HOUSE OF SPARROW

June 2022

I remember dashing to the switchboard to turn off the ceiling fan to prevent casualty.

We grew up on house sparrows. They were everywhere, cheeping and chirruping. Kaku would feed them grain.

Then, over the years, they disappeared. There are possibly more dogs in India now.

The past few days in my corner of the Western Ghats have been delightfully different. I see several sparrows every day.

One particular female perched close to me this morning, resting and preening.

Just like in the olden days.

Ours has been for several months the house of sparrows, as well as the silverbill and the black-throated munia. All we have done is provided undisturbed corners and perches, and grain and water.

In the Western Ghats, the munias have dominated. I have watched them for hours.

The male keeps it courtship dance simple - bobbing in one spot. The lady of interest has typically shown compassionate indifference, watching the uncomplicated vertical choreography almost out of polite courtesy.

I realise that if I were to be born a bird, I'd be the black-throated munia - given the limits of my dancing abilities.

PS: I can also swing side to side.

~*~