Angry birds: the jungle babbler edition
Contrary to their bad-tempered appearance, jungle babblers are cheerful birds that are affectionate with their partners and their extended family, whose members all pitch in to care for the young
They are loud and bossy and not very good looking but they are great fun to photograph. Thanks to the white iris and the bony ridge over their eyes, jungle babblers (Argya striata) look like angry villains. Contrary to their appearance, however, they are extremely loving and caring with each other and actually behave more like romantic heroes, who are madly in love. Squishing together on a tree branch, they plunge their beaks into their partner’s plumage, gently grooming them. I can almost hear the one that’s the object of all that affection instructing in its hoarse voice: “A little above that… Ah, that’s the spot! I’m a little itchy there. Now, straighten that curled feather… Yes, that one. Thank you!” They look so happy, after all that.
An academic ornithologist would probably be blind to the romance and call it “allopreening,” which means, “to preen or groom the skin or feathers of another bird”. But the public displays of affection of amorous jungle babblers would have invited censorship back in the black and white era of Indian films. The film maker would have had to stick in two flowers kissing in place of the canoodling birds. Romantic they might be but like characters in a mafia series on an OTT platform, they seem to use swear words with impunity in general conversation, which is always conducted at the top of their voices. Indeed, they are as argumentative as Amartya Sen’s favourite kind of Indian.
I’ve always wondered why they are called jungle babblers. The ones in the city definitely don’t need a jungle to survive. They move around in a group, which is why their colloquial Hindi name is saat bhai, which, translated into English, is “seven brothers”. The general English term for them, however, is “seven sisters”, no doubt bestowed on the birds by a gender sensitive person. Both sexes look identical so, really, the name could have been seven brothers, seven sisters or even seven friends. Why “seven” is another question. The birds do move in groups but these aren’t always made up of seven individuals. A group could comprise three, four, five, six, seven or even more birds. Not just argumentative like Indians, they are traditional like us too. Jungle babbler living arrangements are quite similar to what’s seen in an Indian joint family. Unlike most other birds who have nuclear families, jungle babbler parents are supported by family and friends. When the couple is ready to nest, other group members help them build their home and then assist in raising the young. Jungle babblers practise communal roosting and cooperative brood care. Babies are fed and taken care of by uncles and aunties. Actually, babblers even take care of the kids of their cunning neighbours. The bird’s eggs are similar to the eggs of cuckoos and those brood parasites take full advantage of this to, well, cuckold them into raising cuckoo hatchlings.
Babblers are not majestic like eagles, cute like finches or colourful like peacocks. The folklore about them focuses on their chattering nature and not their looks. And they do create a scary racket when they see a threatening stranger. Could this be called a non-violent method of besting a foe? The insects they prey on wouldn’t agree. According to Indian folklorist Saratcandra Mitra, the Lushai-Kuki tribal people of Tripura and Mizoram believe that, during a solar eclipse, humans can transform into jungle babblers. In the folklore of the Visayan people of the Philippines, babblers carry messages from the spirit world. Their calls are interpreted as omens signifying different things in different situations. The Burmese consider babblers sacred and believe they bring good luck. Their presence near the home is thought to protect residents from harm.
If that’s true, I should feel really safe. A flock visits me at least twice a day, all through the year. They line up outside my window, bang on it with their beaks and create a ruckus.
There are many stories associated with jungle babblers. My favourite is the one featuring an unnamed viceroy of India. In the early twentieth century, ornithologist and deputy superintendent of the Indian Museum in Calcutta, Frank Finn, is said to have chronicled a meeting between the colonial grandee and a group of jungle babblers. The viceroy was visiting the Taj Mahal and accompanying officials wondered what he would say about this glorious monument to love. Perhaps they expected him to say something on the lines of “Wow!” or “Mesmerising” or more likely, “Can I take it home?” given the colonisers’ proclivities. Thankfully, no British museum was large enough to accommodate the Taj Mahal. Anyway, the viceroy disappointed everyone by asking, “What are those funny little birds?” Instead of marvelling at the magnificent structure, one of the Seven Wonders of the world, he was struck by the babblers screeching around it.
Oh, well. That viceroy left India, as did many more until the British themselves left these shores in 1947. Jungle babblers, however, are still yelling at the Taj Mahal. They can live there rent free forever because they don’t represent any religion, caste or ethnicity. They can’t even be accused of gender bias.
The party that’s partial to my home doesn’t let me oversleep on weekends or national holidays when everyone else does. Still, I like them. I would have liked them more if they talked one at a time. Instead, they are like panellists on prime time TV news. I would have liked to control their microphones, and find out which one is making sense, and which one is screaming to hide its lack of intelligence, but hey, they more than make up for the racket by graciously posing for pictures.
Prerna Jain is an artist and photographer based in New Delhi. An extensive collection of her work can be found at her website www.prernasphotographs.com and at facebook.com/prernasphotographs. She is the author of My Feathered Friends.