Hullabaloo in the banyan tree
Have you ever noticed how many birds make their homes on some ancient trees in your city
I stand under a banyan tree in Perur, sipping coconut
water, when I hear them. Is it the cuckoo? Or the myna? I can’t figure
it out; but it sounds like all the birds in the city have decided to
sing their hearts out. The sounds get louder as dusk sets in, and the
entire area is engulfed in the music. “They gather here every day,” says
Nagathaal, the tender-coconut seller. “Don’t we all go home after work?
It’s the same with birds. This is their home.”
The
tree must be way over 100 years old. Its branches spread out like an
umbrella and the thick canopy casts a cool darkness below. Nagathaal’s
shack is right next to the trunk. She has been waking up to the sound of
the birds every morning for the past 35 years. “They come at around
dusk and chatter till 11 p.m. They are up by 3 a.m.,” she says, speaking
of her bird-neighbours. There are many trees in the area, but none of
them is as alive as this one; mynas and crows seem to have a special
liking for it.
“Birds are attracted to huge, old
trees,” says bird expert A. Sukumar. “They roost in their branches in
the evening. Dense canopies protect them from predators.” Sukumar says
that many species of birds prefer banyan and peepal trees since they can
feed on their fruits.
These trees are like an
apartment complex where a variety of birds co-exist. They fly to their
branches hoping for a good seat for the night. There is competition,
which sometimes leads to squabbles. But most of them are settled
amicably. After all, they are old neighbours. “There is an understanding
between them,” says Sukumar. The evening cacophony has a lot of meaning
to it, he adds. “A bird might be saying to its partner, ‘Come soon,
it’s getting dark.’”
Sukumar says that some peepal
and banyan trees can house up to ten species of birds. “Crows will roost
in the top floor and mynas will take the middle floor. Smaller birds
will occupy the lower floors,” he says. Many other places in the city
have massive trees where birds roost in their hundreds. For example, the
banyan tree at VOC Park, the one near Vasantha Mill in Singanallur and
the one near Kurichi tank.
“The banyan tree is a
sanctuary,” says M. Gunasekaran, an independent bio-diversity
researcher. “We can sight a variety of bird species on its branches.
Fruit-eating birds, hole-nesting birds…the tree is a multi-dimensional
attraction.” Gunasekaran has spent long hours admiring the birds that
come to roost in the banyan tree in Perur.
It’s
interesting to observe them, he adds. “Like men who rush to catch a seat
for themselves and their family when a bus pulls over, birds fight it
out for a comfortable branch.” They must have worked hard all day,
looking for food, giving predators the slip…a few hours of rest will do
them good. No wonder their chorus dies down a little after dusk — their
day begins at dawn and they cannot afford to be up all night.
Retired
zoology professor K. Rathnam explains the 6.30 p.m. commotion. “For
some 15 minutes, there is a racket, and then they settle down. Birds
travel long distances to reach these trees, most of which are in places
they find safe.” Crows, cuckoos, sparrows…they can all be heard, but
it’s the myna that’s the loudest of them all, adds Rathnam.
Resting
as a group gives birds peace of mind, since there are multiple eyes
looking out for danger, says bird enthusiast K. Mohanraj. He says that
around 15 years ago, there was a strapping vaagai tree in Ramnagar from which you could hear the loud ‘quack quack’ of wetland birds. Sadly, the tree is not there anymore.
Now
that there is the promise of rain, cuckoos will be in the mood to sing
their best songs, he says. Ace photographer and writer M. Krishnan
poetically titled one of his books Mazhai Kaalamum Kuyilosayum
(The rainy season and the cuckoo’s song). Mohanraj adds that
urban-dwellers could hear the bird song in their backyards, if they
planted bushes. “Hibiscus, mullai, henna…plant them, and small birds will come to them. They will sing for you.”
Maram Thatha K.A.
Nagarajan, who has raised thousands of trees in Erode, feels that there
can be only one reason for birds to cause a hullabaloo when they settle
down for the day. “They are happy. ‘Appada,’ they feel, ‘my work for the day is over.’”
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