Friday, April 28, 2006
In the Company of Parrots and Unkind Ravens
By Terry Ross (tross@mail.bcpl.lib.md.us)
A bevy of quail
A bouquet of pheasants [when flushed]
A brood of hens
A building of rooks
A cast of hawks [or falcons]
A charm of finches
A colony of penguins
A company of parrots
A congregation of plovers
A cover of coots
A covey of partridges [or grouse or ptarmigans]
A deceit of lapwings
A descent of woodpeckers
A dissimulation of birds
A dole of doves
An exaltation of larks
A fall of woodcocks
A flight of swallows [or doves, goshawks, or cormorants]
A gaggle of geese [wild or domesticated]
A host of sparrows
A kettle of hawks [riding a thermal]
A murmuration of starlings
A murder of crows
A muster of storks
A nye of pheasants [on the ground]
An ostentation of peacocks
A paddling of ducks [on the water]
A parliament of owls
A party of jays
A peep of chickens
A pitying of turtledoves
A raft of ducks
A rafter of turkeys
A siege of herons
A skein of geese [in flight]
A sord of mallards
A spring of teal
A tidings of magpies
A trip of dotterel
An unkindness of ravens
A watch of nightingales
A wedge of swans [or geese, flying in a "V"]
A wisp of snipe
A bevy of quail
A bouquet of pheasants [when flushed]
A brood of hens
A building of rooks
A cast of hawks [or falcons]
A charm of finches
A colony of penguins
A company of parrots
A congregation of plovers
A cover of coots
A covey of partridges [or grouse or ptarmigans]
A deceit of lapwings
A descent of woodpeckers
A dissimulation of birds
A dole of doves
An exaltation of larks
A fall of woodcocks
A flight of swallows [or doves, goshawks, or cormorants]
A gaggle of geese [wild or domesticated]
A host of sparrows
A kettle of hawks [riding a thermal]
A murmuration of starlings
A murder of crows
A muster of storks
A nye of pheasants [on the ground]
An ostentation of peacocks
A paddling of ducks [on the water]
A parliament of owls
A party of jays
A peep of chickens
A pitying of turtledoves
A raft of ducks
A rafter of turkeys
A siege of herons
A skein of geese [in flight]
A sord of mallards
A spring of teal
A tidings of magpies
A trip of dotterel
An unkindness of ravens
A watch of nightingales
A wedge of swans [or geese, flying in a "V"]
A wisp of snipe
Muted Spring
By Kushwant Singh
Spring has given way to summer. My mango tree, which was in flower
till last month, has shed them and is loaded with tiny fruits. So are
my citrus trees – lemons, oranges and grape-fruit. A couple of weeks
ago, I spent my morning under a peach tree in full bloom. I now sit
under the same tree with clusters of unripe peaches. The same birds
visit my back garden – babblers, bulbuls, magpies, robins and,
occasionally, purple sunbirds, to steal last drops of nectar. Kites
wheel round in the blue sky. Crows, pigeons and doves fly in and out
as do white and blue butterflies. Barbets have been calling to each
other for over a month.
Nothing seems to have changed very much over the year except two
things: I haven't seen a sparrow in these months; they used to fly
everywhere, in and out of my flat. Come to think of it, any time it
rained, earthworms that supplemented sparrow diet would be littered on
the lawn. We have had several showers, but I have not seen a single
worm. And I have yet to hear the call of a koel. In past years I often
heard them on cold winter nights. We are close to Baisakhi and not a
distant note. Is it that they have decided that Delhi is no longer
worth living in? I am inclined to agree, but I continue to live in
Delhi. Their numbers have dwindled to a dangerous low. If steps are
not taken, they may disappear forever.
Who cares! We are so obsessed with political wranglings, social
scandals, murders, rapes and other human preoccupations that leave us
little time to ponder over the rapid decline of other forms of life.
All we do is to pay lip service to the notion of preserving the
environment. Little or nothing is being done to restrict the reckless
use of poisonous insecticides and pesticides. No political party has
given this any importance.
If we continue to remain indifferent, bird song will become a memory
of the past, our springs will be marked by silence.
Spring has given way to summer. My mango tree, which was in flower
till last month, has shed them and is loaded with tiny fruits. So are
my citrus trees – lemons, oranges and grape-fruit. A couple of weeks
ago, I spent my morning under a peach tree in full bloom. I now sit
under the same tree with clusters of unripe peaches. The same birds
visit my back garden – babblers, bulbuls, magpies, robins and,
occasionally, purple sunbirds, to steal last drops of nectar. Kites
wheel round in the blue sky. Crows, pigeons and doves fly in and out
as do white and blue butterflies. Barbets have been calling to each
other for over a month.
Nothing seems to have changed very much over the year except two
things: I haven't seen a sparrow in these months; they used to fly
everywhere, in and out of my flat. Come to think of it, any time it
rained, earthworms that supplemented sparrow diet would be littered on
the lawn. We have had several showers, but I have not seen a single
worm. And I have yet to hear the call of a koel. In past years I often
heard them on cold winter nights. We are close to Baisakhi and not a
distant note. Is it that they have decided that Delhi is no longer
worth living in? I am inclined to agree, but I continue to live in
Delhi. Their numbers have dwindled to a dangerous low. If steps are
not taken, they may disappear forever.
Who cares! We are so obsessed with political wranglings, social
scandals, murders, rapes and other human preoccupations that leave us
little time to ponder over the rapid decline of other forms of life.
All we do is to pay lip service to the notion of preserving the
environment. Little or nothing is being done to restrict the reckless
use of poisonous insecticides and pesticides. No political party has
given this any importance.
If we continue to remain indifferent, bird song will become a memory
of the past, our springs will be marked by silence.
