Yesterday, the bulbuls decided to grace my garden with a nest.
Bebo and Bibi, as I call the pair, have been regulars in my garden for the past three years. I had, at that time, lured them into joining the birdlife around my house by planting a lantana bush. Initially, the birds came only to eat the berries; morning, afternoon and evening, they hopped about in the bush, eating the berries. They then ventured into the custard apple and sapote trees, pecking at the half-eaten fruits, remains of a marauding group of parakeets who lived nearby.
The addition of a birdbath — merely an old discarded vessel — which I strung on the sapote tree was the reason that Bebo and Bibi decided to stay and forage in my garden for long intervals. Who would have dreamt that bulbuls were such fastidious creatures? But they were, and they liked to bathe three times a day, taking turns, first Bebo then Bibi, plunging in and ruffling feathers before jumping out. Then onto a branch, shaking themselves dry before preening in the sun. If the water was cold, as it was during the rains, they would finish in a hurry, just like children taking cold baths.
