Joys of Backyard Birding

 

This month we have been birding in our backyard.... well almost, since the birding site is right behind our lane. And an unusual one at that - it is actually an open plot of vacant land that mostly lies undisturbed. Situated right next to the dispensary, it is an enclosed area with very little human footfall. Due to the growth of wild vegetation and tall grasses through the year, the area is preferred by the avian population. 

Many a times it is used as a breeding site. We have seen peafowl, egrets, lapwings, and herons before. This year due to the accumulation of stagnant brackish water, there are waterhen and black winged stilts as well.

During our walks around the neighbourhood, we make it a point to stop by this unusual birding site while it lasts. The chirps and twitters are pleasant to hear, especially in the evenings when the slanting sunlight gives the area a golden glow.

However, while the birds and their graceful flights look great, this swampy area actually points to a deeper malaise within the locality. Local residents are aware of the issues but the powers that be choose to ignore it. Six years of living in the neighbourhood have made us realise that systemic changes are impossible to pull off; the only options are to close our eyes to the problem, or grin and bear it. Of course there are more drastic measures that one may have to eventually take... 

But for now, I am loving this opportunity for backyard birding daily.

Update: Indian black glossy ibis spotted at this site on 15Feb2025.

Shiuli Season

 

When we moved into the ground floor apartment in Gurgaon, one of the first trees we planted was the Shiuli, more commonly known as the Harshingar or Parijat. Though my mother always had a shiuli plant in her well-maintained container garden, it had been a cherished wish of mine to have a shiuli tree of our own. Those lusciously fragrant dainty white flowers with their characteristic orange stems that fell as a carpet at the first touch of the sun tugged at my heartstrings. The sheer number of flowers laden on a tree planted directly in soil took the experience to another level. Those flowers and their heady fragrance held a lot of pleasant memories - of pujo, of the change of seasons and the onset of autumn, of my very identity as a Bengali. 

Shiuli flowers from our tree

The shiuli is a fairly large and tall tree, and an evergreen. It grows rapidly in the monsoon and requires a good pruning, so the flowers can come by autumn. But the flowering happens for only about a month in the entire year. And that month coincides with the peak festival season in most parts of India. Another reason why a glimpse of those flowers has happy associations.

Now the shiuli we planted in our front lawn started flowering right from the second year, giving us handfuls of white and orange every morning during season. As soon as the first rays of the sun touched the flowers, they would start dropping off, creating a fragrant carpet on the grass underneath. So we had a tradition of picking these flowers early morning, as soon as one was through with the morning ablution. Or sometimes between sips of hot tea. It was a revered tradition since the Bengali associate the shiuli flowering with the rise of the Divine Feminine.

Family tradition of Shiuli picking

But each morning as I plucked the shiuli, a few flowers invariably landed on the aloe vera shrub next to it. And aloe has thorns. Every attempt to reach the fragile shiuli flowers and brush them off the aloe reminded me of simple life lessons.

That much like life, the good and bad, the soft and the prickly, always show up together. And we have to navigate through the thorns to get to the beautiful flowers. Just like in life we have to wade through the unpleasant doggedly to get to enjoy a span of charming times. Then again, life is mostly mundane; the high points come only once in a while, like the festive season. And like the flowers of the shiuli. 

The last of the Shiuli flowers this year

So enjoy the good while it lasts, like the month-long shiuli season.

Chorchori Chronicles

Traditionally the Bengali staple mixed veg preparation called chorchori is supposed to have potatoes and spinach along with any three seasonal vegetables. As my mother taught me, there are five main players, hence the alternate name paanch-mishuli. So in winters, veggies like radish and cauliflower routinely make it to the chorchori mix, while in summers one finds bitter gourds, brinjals and pumpkins getting added.

Now here I was cooking chorchori in the rains, so the essential spinach was missing. It is anyway advisable not to consume these greens during monsoon as they spoil faster and host a few creepy crawlies. So I decided to try leaves from my moringa tree instead. Totally not kosher, as any Bengali mashima would tell you! 

