It's the Small Things | The Bulbuls Build a Nest

Yesterday, the bulbuls decided to grace my garden with a nest.

Bebo and Bibi, as I call the pair, have been regulars in my garden for the last three years. I had, at that time, seduced them into joining the birdlife around my house by planting a lantana bush. Initially, the birds came only to eat the berries; morning, afternoon and evening, they hopped about in the bush, eating the berries. They then ventured into the custard apple and chikoo trees, pecking at the half-eaten fruits, remains of the marauding of a group of parakeets who lived nearby.

The addition of a bird bath – an old, discarded vessel – which I strung on the chikoo tree was the reason why Bebo and Bibi decided to stay on in my garden. Who would have dreamt that bulbuls were such fastidious creatures? But they were, and they liked to bathe three times a day, taking turns, first Bebo then Bibi, plunging in and ruffling feathers before jumping out. Then onto a branch, shaking themselves dry before preening in the sun. If the water was cold, as it was during the rains, they would finish in a hurry, just like children taking cold baths.

I soon learnt to distinguish Bebo and Bibi’s pleased chirps ('isn’t it a beautiful day'), excited chitters ('I found a nice ripe chikoo, come and see'), frenzied calls ('there is a snake nearby') and even the coy mating chirrups. If I had forgotten to replenish the water in the bath, or the water was dirty, Bebo would scream blue murder. It was amusing to see the little tyrant loudly scolding me till I went out to remedy matters. Bibi was more polite while criticising me, though.

The bulbuls also shared space with a troop of other birds, all of which came for a drink and a bath. There were the magpie robins (who always thanked me with melodious songs), busy babblers, and the mynahs. Even the tiny tailor birds and the munias came, careful of losing their footing but trying to take a dip. And I am sure we could take a few etiquette lessons  from the birds waiting for their turn patiently, though the rambunctious mynah didn’t care much for queues.

In the meanwhile, Bebo and Bibi were also busy making a family, though they always nested elsewhere. I saw them bring their fledglings to the chikoo tree, once or twice. And I also saw them lose their chicks to a predatory crow. I didn’t think much of the parenting abilities of the bulbuls. In my childhood I had seen bulbuls building nests in the most inappropriate places, where they were savaged by crows and cats. It seemed to me that bulbuls were witless when it came to hiding nests, or teaching their babies how to survive. Some of my earliest birding experiences had to do with trying futilely to stop a crow from raiding bulbul eggs or cats pouncing on baby birds who left the nest too early. I must admit, that I was too young to understand that, what I saw as foolishness, was merely hapless creatures trying their best to adapt to new habitats necessitated by human ravages.

So it was with trepidation but not much surprise that I spotted Bebo-Bibi’s nest: they had decided on the net of my fruit harvester pole, of all things! The small rounded nest appeared yesterday, cuddled snugly into the hollow of the net. I had kept the pole safely under the overhang of a sunshade, protected from rain, but otherwise open to casual eyes. I guess the bulbuls thought it was a fine place, the poor muddled things! And they are not secretive about it, either. All day long you can hear them chirping loudly near the nest, carrying bits of twigs, and thread and what-not with a flourish.

I am not sure what the next days will bring: will my bulbuls succeed in bringing their chicks into this world? And I wonder at my role in this little drama: should I help hide the nest by hanging something over it? Should I take guard duty when the eggs are laid? What about seeing that the chicks can reach a safe harbour when they begin to fly?

Or do I simply turn a blind eye and leave them to it?

Sujata Egbert is a space scientist turned automotive researcher, now 'retired' from technology, enjoying the small things of life.

We’ve grown up hearing that “it’s the small things” that matter. That’s true, of course, but it’s also not – there are Big Things that we know matter, and that we shouldn’t take our eyes, minds or hearts off of. As journalists, we spend most of our time looking at those Big Things, trying to understand them, break them down, and bring them to you.

And now we’re looking to you to also think about the small things – the joy that comes from a strangers’ kindness, incidents that leave you feeling warm, an unexpected conversation that made you happy, finding spaces of solidarity. Write to us about your small things at thewiresmallthings@gmail.com in 800 words or less, and we will publish selected submissions. We look forward to reading about your experiences, because even small things can bring big joys.

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