A cuckoo in the nest, and the peculiar quest

Cuckoo sings the song of spring

Yet it leaves its young for others to bring

Monsoon conjures up images of lush greenery, renewed energy and vibrancy in the air after the intense heat of summer. Along with the rumble of clouds and the patter of raindrops on the ground giving off an earthy scent, a new sound begins to reverberate in the surroundings: the call of the cuckoos. The melodious songs of the Koel, the two-syllable “cuck-coo” of the Indian Cuckoo, the soft melody of the Jacobin Cuckoo, and the harsh calls of the Common Hawk-cuckoo (Brainfever Bird) fill the air.

From being venerated in Hindu mythology to being berated in the West as a synonym for craziness, deceit, cunning, and many things in between, the cuckoo species has the human race enthralled with their antics. They have inspired poems, sonnets and love songs for ages, been immortalised in films (‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’), by the Germans in their cuckoo clock, and considered to herald the onset of spring, bringing hope and good fortune.

Cuckoos are famous — or infamous — for their brood parasitism, laying eggs in the nests of other birds. Of the 140 species of cuckoos in the world, 56 are brood parasites, of which 16 are found in India. They have been called lazy birds as they do not build nests at all. They have cleverly picked different species of birds to host their eggs and foster their chicks. Different species of cuckoos pick the nest of a host whose eggs are either most similar to their own or use egg mimicry (they can copy and make their egg look like the host bird’s egg) so they may go undetected until it is too late!

The cuckoo egg hatches earlier than the host bird’s eggs. The chick is born with the instinct to look after itself. As soon as it feels the presence of another egg, it puts all its energy into pushing it out of the nest. This attribute has earned the cuckoo the tag of being a bully.

The Asian Koel, a resident cuckoo in our part of the country, hoodwinks the House Crow into fostering its family. Very often, the crows are seen chasing the Koel into the blue yonder! This is a well-thought-out strategy between the Koel couple. The male causes a diversion by leading the crow away from the nest. The loud alarm calls (faked?) of the male being chased by the crows are probably a signal to its partner that the coast is clear for the deed to be done. The female Koel seizes the opportunity to quickly drop its egg in the nest, leaving the hosts without a clue.

The crow, known for its intelligence, is no match for the cunningness of the Koel. By the time the deception comes to light, it is too late, and the foster parents resign themselves to bringing up this interloper, which they do with the same care and love as they would their own!

The Jacobin Cuckoo is one of the prettier cuckoos. Its black and white appearance and spiky crest give it a distinctly debonair look. Called ‘Chatak’ in Hindi, it has a soft, bubbly call. Its appearance in North Indi, coinciding with the onset of the rainy season, has earned it the moniker of ‘monsoon bird’. In folklore, it is believed to appear in India from East Africa, riding on the winds of the southwest monsoon.

Research has since proved through citizen science records and bird ringing that a segment of the population of Jacobin Cuckoos resides in South India, while another migrates from East Africa to India to breed during this season. The Jacobin Cuckoo chooses the unsuspecting Jungle Babbler (seven sisters) to foster its chick. Even once the chick leaves the nest, it continues to demand food. The foster parent is at its wit’s end trying to feed this fledgling that is so much larger than its hosts!

The Common Hawk-cuckoo is so named because of its uncanny physical resemblance to a sparrow hawk (Shikra); however, the beak is a dead giveaway! It makes its presence felt, and how, with its crazy incessant calling all day and through the night. It is popularly nicknamed the Brainfever Bird. Its “cu-cu-koo” call steadily rises in a feverish pitch to a high crescendo before easing back down and abruptly ceasing. But before one can recover from the sound, it starts off again… and again… and again… setting one’s teeth on edge. It is especially nerve-wracking at night when you want to just pray it will decide to fly off the tree outside your window!

At the end of September, the curtains will come down on this episode in the avian world. The cuckoos will have done their duty in perpetuating their species — by hook or by crook. We bid them adieu, secure in the knowledge that they will be back once again, riding the monsoon winds.

— The writer is president of the Chandigarh Bird Club