Moringa tree in the backyard 

But while being experimental I discovered that the moringa leaves added an interesting nutty flavour to the chorchori. Also since they grow high above the ground unlike spinach, their leaves do not get spoilt by the rain. And, their health benefits are many. 

A closer view of our moringa forest

Moringa is a hardy tree, pretty resistant to the vagaries of the weather. Then why not give a modern twist to the traditional chorchori and enjoy it every season. If the spinach is unable to pull through our current climate change, an alternative is on hand already.

Notes From The Backyard - II

 

The Sunbirds' Story

Our old friends - the Purple Sunbird couple - returned this year to raise their family in our home again. But this time they chose the backyard to expand their brood. And from all the options available to them in our rather expansive backyard (including a man-made hanger similar to last year's hen chime), the sunbirds chose the bare, flimsy-looking branches of the Laburnum for making their precious nest. The nest was so low that it was at my eye level, and we were scared of potential attacks by predators once the eggs hatched.

The original nest of the sunbirds

Well, nature has its own ways and who are we to question that! The bare branches of the Laburnum soon filled out with new leaves, providing the perfect coverage that was required for the nest. All was going well - the eggs were laid and hatched on time, and the nest was sturdy enough to withstand occasional gusts of wind. Till one afternoon the unthinkable happened.... the leaf to which the nest was tied dried up, shrivelling in the hot loo winds, and fell to the ground, taking the nest with it. But the sunbird babies were lucky and landed on one of our plant pots. All this while the parents were blissfully unawares!

The makeshift nest in a cardboard box 

With the diminishing evening light, we swung into action. A cardboard box was quickly procured to house the nest with the babies, a hole cut in the middle so the sunbird parents could safely latch on, and this makeshift nest promptly tied up at the same place as the original nest so the parents could easily find it.

Thankfully, the parents warmed up to the new arrangement soon and started feeding the startled babies in right earnest. 

But our joy was short-lived as the very next morning, one of the babies got impatient and in trying to chase its mother, fell out of the nest. As we ran inside to get something to pick it up from the hot floor, in all probability the garden gecko had a swift feast. Saddened by the loss we kept an eagle eye on the remaining two sunbird babies.

Comfortably ensconced in the new nest

And predictably in the next couple of weeks they jauntily flew out of the makeshift nest.

The last sunbird baby on our drying stand after flying out 

Another year, another happy ending!

Notes From The Backyard - I

Mango Out, Laburnum In

It is incredible how the passage of time brings about changes - in people and in places. Sometimes the change is quick and therefore more evident, and at other times it evolves at its own pace, slowly but surely, before one suddenly realises that things have changed. The same can be seen in our backyard.

As I wrote in some of my previous posts (that you can read here and here), the lush mango tree was the centrepiece of our backyard. Once that came down, the place looked a little barren, almost lacking character. But it also made the house feel much hotter, with no green canopy providing any shade. So last monsoon we decided to plant an amaltas or yellow laburnum tree in place of the mango.

Yellow Laburnum sapling - June 2023

Though many friends suggested we plant another fruit tree, but given the propensity for termite infestation in the area, we chose a flowering tree instead. Amaltas is also appropriate for the arid climate and clayey soil of Gurugram, and hence a locally viable species.

Yellow Laburnum in April 2024

Its abundant blossoms in summer, hanging merrily in bunches of bright yellow, look so beautiful as they spread a sweet scent in the air. So our vote went to the laburnum.

Purple sunbird nest hanging from a Laburnum branch 

Now barely a year old, the tree is already housing its first nest, all thanks to the sunbird family. Augurs well for the tree and the home, I hope! 🤞🏼🤞🏼

Celebrating April

 

April is always a busy and festive sort of month in our home. Sharing with you some glimpses of the month...

The first week we celebrate a birthday, and the next week we mark the anniversary of our move along with the start of the Bengali new year. 

This is also the month when the onset of summer becomes evident and the garden is full of the seasonal blossoms before the hot winds of May and June make everything barren. 

