A few days ago , a small fledgling fell off a tree . There are large leafy trees on the property , with leafy canopies . Inside them reside many a birds' nest . They are commonly not visible from our ground level vision .
So , there was this fledgling , thrashing its wings , turning its tiny body , this way and that , being tossed about by fate's cruel hand , gasping and trying to survive in a world of indifference and helplessness .
I was attracted by the commotion of the birds .
What was surprising is that the birds , cawing , shrieking and screeching around this helpless little baby comprised of at least five different species .
I counted seven raucous babblers , two stoically silent mynahs , three spotted doves , silent and commiserating , one very distressed and flapping treepie , one magpie robin , who took off shortly , saying to itself " its none of my business" .
I realised it was a neighbourhood . Much like the humans , they all , regardless of their colours and ethnicities , had gathered together , clucking their solidarity in this time of grief . It was in all probabilities , the handiwork of a wily cat , who , when waylaid with such noisy protest , dropped its prized catch and rushed off to hide somewhere . Of course , it must have arrived later to claim its victim , as the fledgling , quietly , and neatly , disappeared after a few hours , without nary a trace .
The baby was grey , fluffy , large and ungainly . It could have been a baby babbler , or a baby myna , for it had tiny yellow feet .
As I retreated t my newspaper , I saw a large kite hovering in the sky .
It could have been the handiwork of a bird of prey . Why not ? A clumsy moment and it dropped its morsel.
