Updated on January 7, 2025
“What is that?” My brain screams. It’s early morning and I’m just waking up. There’s a moment before you’re fully awake; when your brain is still loading. You can hear and feel what’s happening outside, but your body hasn’t caught up.
The noise continues. It sounds like knocking – a persistent knock. Who in their right mind would be knocking at this hour?
No wait, the sound is coming from the window. Suddenly, I sit up straight in bed, jolted by what I see. This can’t be real. Am I still dreaming?
Part one: Boredom is evil
It’s a BIRD!
There are creatures in existence; you see them every day. You hear them daily. But, somehow, your brain refuses to register them. That was me until that morning.
Let me paint the scene.
I am sitting in bed. Mid-gasp. I am looking at a window on my right. There’s a grey-black bird with a white ring around its eyes, and the blackest eyes I have seen. They look like two tiny polished marbles.
It’s moving along the length of the window, pecking furiously at the glass.
I am confused. Does it want to come in? Does it want to break the glass? Is it possessed by any chance? How would I exorcise a bird? Would holy water work?
The frenzied pecking continues.
I sit there for a while, watching. I’ve established I am not dreaming. This is a real thing happening right in front of my eyes.
How does such a tiny weird thing exist? The feet resemble two tiny toothpicks, with an egg-shaped body on top. Who designs such a thing and for what purpose?
Come to think of it, why are there so many bird species?
I am hooked.
We must investigate this odd behavior. If it continues, I might have to repair a broken window.
Like any sane person, I whip out my phone and start recording.
Part 2: Lo and behold, a garden!
I’d never pictured myself a gardener. As a kid, my mom gave me a small patch to grow whatever I wanted. I was excited at first; the way kids are. I tilled the land, all 2 square meters of it. I put chicken manure. I roamed the neighborhoods looking for the choicest flowers to plant.
I watered that garden every evening after school.
Weeks went by.
Months went by.
Nothing. Not a single plant survived.
A quick parting happened soon after. Gardening and I were divorced for good, and nothing, not even an act of God would ever bring us back together.
Years go by.
HELLO COVID! Lockdowns. Curfew. If you were living in an urban area, woe unto you.
It feels like we healed and moved on physically, but something is still off mentally. I’ve come up with no other “reasonable” conclusion for all the weird happening now.
That’s also how I ended up in a rural area after the lockdowns were lifted.
For half the price of a tiny place in town, I get double the house! This is more house space than I ever lived in – two balconies to boot, with one overlooking a mini forest on the East side.
I be there chilling, sunbathing in the mornings like a wealthy retiree. I love it. How come no one told me rural life could be this chill?
Imagine waking up to a wall of green swaying trees and a sunrise so gorgeous you weep into your morning coffee with joy.
Months go by.
I spend more time on the balcony. I’ve been reading from there in the afternoons when it’s cooler. It’s fairly private. The afternoon breeze sweeps over you, and your whole being relaxes. What could go wrong?
RAIN!
It rains on the balcony. The wind brings it right to the door. F_ck. Are my rich-retiree days over? How long will it last?
Weeks go by.
It’s not letting up. According to the weather people, it’ll rain for a few more months and then we get to the real cold season.
Wait what? F**k these rural areas. How come no one told me it’d be this rainy and muddy?
I stand at the window, watching the raindrops snake their way down the pane. There are thunderstorms in the distance and the occasional lightning bolt.
That balcony is pissing me off. There’s all that space I’m paying for but can’t use for months.
Weeks go by.
More tea. More thoughts. More brooding.
Finally an idea: I’ll plant spinach! That space must carry its weight around here. Nature does abhor a vacuum.
One slight problem.
I don’t have the money for a balcony garden. (Have you seen what writers make? Made? With LLM’s, everyone is a writer, creating literary masterpieces at the stroke of the Return key.)
The price of the containers alone brings tears to my eyes. My heart is set though, that space MUST…SHALL bring a return for my rent, half as it was from life in town.
I was working as a sustainability and clean tech writer for a website in the industry at the time. I decided to put some of what I’d learned into good use.
Ladies, gentlemen, and future robots, that’s how I ended up with a garden from recycled cement bags, discarded packaging materials, and disposed water containers.
What started as a spinach garden turned into an everything garden. Flowers that couldn’t grow when I was a kid flourished. I grew tomatoes, peppers, and even sweet potatoes.
What can I say, RAIN HAPPENED!
Part 3: The accidental birder
I’d never heard of birding.
Who in their sane minds watches birds? What could possibly be so interesting in a bunch of silly little creatures that fly around all day doing nothing? Wait till I discovered people fly across oceans just to see a bird!
That day I sat there and wondered, what has the world come to?
Little did I know, I was on the edges of the bird gravity well, the bird event horizon.
Birds can’t possibly be real.
I am sitting in bed, eyes wide open, watching a White-eyed slaty flycatcher furiously pecking at my window. I’ve run my recording through Google Lens. (How else would I know the name?)
I watch for close to fifteen minutes. The bird is still there, fighting its reflection. How is this thing real?
Weeks go by.
It keeps coming back. It has turned into my alarm clock. I’ve gone through all the stages of grief at this point. My sleep will never be the same again.
Then one morning, it’s gone.
