I was grumpy. I spent a night in uneasy, fitful sleep and woke up at midday when the sky was high up in the sky-not feeling very refreshed even after nine hours on a soft bed covered in an even softer quilt in a room evenly cooled to 23 degrees Celsius. After a quick brushing of my teeth and lunch/breakfast , I crawled back into ed again to chat with friends about what conspired during the hours I was asleep.
I was feeling grumpier when my kid brother wanted me to get out of my very cosy position, actually moves my legs and make him some Maggi. Though I wanted to refuse like a complete ass, I restrained from behaving like one.
That was when I realized, that while I was engrossed in Youtube videos and another lap of already read gags which no longer made me laugh, the rains had descended ( or the clouds had peed, as one gag put it) and the marsh was filled up.
After quickly brewing a cup of Nescafe Gold, I settled into a bamboo chair in the balcony overlooking the marsh which brings me to the reason for this post: Why do we like listening to birds?
I hear them chirping- the minuscule good looking sparrows and fluttering about gaily. Among the waters with ripples under the influence of the tender breeze heading toward an unknown destination with immense confidence in itself, a bird wades around looking for game. I’m very sure they aren’t ducks because they have long thin legs like a crane rather than stout webbed feet I have seen in pictures for which my kindergarden teacher elaborated ‘D as in Duck’ and they make a peculiar noise- something between a titillating coo and a mere grunt.
A bunch of them, cranes neither, are contributing to a cacophony- chirping, screeching, ticking like crickets and droning- surprisingly pleasant. For all you know these birds could be squabbling and bickering.
“Hey! That’s my fish. Don’t you dare put your ugly webbed paws over them!”
“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do about it, you skanky- legs?”
So initially I thought I enjoy their ramblings because I don’t understand them. But people bickering in Mandarin or Finnish- I would want to run away from the scene, no not because the Chinese know Kung Fu.
Oh, A white bird just flew by with these magnificent wings, with its shadow falling on the waters below. How do they keep themselves so tidy? Right- they live by the water.
On the walkway besides the marsh, two middle-aged ladies are taking their evening stroll, talking in a language I don’t understand but their brows are knit and movements constrained, so I go back to watching the birds.
They are so engrossed- beaks in the water, eyes focused, strutting around purposefully undistributed by others. Do the fish evade their hungry mouths so deftly or is their appetites never fully satisfied?
I guess I will never know until I’m one of them. But I’m pretty sure they will never let me in on their little party.You see, I’m very awkward and gawky among strangers and take a little while to warm up to you. Nevertheless, no harm trying. So I’m going to go run a hot bath, ruffle up my feathers and see what kind of an impression I can make. And the light is slowly fading in the sky- so I better hurry. I don’t look half as good in starlight as I do in broad daylight. Oh, wait- I think it’s the other way around.