Our home has always been blessed with bowls full of sweet-smelling blossoms -- shiulis in autumn and bel or jasmine in summers. A tradition started by my mother and one that we happily continue.

For this year's new year celebration we served square rava idlis along with avocado on toast, a first for us. The avo guacamole turned out delicious and creamy and the idli-chutney combo made a hearty meal. Of course we prepared the traditional payesh too but forgot to click a picture.

A Rookery In The Making

 

Last month on our evening walks we noticed droves of egrets and herons flying overhead in a particular part of our block. It was a magical sight, no doubt and we wondered what brought these water birds to be so close to human habitats.

On probing further, some obvious reasons emerged. The upcoming expressway in the vicinity must have disturbed their earlier haunts due to the construction noise, pollution, and sudden influx of activities. Meanwhile, the shady clump of trees in this part of our block provided the ideal coverage for these birds to spend the night comfortably and undisturbed. Slowly their numbers grew...

Till a friend informed us that the people living in the nearby houses were struggling to keep the area clean. Droppings, dead birds, clumps of feathers, and that peculiar smell associated with water birds made it difficult for the residents to cope.

I researched some more and suggested that the clump of trees should be cut to limit their numbers. It seemed to work for a little while but then they returned. Once egrets and herons start nesting at a site, it is difficult to dislodge them. Really feel sorry for the affected residents but in the process I learnt about rookeries - a colony of egrets and herons.

Their graceful flight is a pleasure to watch every evening. I hope in future we come upon a solution whereby both birds and humans can happily coexist.

Winter Flora and Fauna

The cold has been pretty brutal this year, mostly because we have hardly seen any sunshine. What should have been a cheery first post in the new year actually got to the finish line only because I had done my homework in the last month itself, when the sun was still out and the year-end festive feels kept up my mood somehow.

Indian Pioneer butterfly 🦋

All the creatures you see here have long disappeared due to the intense cold, fog and sunless days. So have the flowers...

But just a month back the skies were so clear and blue, that it appeared every creature was in celebratory mode. Including our national bird, that gave us quite a few grand appearances on our evening walks.

Proud peacock 🦚

While our chrysanthemums were blooming, this fellow would appear almost every day to bask in the sunshine. But once the weather turned grey and bleak, the poor guy turned black and sluggish, trying to warm itself on our front porch.

Garden gecko 🦎

I was intrigued by the colour of its wings, and initially mistook it for a bumblebee variety. Till I discovered it's real identity and saw it furiously collecting nectar from whatever blossoms it could find.

Carpenter bee 🐝

Finally a glimpse of our Lohri bonfire this year to beat the cold. Was a very short window of relief but we made good memories.

Praying for the sun to be out soon and for the soul-withering cold to abate.

Going Organic - Part 8

 

Writing an organic farming post after a long gap but today I will focus on summer vegetables that are easy to grow. And both of these can very easily be grown in containers, so are a blessing for balcony gardeners. 

The best part is that you do not require any special seeds or starters; just sourcing from your kitchen at the beginning of the season (around March-April) will ensure you have a steady produce in autumn (September-October).

Colocasia

This root vegetable (also called arbi/kochu) has giant leaves resembling elephant ears, and can be a showpiece for the garden all year round. The fresh leaves that come aplenty during the rains can also be steamed and made into a scrumptious side dish (patod/paturi/pathrodu). You can find an easy recipe here.

Colocasia or Elephant ears 

After the first season make sure to remove the produce, cut down the leaves, and replant the colocasia. They multiply easily and quickly; remember the more plants you have, the more produce you get. I had about four-five plants and got half a kilo arbi at one go.

Half the total produce

Bitter Gourd

On spotting well-formed seeds in some karela I bought from the market at the beginning of summer, I planted them on a whim just to see if they take root. And the rest, as they say, is history. 

'Karela' blooms 

Occasional rains ensured that the plants grew quickly, and by the second week of August we started getting flowers and the first batch of bitter gourd.

Five in one go!

Bitter gourd leaves have such a beautiful shape that I love incorporating them in my artwork. Of course, there are other creatures that seem to love this vegetable too! 

