Awakening the dead

It was a dry, dead branch at the top of an acacia. But that was before the monsoon touched with watery pout, to kiss and infuse greenery even in an otherwise prickly, irritatingly imposing silhouette of the acacia. Overblown life from the surroundings is creeping into the dead wood. The creeper is handing over its extra greenery by climbing over dead pricks and crown the treetop with a symbol of life. The canopy is getting its leafy top. Wonderful greenish encroachment. The birds though may not be happy because this dead branch at the tree top used to be their favourite sentry point to look around.

Dry branch after leafy donation by the creeper

Dry branch when the monsoons arrived and birds had their bare watchtower 

The seven spiritual laws of success by Deepak Chopra

One seed contains the potential of a whole forest. These 9000 words in this small pocketbook comprise a glimpse of the infinite and its day to day reflection in our lives. Explore your own space and nature within the infinitely dynamic exchange of matter in the singular stream of primordial energy shooting off in countless directions, carrying fixed laws and supported by infallible universal intelligence.

Love notes of a lonely bird

Oriental magpie robin's monsoonal love notes. The long drawn love notes are flying in air to catch the attention of an interested female. The guy is so absorbed in his love search that I reached just 3 feet from it. Only then it realised that there are more important things than love and irritatingly flew away to continue its mate searching song from a nearby tree.

The fort-maker on a rainy day

It's hot and humid, the sun sweltering over rain-lashed earth. There is a well-digger in my yard. Sweating it out since early morning. The sand wasp works more efficiently than a human earth mover. No noise, no pollution. Simply going in and coming in reverse with a sand ball tucked between its snout and the foreleg pair which it uses with the efficiency of hands. Freshly hued damp yellow sand growing up like a tiny mound. 

It's unmindful of me taking a picture from a close quarter. Given its single-minded focus, I wonder I may have a tiny hill and a spring--because water table is very high in rainy season--in my yard. Best of luck well digger. But please don't dig too deep to make a hole for a small snake to fit in.

PS: on further enquiries I find it's a friendly insect... doesn't aggressively bite like bees. Now I see why it's unmindful of my presence so near its sandy altar. It also preys upon mosquitoes and houseflies. So continue bro, lay down a long tunnel for your larvae and then prey upon our common enemies. In full support with you. Cheers!

PSS: in the video it's closing the gates of its fort, for new life, new cycle. While closing the gates, it even took a few breakfasty bites at a couple of ants also. Possibly it had missed breakfast today. After closing the gates it hovered over the mound with the elated buzz of a triumphant US military hawk helicopter. It has left a little depression around the gate and gone for the time. Not to loiter around I m sure. There is something in store in its scheme, which I cannot understand at the time. And I am proven right. It's never chalta hai attitude in nature unlike humans who take shortcuts and apartments and bridges collapse. The sand wasp had gone out to get some preys which it collects nearby under leaves. To keep its hole safe and guarded in its absence, it had put up a temporary earthwork by its opening. Coming back it removes the part time gate and gets into business again. It will lay eggs and leave food there. The larvae will eat, grow big and pop out into the world.

The fort-maker scraping a depression around the freshly dug cave-mouth to close it temporarily during its absence

PSSS: So that turned out to be its modus operandi: closing the fortress and temporarily, leaving an oblong depression around the opening, leaving the scene, and come back again after a couple of hours to start the task again. In the afternoon it rained cats and dogs, a furious rain storm which jolted even the farmers and big trees. After the storm I saw the  site lashed by the rains, the small depression around the opening filled with sand and the sand mound washed away. I thought it was over. In such a stormy blizzard the little insect must have been blown away to a far place, I thought. Or most probably it was even dead. But then the tough taskmaster showed that it was still around despite the storm. The next day I see again the trademark little depression around the hole mouth and gates temporarily shut. Well done!

Back to business after the floods.

Closing the gates of its fort again.

Some sweetly humid moments on a rainy day in the countryside

Life was never greener and more colourful in my small yard. Luxurious green of Harsingar, motia, jasmine, duranta, guava, Kari patta, Tulsi, murva and the ubiquitous sadabahar blooming out of proportion. Well, the rains have been good. Butterflies dart around, flirting with flowers and their mates amid airy swirls. Even the irritatingly prickly and boring keekars are luxurious green like a new bride. There are more birds. Breeding in the safe and overgrown greenery. I could see even a kite hovering in silent, serene majesty, its wings spread out in embracing comfort of the mother nature. Even in the countryside the sight has become a rarity and I cannot remember many during the past decade. So it's a positive sign for the birdie world. There are two couples of Oriental magpie Robins chhrrring around. The bulbul family is still around, improvising new and new calls. The mother bulbul is very possessive of its offspring and entails it all the time. Bee eaters sit silently and swoop suddenly to catch flying insects. One overzealous bee-eater swooped down on a dragonfly and sat on a dry mulberry branch, the prey bigger for its beat, thinking over what to do now. It then started beating the struggling bray on the branch, striking its on both sides by rhythmically moving its neck sideways. It appeared more like bird yoga. The wire-tailed swallow family is often seen with their swift dives and faint chips. There are lots of flying insects. So the young fellows are being fed well. Tiny tailor-bird tweets with best effect among all. A lovelorn male Indian Robin is persistently sending love notes to attract a mate. The other day it was drizzling and the lonely bird kept sitting on a high dry branch in the rain and continued with its pining notes. Well, let's hope lady luck smiles on it soon. The unperturbed stoicism of the dove pair is inspiring to a meditator like me. The babblers and crows are noisy though. The stern looking mynah always appears with an air of aloof, single point focus on her own affairs. Another pair of spotted munias has erected a new nest in Parijat tree's high branches. And the slow pace of life unfolds in its rustic majesty in the countryside.