Finding Home

     I was preparing my first cup of coffee in the morning when the black-naped Orioles began calling. They occasionally visit the Neem Tree that grew just outside our property ten years ago. I noticed how it sounded as if there were more than two orioles which was a rare occurrence. And so, I decided to take my coffee outside.       It took a while before they sang again, maybe a good 5-7 minutes or so. In which time, I had already taken the first few, very much welcome sips of my waking brew. I took in their song still seated, resisting the immediate urge to have a visual on them. I continued to relish my cup of black whilst basking in their music. As I did, I heard the zebra doves cooing their soothing tune like a flute as well. The yellow-vented bulbuls were chiming in their short but sweet tones. And not to be excluded were the Philippine-pied fan tails with their staccato-like chirps. It was as if I was listening to a mini symphony live. The garden was my music hall and the music

"Hokusai says look carefully. He says pay attention, notice. He says keep looking, stay curious. He says there is no end to seeing."      Yesterday morning a brown shrike perched on one of the branches of our Avocado tree, which was directly in my line of sight from my place at the breakfast table. The iron grills of our screened veranda perfectly framed the bird in diagonal parallel lines. It shivered and looked this way and that and pecked at its own body. And then it became completely still. I looked at the shrike for what seemed like quite a long time as it remained on that branch for what seemed like an eternity. The morning was quieter than usual and nothing else seemed to move nor make a sound. I could hear nothing save for the thumping of my heart and quickening and calming of my breath as I watched the movement and stillness of the bird.      I am inclined to believe that this is the same shrike that perches on our water tank staying longer than other birds, as if po