My garden of Eden!

So keep an eye out for infestation and spray pesticides if required. Adding NPK mix to the soil in the beginning ensures a good crop.

Happy gardening!

Frangipani Fiesta

When we moved house four-and-a-half years back, I had to leave behind a few pots due to paucity of space. The yellow frangipani was one of them. 

The old yellow frangipanis

A cutting of the same I planted on ground in our new abode did not take well to the new soil and developed fungi, spoiling soon after.

The large fungi at the base of the yellow frangipani 

To make up for the loss, the hubby planted a stem of white frangipani taken from the neighbour's garden. 

The white frangipani 

A year later I got another cutting of a red frangipani from a cousin. This year they both flowered well, thanks to the abundant rains.

The red frangipani 

In case you are wondering why I'm inclined to call the good old Champa as the frangipani, well I admit I find this name rather exotic. This plant that adds a touch of regality to the garden comes in many colours, is native to south-east Asia, and is also called the plumeria. But the best part - it is hardy and easy to transplant. 

The Many Moods Of March

 

Unseasonal rains in March brought down the unusually high temperatures of February and gave us a prolonged spring, with pleasant weather and blossoms everywhere. Here is a visual record:

Meanwhile, the story of the purple sunbirds also took an unexpected turn. 

While the female was comfortably ensconced for some days and nights, and then seemed to be feeding her newborn chicks, something seemed to have happened that scared off the sunbird couple. 

One fine morning onwards they discarded the nest, though they hovered around in the vicinity and kept an eye on it. Whenever other similar-sized birds tried to get near, the sunbirds chased them off. Yet they wouldn't return to the nest, leaving us pretty much heartbroken.

Towards the end of the month, a large peepul tree in the lane was chopped down, just a day after I photographed it. The tree canopy was full of shiny new leaves, and it was time for the rosy starlings to arrive when this happened. 

It was saddening to see how completely disastrous the timing of this exercise was. No shade in summer in an uncaring world.... unfortunately that is where we seem to be headed now.

The Sunbirds In Spring

 

Come spring, quite a bunch of flowers started popping up in the front garden - roses, nasturtiums, ice, and marigold flowers - to name a few.

And one could hear the familiar call of the sunbirds, with the bright blue of the male glistening in the sun while the female sported a more subdued green and brown plumage. As they flitted from one flower to the next, inserting their beaks in to suck nectar, we watched their antics from the living room. They seemed to enjoy the hanging hen chime in the porch, clambering on to it on every visit.

Then I took off on a three day visit to Bangalore, and returned to find the purple sunbirds starting to build a nest on my wind chime. Of all the places they could have chosen, they found this to be the safest place! Hanging mid air, delicately balanced between two bells, the most fragile nest started taking shape bit by bit.

Day 2

Tiny blades of dried grass, dry leaves and twigs, and a fierce amount of determination went into building the nest. As we watched with awe, the tiny female bird made innumerable trips, bringing in materials and deftly sewing items together with her sharp hooked beak. Watching her was a lesson in dexterity and patience.

Don't miss the round-shaped doorway to the sunbirds' home, or the overhang they added to ensure the insides remain shaded in the growing heat. After all, every species looks out to provide the best for the babies.

Seeing the frenzied antics of the purple sunbirds, and their sheer diligence in building a secure and comfortable nest, reminded me of Kahlil Gibran's words. Words from 'The Prophet' that are not only well-written but very appropriate, where he describes the process of birthing as "Life's longing for itself". 

Meanwhile, this story is bound to have a second part as we keep an eye on the purple sunbirds and their attempts at raising a brood. Stay tuned!

Summer Blossoms

It is indeed nothing less than magical that despite the searing heat of our summer, some special blossoms managed to bring colour to the garden and joy to our hearts, even when everything was wilting to yellow and brown.

Our summers always begin with the bright red amaryllis. This time the last of the larkspur gave them the perfect pairing.

The globe or football lilies bloomed after three years of planting. They would keep growing new bulbs but refused to blossom. Out of sheer frustration I started using the pot for seasonals and promptly forgot about these bulbs buried under. Till a pair of these beauties showed up!

