I saw the little lassie dart in and out, frantic, hyperactive, fussy
She seemed oblivious to my threatening presence, engrossed in carrying little blades of grass and other building materials in...
And a fine day, the construction was over. She had managed to put together a cosy home covering a few centimeters in my 2300 sq. ft.home.
The cute nest (not a masterpiece, as you can see) hung from a clothesline, about 7 feet from the ground.
I tried to keep out of her way but could not completely avoid the kitchen work area. In fact, I had to go there too many times.
Every time our paths crossed, she got agitated, and flew out through the iron grill. She then kept an eye on me from outside. She did not trust me one bit. I realized the lady was a mother. She had egg/eggs to guard.
I was consumed by my own nesting issues and the bird and her nest slipped down my interest list.
One day, while I was busy doing one of the many senseless tasks that humans do, I noticed the bird getting restless. I could sense her fear...Was she that scared of me? Was she worried that she could not fly out since it was getting dark?
We were quite used to each other by then: each respected the other species and its ways. What had changed that now?
I looked around, and a chill ran through me...a viper was gingerly making its way through the iron grill into the kitchen...For a few seconds I stood paralyzed. Then, I flew into action, which basically means, I started shouting and jumping...I found a broom and started hitting it on the platform near the grill to deter the snake from entering.
The snake ignored me, it kept inching forward. I found a cleaver (kerala style) and started pounding it on the platform. Now the snake flinched and reluctantly took notice. I kept pounding and the snake turned around in real slow motion and changed its course. I kept pounding till it slithered down the grinding stone outside and got into the bushes.
I heaved a sigh of relief and looked at the lady...was there a silent acknowledgement? I don't know...
We are different...our ways are different...only the instinct to hold on to life is common...
She seemed oblivious to my threatening presence, engrossed in carrying little blades of grass and other building materials in...
 |
| Her home in my kitchen |
The cute nest (not a masterpiece, as you can see) hung from a clothesline, about 7 feet from the ground.
I tried to keep out of her way but could not completely avoid the kitchen work area. In fact, I had to go there too many times.
Every time our paths crossed, she got agitated, and flew out through the iron grill. She then kept an eye on me from outside. She did not trust me one bit. I realized the lady was a mother. She had egg/eggs to guard.
I was consumed by my own nesting issues and the bird and her nest slipped down my interest list.
One day, while I was busy doing one of the many senseless tasks that humans do, I noticed the bird getting restless. I could sense her fear...Was she that scared of me? Was she worried that she could not fly out since it was getting dark?
We were quite used to each other by then: each respected the other species and its ways. What had changed that now?
I looked around, and a chill ran through me...a viper was gingerly making its way through the iron grill into the kitchen...For a few seconds I stood paralyzed. Then, I flew into action, which basically means, I started shouting and jumping...I found a broom and started hitting it on the platform near the grill to deter the snake from entering.
The snake ignored me, it kept inching forward. I found a cleaver (kerala style) and started pounding it on the platform. Now the snake flinched and reluctantly took notice. I kept pounding and the snake turned around in real slow motion and changed its course. I kept pounding till it slithered down the grinding stone outside and got into the bushes.
I heaved a sigh of relief and looked at the lady...was there a silent acknowledgement? I don't know...
We are different...our ways are different...only the instinct to hold on to life is common...
So rightly said.....the instinct of survival and protecting our nest is best and common in may may species
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