Categories
Hobbies

Weekly Photo Challenge: Treat


I’ve always had a soft corner for birds. But it’s always been a challenge to photograph them near my house. They hardly sit still long enough to allow me to take a picture. The birds in the jungle though seemed to be quite extroverted.

The Jungle Babblers, which are so restless in the city, didn’t seem to be afraid of us at all. One sat right next to us on our Gypsy, while a few more were perched atop the wind shield. Looking at the pictures, I suppose they were probably angry because we were trespassing their territory.

We spotted a Rufous Treepie at the exact same spot under a bush three times. I suspect it was looking after a nest, although I didn’t find one.

There were several Bulbuls too — some that allowed me to come real close. As strange as it sounds, I’d never been so close to them before in my life. And in my greed to capture a close-up, I didn’t get a clean shot at all.

Here are a few shots I did get.
Click on a picture to view larger size.

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Treat.”

Categories
Hobbies

Birds of a feather


I have been fortunate to have spent my life in a place where there is plenty of greenery, with exotic birds for neighbours.

When we were small, I remember walking around with my friend, picking up things from the ground. We pressed leaves and flowers and stuck them on the pages of an old notebook, along with little stones, feathers of birds and strange looking seeds. We would try to identify and write down the names of the things we collected and took turns taking care of it. It smelt a little, but we were very proud of it — it was our little treasure chest.

Yes, we were advised not to pick up things from the ground. But we picked them up nonetheless. A hobby that has never faded away. To this day, my cupboard overflows with boxes full of seashells, stones, seeds and feathers.

My friend would eventually give our scrapbook to a science teacher in our school. It upset me for a while, but then she probably knew it was better to let go, than to hold on. I tried to recreate the collection, but I ended up throwing it away — apart from the stench of rotting plants, it was the tiny insects which had turned the feathers to dust that made me discard it.

Since then, I have taken extra care of my feathers, keeping the soft delicate ones in an airy box. The larger ones occupy pride of place atop a bookshelf, alongside photographs of family and friends.