The sea daffodils share a similar story. Initially planted in a shady part of the backyard, they sprung to action about an year after being moved to a sunny area. Their exquisite shape is breathtakingly beautiful.

Now as the rains have started, we are waiting for the colourful portulaca to blossom.

 

Encounters With A Bull Frog

 

After an exceptionally hot and parched summer that lasted longer than usual, one had expected to see a dwindling amphibian population. But at the first signs of rain, out came this bull frog from a storm water drain.

When it first made an appearance, we thought it would find a home amidst the numerous pots and dense bushes like most of its tribe did. But this guy had other plans... Instead of hiding from us humans, he proceeded to jump right in our faces, eliciting shocked screams and some heightened cardiac activity from me. Not just once, but repeatedly over a couple of days. 

Before long he took over the front garden, swiftly moving from one end to the other with his characteristic quick and long jumps. And then he would sit staring at us with his beady black eyes, almost accusing us of trespassing his territory and disturbing his peace. He made himself comfortable in my containers, lounging in them as though he was sitting in a bathtub!

Till one morning the boys decided to reclaim the front yard, and gave the fellow a little poke in his hind side. While the first couple of pokes were met with some disdain as the bullfrog scuttled about the garden, a third push became the last straw. The fellow jumped his way straight out of the garden and the main gate, determined to find a new abode. Even as we watched half-amused, he crossed the lane and disappeared down another drain. Bye-bye, bullfrog.... till we meet again.

The Mango Tree Saga

The mango tree has always been an integral part of our love for this house. The first time we stepped in to see the house with our agent, the mango tree caught my eye. Green and lush, it gave the backyard a focal point and much-needed character. That it also produced fruits was not of much importance. What mattered was the perfect canopy it provided, given our location in the sunny tropics. 

After we had officially bought the property and repairs had commenced, the agent got the mango tree chopped a bit to give it a definitive shape. I remember it looked shorn when we moved in, and I missed its shady canopy. 

But in the next couple of years, the mango tree became lush again, and its canopy expansive. The shade it provided was so inviting that we spent many an afternoon working on our creative projects in its cool embrace. 

Situated right outside our bedroom, it was also a favourite with the birds, as their noisy chirrups woke us every morning. As we lay in bed on hot and endless summer days, looking at the lush leaves outside made us feel as if we were lying right under the mango tree. 

Just after moving in, we had an amusing episode with a bunch of local kittens who scrambled up the mango tree in a bid to escape us. You can read more about that here. For the first couple of years, the tree did not bear too many fruits. I made chutneys from the handful we got, happy to have gotten any produce at all. But last year the bees were plentiful and the tree filled up with flowers.

Soon there were fruits showing up aplenty in all the branches, filling our hearts with joy. Just the sight of them dangling cheerily, never mind the strong gusts of summer loo, gave us a lesson or two in resilience. 

And this was when the Delta strain of coronavirus was wreaking havoc everywhere. While we also lost loved ones, this tree and its bountiful fruits gave us hope. Hope that life always renews itself.

In June we harvested a huge crop of sweet, juicy mangoes that we distributed to family and neighbours as well. Basketfuls of the king of fruits right in our backyard was such an indescribable blessing!

Then in July that year, the rains came in torrents, filling up the roads and open stretches, and with water entering our houses. Even after the rains subsided, the ground remained wet and humid for weeks. That is when the termites came, making the mango tree trunk their home and eating away its roots. They ravaged the mango tree from its very core, despite all our efforts to fight them. And slowly the tree dried up, its leaves turning a sickly brown. 

We waited till spring, hoping against hope that something may sprout again. But when nothing showed up, finally last month, about a fortnight after we completed three years in this house, we had to let the tree go...

The backyard looks barren now, and we feel exposed and open to the prying eyes of neighbours. It has been heartbreaking losing the mango tree; it truly feels like losing a family member all over again. Such was the benign motherly presence of our beloved mango tree! 

A saga that ended much too soon...