Wait, what happened? Where is it? Was it mauled by a cat? How am I supposed to go back to my phone alarm?
Days go by.
I wake up one morning, look through the window and scream.
A tiny black bird with a long curved beak, a purple neck, and a shiny black head is staring at me. It’s not moving. It’s just there. Staring.
It looks like something straight out of a horror movie. I half expect it to morph into a witch or something. Anything at this point would be more believable.
Half an hour goes by.
It has not moved an inch.
“Well, it’s been a good run. These must be the ancestors come to collect thee.” My half-awake brain monologues.
Nothing happens. No sudden cough. No heart palpitations. No dim dim vision.
Minutes go by.
Um, I don’t think these are the ancestors. I hop onto Google Lens, it’s a SUNBIRD!
Did it have to be this weird? I get up and take a closer look.
It’s incredible. I can’t quite explain it. I don’t know what happens to our brains when we actually see birds. The chemistry eludes me. But, I stood there, staring back. I looked at the shape, the colors, the quick heartbeats, the glassy eyes, the size and scale compared to the wider landscape.
It felt like an encounter with an alien thing. Something out of this world. That it could even fly blew my mind. What does such a tiny thing eat even? Does it spend all its day staring into people’s homes like that?
Part 4: What do birds do all day?
Months go by.
It’s early morning. I’m holding my favorite mug of tea. I am standing by the window watching several species of birds playing in the garden. I’ve added a few DIY bird feeders because why not?
Go big or go home.
Due to popular demand (and blazing temperatures), I’ve also added a water feature. It’s my ramen bowl filled with water – the only container that accommodates the birds’ small sizes without drowning them.
It’s all surreal. It still feels like I am dreaming. How could there be this many species of birds here, all at once?
There are tiny maroon birds with beautiful sounds. At first, there were just two, now there’s a flock of about twelve. Their sounds are like a live orchestra.
Then there are yellow-black birds. These come in a variety. They are not the same bird but they share colors. They behave very differently and sound different too. At first, there were three, but now there are three pairs.
According to Google Lens, one of the species is the Baglafecht weaver. They are the ramen bowl hogs. They bathe every day. Any time the sun peeps, they magically appear for a splash in the water.
Hummingbirds are well represented too. I didn’t know there were these many. There are tiny ones, big ones, and outright strange ones with funny long tails.
It’s the colors for me. I have never seen such a richness of colors.
Did you know there are purple birds!? PURPLE!
Then one day, I woke up to a bunch of long-tailed brown birds feasting on my tomatoes. According to the Googs, these are the Speckled Mousebirds. They eat fruit and veggies. I have seen them eating spinach and some of my indigenous leafy greens. They are “vegetarians” and yet big and the most unruly.
There are several families of sparrows. Some have turned the garden into a bird daycare. The parents leave the juniors here while they go hunting for bugs. They started a couple, now the family has ballooned. Clearly, no one told these parents about family planning.
Every day brings another surprise. A bird I haven’t seen before. Or, an increase in the number of the ones I have seen.
The first time I saw a bird feeding its young was surreal. I am sitting on the balcony, sunbathing and reading. The sun is back and my wealthy retiree days are back in full force.
I am watching a bunch of birds. Suddenly a bird puts its beak down another’s throat. There’s a shake the chicks do to show they are ready to feed. I sit there shocked. How is this real?
However, nothing, and I mean nothing could prepare me for what I’d come to witness.
Nothing.
Part 5: Holy crow!
I’ve seen my fair share of crows in movies. What you don’t perceive there is size. They are way bigger irl, stronger, and meaner-looking than I imagined.
But, crows aside – mere commoners. Lol.
I am working one afternoon and hear a loud knocking on the window. “Not again,” I mutter to myself. This sounds different. It’s like someone throwing logs against the window. It’s spaced and thunderous. That can’t possibly be a bird, I think as I walk towards the window.
I am standing there looking at two massive birds perched on the window sill.
I mean massive.
Way bigger than a crow. Their beaks look ancient. Their feet are big and muscular and also look ancient.
There are two of them, occasionally knocking their beaks together. The sounds are out of this world. I have never seen them at this close range.
Onto Lens once again. They are a species of hornbills. What do they eat with those weird-looking beaks?
I stand there watching for a long, long time. My eyes register them, but my brain can’t comprehend their existence. Birds are a world all unto their own. From birds so tiny they seem physically implausible, to birds so big, and with such weird beaks, they look made up.
There are more than 10,000 recognized bird species worldwide. I saw well over 30 watching that garden.
Epilogue: Wake up.
Have I been dreaming?
I’ll admit it now. I was a little harsh on birders.
There is just something magical about birds. I think it’s the variety in species, colors, sounds, shapes, behavior. You can always count on seeing something you’ve never, EVER, seen before. I now get why people pay a fortune to cross oceans just to see a rare bird.
I still can’t explain the appeal. The other day I am deep in a forest, casually watching a bunch of birds I’d never seen before. Soon I might be that completely sane person crossing oceans to lay my eyes on a rare bird.
In which case, wouldn’t two birds in the bush be worth more than one in hand to a birder? What are you doing with a bird in hand anyway? Let the birds be.
Happy National Bird Day!
