We moved to yet another house. Our fifth one, in 3 years. It is very bright and airy, with two bedrooms, a study and 3 balconies. We wake up to a medley of bird songs, with a lovely breeze tickling the chimes in the background. Sparrows chirp, mynahs whistle, pigeons coo - our own version of the morning raga. Its like living in an aviary. Though I must admit, the novelty wears off fairly quick.
We got used to sending birds flying whenever we open the doors to the balcony. We dont mind them roosting outside the house. After all, we have plenty of space and it is a good thing to share. All was well till one day, a lone feather came floating down into the kitchen. I discovered a pair of pigeons peeping in from outside the exhaust fan, and shoo-ed them away. A few days later, there were more feathers near the sink and some twigs too. Climbing up on the kitchen counter for a better look, I saw a nest. A very rudimentary one at that. Maybe they had just started building it. I had to get them to move somewhere else, so I cleaned the twigs out. The nest was back the next day, only to have me dismantle it again.
I kept an eye on the spot for the next few days and was relieved that the pigeons did not return. That is, until I discovered down in the bathroom. And then the War of the Nest began. Everyday a bloodless battle of twigs was staged in the bathroom. I would clean out the nest every evening, and the birds would rebuild it during the day. The pigeons looked at me dolefully from across the block, but I didn't have a choice did I? Nor did they. This side of the house was perfect for a nest, because it was shielded from the Sun at all times. They were adamant, and did not shift to a new place. Ha, they obviously dont know me well...yet. The war raged all through the week, when on Thursday, just as I was about to grab the twigs, I noticed an egg. $&^$# !!! The birds win.
So now our home has 2 bedrooms, a study, 3 balconies and a pigeon-hole.
In celebration of their victory, the pigeon couple added another egg to the nest.
