The Birds Have Returned

I heard a sparrow’s song—and, yes, there was a sparrow perched on a porch bar.

Then several days later, I heard a melodic song—and found a red-vented bulbul on the wire. The birds had returned.

I wondered, Why, if we are in a drought, have they come?—only to discover we were to have our first rain, then four days of some rain, and today a second drenching.

In a rickshaw yesterday, in rain so heavy I’d worn a two-piece American rain suit and black rubber boots, I heard my driver tell this: If a bird builds a nest at the top of the tree, it means there will be little rain; if in the middle of the tree, there will be some rain; and if near the bottom, there will be a lot of rain. I didn’t ask if he’d seen a nest, but I had an inspiration that the birds in my compound had returned—knowing rain was coming.

This morning, driving out the dirt lane, where pools of water stood on both sides, I saw a big bird—stock-still in water—and stopped to watch, hoping it would move. I was without my camera. My first thought was, I’ll take a photo tonight—then that changed to, Turn around and get the camera, and I took several good, clear photos.

Tonight, the bird was gone. Paging through A Field Guide to the Birds of India, I realized what I’d seen was most likely a woolly-necked stork.

My realization is, "Living without knowledge about birds, through observing, we may find ourselves naturally informed by attuning to cycles of weather and bird behavior."