Close encounters of the avian kind
Baljit Singh

SOME birds are known for their splendid plumage (peacock), some for their musical qualities (shama). The blue whistling thrush is one bird which combines both attributes. The thrush is found at altitudes of 2000-3000 m in the Himalayas, from the western tip to the east through Nepal-Bhutan and Arunachal Pradesh into the Patkai, Jaintia, Khasi and Garo hills, in a crescent bordering Myanmar and Bangladesh.

Thus, when I chanced upon this Himalayan inhabitant in Chandigarh’s Rose Garden two months back, I was naturally ecstatic. There was this vagrant virtually at my doorstep. Unmindful of my presence, it was engrossed turning leaf-litter on the ground and picking morsels for its morning meal. As it strode into the sunlight, the colours and patterns of its plumage left me spellbound.

The size of a pigeon, the thrush is essentially blueish-black in colour, the blue more dominant on the wings and tail. Truly eye-catching are the transluscent silvery-blue wash over its crown, fine metallic silvery streaks on the neck, silvery-blue dashes on the chest and belly and a prominent crescent of creamish-white bold spots on the wings. Add to this the bright, chrome yellow beak and the thrush appears draped in patterns sequinned embroidery.

The thrush a singer par excellence. In winter, when it descends to the foothills, all you get to hear is its rasping call of kree-kree or the more mellow tzeet-tzee-tzee-tzeet. But to hear its yodelling, you have to ascend to its permanent abode. There, perched atop a big boulder mid-stream, the bird is a picture of joy and mirth. That is when it pours out its song to the music of the stream.

Its singing has been best described by Lt-Col R.S.P Bates, "Be the sun shining in a cloudless sky or the rain lashing in furious gusts, if a blue whistling thrush is there, its penetrating and pleasurable song will be heard. We have seen a bird on the nest with heavy rain drops splashing off its plumage, singing at the top of his voice while we took shelter from the storm under the over-hanging boulder on which its nest was placed." Colonel Bates was recognised as India’ first bird-photographer and the late Salim Ali was among his admirers.

In the regions where the bird’s song is prized, it is called hazaar dastaan and where it is known more for the gorgeous plumage, the name is kastura, likening it to a waft of fragrance.

In contrast to the joy I felt on sighting the whistling thrush, the incident of the missing owlets left me sad. For the past three years, I had observed a pair of spotted owlets nest on a Jacaranda tree on the city’s Jan Marg.

Smaller than mynas, the owlets are a compact ball of greyish-brown feathers, with white spots on the upper body and big watery eyes. They are both nocturnal and crepuscular, remaining in the open for a few hours after dawn and coming out again before sunset. If you catch their eye, they give a piercing stare and bob their body vigorously up and down. If they fail to intimidate an onlooker thus, they fly into the safety of the nest.

When on a March morning this year, I did not find the birds on the tree I was alarmed. They had laid eggs in February and were well into incubation. On closer examination, I was horrified to find that somebody had sealed the nest cavity with a piece of rubber from the tube of a car. I had the seal removed but still there was no sign of the birds. It was a sad moment for me.

Some tribes in Bastar and Chhota Nagpur are known to use owl flesh for medicinal purposes and in witchcraft. But even they observe a code of conduct of not harming birds in their nests, lest their reproductive cycle be disturbed. The person/s who sealed the owlets’ nest might be prompted to do soul searching by this response of Chief Seatlle given to Franklin Pierce, US President, in 1854:

Surely die from loneliness of the spirit.

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