This morning, loud kite calls made me look out the window. There, I found two kites perched over one another, probably in an attempt to mate. After a short struggle to keep their balance on the flimsy branch they were on, the male flew away, leaving the female to roost atop that tree. (I'm not certain of their genders; their lack of sexual diamorphism is both pleasing and confusing.) When I saw that the kite wasn't going anywhere and was merely taking in her surroundings, I reached for my camera and sat crouched in my window, staring at her.
Kites are one of my favourite birds in Mumbai. They add a sense of untamed wilderness to this noisy place, cutting through the traffic and crows with their piercing, predatorial calls. I first fell in love with this bird after rescuing one off Band Stand five years ago, and watching their numbers rise before my eyes ever since excites me. But they've always been birds that I'm in awe of, that I respect and gawk at. They have a domineering presence that one can't ignore. However, watching this particular kite today for an extended period of time, made me see a side of their personality I didn't know existed.
Kites are curious, distracted fellows, highly capable of looking utterly confused.
(The number of anthropomorphism sins in that statement would appall any scientist.)
This kite sat upon her tree, turning her head to look at every single thing that moved around her. Dragonflies, ruffling leaves, flying crows and sudden bursts of traffic. She twisted her head in every direction and seemed to take notice of me hiding behind my camera as well. She looked just like a cat would if you dangled several pieces of string around its head. In those twenty minutes, the kite went from looking large and majestic, to looking adorable and ponderous. I used to think the only thing on a kite's mind must be trying to look intimidating, but now, I realize they look intimidating despite all that goes on in their curious minds.
Kites are one of my favourite birds in Mumbai. They add a sense of untamed wilderness to this noisy place, cutting through the traffic and crows with their piercing, predatorial calls. I first fell in love with this bird after rescuing one off Band Stand five years ago, and watching their numbers rise before my eyes ever since excites me. But they've always been birds that I'm in awe of, that I respect and gawk at. They have a domineering presence that one can't ignore. However, watching this particular kite today for an extended period of time, made me see a side of their personality I didn't know existed.
Kites are curious, distracted fellows, highly capable of looking utterly confused.
(The number of anthropomorphism sins in that statement would appall any scientist.)
This kite sat upon her tree, turning her head to look at every single thing that moved around her. Dragonflies, ruffling leaves, flying crows and sudden bursts of traffic. She twisted her head in every direction and seemed to take notice of me hiding behind my camera as well. She looked just like a cat would if you dangled several pieces of string around its head. In those twenty minutes, the kite went from looking large and majestic, to looking adorable and ponderous. I used to think the only thing on a kite's mind must be trying to look intimidating, but now, I realize they look intimidating despite all that goes on in their curious minds.
