Have you ever been bird-watched? I mean, watched by a bird?

It happened to me while I was engrossed in de-weeding around my cardamom and coffee plants, something that I do almost every day at the farm. A mechanical activity that sends the muscles into auto mode while allowing the brain to dream its favorite dream – unearthing a hidden pot of gold in the soil.

Perhaps it was my sixth sense that made me look up to my right. There, sitting on a broken branch on the ground about 15 feet away, was a bluish-black bird, the size of a dove, its eyes piercing me with an unwavering gaze.  I looked back at it and we maintained eye contact for a while until I looked away, unnerved.

I tried acting like I was not interested and went back to digging and pulling weeds.  Something was not right though. The bird just sat there, doing nothing. Maybe it can’t fly because it’s hurt and needs help, I thought.  Soon I discovered that the bird moved whenever I shifted onto a fresh patch. From the corner of my eye, I could see my partner silently pecking at the ground that I had cleared. It occurred to me that digging out weeds uncovered worms and insects that my feathered friend was interested in.

It stayed with me that entire morning, making my day. For me, it was almost as exciting as my favourite dream!

Then I made another exciting discovery. It was the same bird that woke us up at exactly six every morning with a very human, soulful whistle.  The first time I heard that whistle, I froze. Who could be outside my bedroom window at the break of dawn, daring to whistle so loudly, I thought as I scrambled out of bed ready to confront the intruder!

Thanks to Google, I was able to identify this bird as the Malabar Whistling Thrush, also known as The Whistling Schoolboy. Found near rocky streams in the western ghats, the Malabar thrush is quite bold and inquisitive. In fact sometimes when I imitate its pitch and tease it with different tunes, it cocks its head and looks at me quizzically as if to say, nice try buddy!

The Malabar whistling thrush has a black upper body with a patch of blue on its head. The shiny metallic blue feathers that cover its body seem to magically change its shade in different settings.

One morning Latha was cleaning the front yard when she noticed something round and blue near our portico. On closer inspection she was shocked to discover it was a young thrush, barely alive, lying curled on the ground, its head tucked into its body making it look like a furry blue ball.

With utmost gentleness and care, Latha miraculously nursed the baby to health. Within a few days, the young bird recovered sufficiently to sit up and eat by itself. We were thrilled! A week later we heard some animated tweeting and squeaking from our little baby. Outside we could hear its parents in conversation.

The happy sad moment had come sooner than expected. As is her wont, with a prayer of thanksgiving, Latha let the beautiful blue thrush fly off into the coffee bushes, towards the calling of familiar voices.

Philip Peter