One recent morning, I woke up to a cacophony of bird calls, and was puzzled. My daughter said it was a loud avian protest against the presence of an owl. She led me to a window and showed me a large owl perched on the iron bracket of an awning. I had no idea why the birds should be that hostile to one of their own kind. They, of course, knew the owl was a nocturnal bird and had no business to be around by day.
The birds, singly and in small flocks, would make forays to the owl’s perch, obviously to confirm and reconfirm that it was indeed an owl. They then “mobbed” the owl, as birds are known to do. The owl, of course, was wise. It kept its peace and the protesters slowly dispersed in despair. The owl then preened itself and posed for a photo-shoot by my daughter. The avian cacophony was repeated in the evening. We noticed the owl was still on its perch. It was around for another day and then disappeared.
I had been familiar with owls from my childhood days in my village. On many an evening, after twilight had set in, I had watched them quietly landing on rats, picking them up with their talons, flying off to a low branch of a tree and feasting on them.
