were filled
with great black crows, cawing in their hoarse voices. Suddenly, one crow flew
down to the tap in the garden and before my shocked eyes, he turned the tap! With his claws! Water started gushing out, and
cool as a cucumber, the crow gladly helped himself and flew away, before I
could pick up my jaw from the ground. But no! Wait! He was followed by two more
of his brethren in rapid succession, one that simply drank and flew away, and
one that drank to his fill and turned the
water off before flying away. For a few seconds I could not find my voice.
Then I proceeded to run in and inform my friends of my discovery. The joke was
on me. I was the last person to come to
know of this! Everyone in my hostel had seen the dexterous ingenious crows
before. I couldn’t believe I that a trio of such astute animals lived in such
close proximity to me and I had never noticed. Man, I should be given dibs to
the next Kit Kat ad!
When
one thinks about it, what have we not taken away from the birds? We’ve taken
away the trees in which they make their homes. We’ve taken away the sprawling
fields where they got their food. We’ve taken away their clean lakes, ponds and
rivers. We’ve taken away their clean, pure air. We bombard them with airwaves
twenty-four-seven. We dump rubbish and chemicals everywhere. We’re choking them
slowly. But their resilience must be saluted. They are thriving, not just
coping, with all the inadequacies.
In short, moral
of the story, the next time you are tempted to call someone a ‘bird-brain’,
re-think that. They’re secretly plotting to take over the world. One human
appliance at a time.
~ Inquisitive I
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