Wildlife In My Orchard

There is one thing I have been trying to nurture in my orchard, apart from fruit trees and flowers, and that is life itself. Life that arrives on wings, paws, and soft footsteps on the grass.

This morning, when I stepped out of the cottage, the mulberry trees were already alive with mynas. They fluttered noisily from branch to branch, carrying on their endless arguments in voices loud enough to wake the entire valley. Somewhere among them, a few bulbuls interrupted now and then with their cheerful little ‘tea-for-two’ calls. Tiny birds flashed about in little bursts of colour before disappearing into the leaves. I could identify a green-backed tit and a few black-throated tits, but that was about it. They were too quick and very far away.

I walked down towards the lawn, almost a floor below the house. Next to the steps, the chinese privet shrub was in full bloom, humming with bees. One butterfly also drifted lazily from flower to flower, as though it had nowhere important to be, almost like me today. I too seem to be just strolling from one place to another with no real purpose and just absorbing every moment of my existence here.

The grass was still wet with dew, and between the blades the white dutch clover shone. Bees busied themselves among the clover flowers as well, while two black-headed jays hopped about the lawn, pecking seriously at the ground in search of breakfast. At moments like these, I feel an odd sort of satisfaction. I don’t use harmful chemicals here, and perhaps because of that life still flourishes in this place. The orchard seems to breathe on its own.

Outside my cottage, there are lots of splashes of mud and patches of moss near the walls. The blue-whistling thrushes are building their nest under the roof again. They are untidy builders and leave the place looking as though cleanliness has been neglected for ages, but I cannot complain. Their music greets me every morning long before the sun reaches the place, and that is payment enough for the mess they create.

The dustbin outside, however, tells another story. It lies overturned more often than I would like. The civet has been visiting again. Though the orchard is full of fruit and insects and all manner of wild delicacies, it still seems to believe that the kitchen bin offers finer dining. I have learnt to empty it every evening, though once in a while when I forget, the civet reminds me by scattering everything. I am still unsure whether it is always the same fellow or several different visitors.

Then there are the cats. A few tomcats and smaller strays wander through the orchard as if they own it. They quarrel noisily at times, especially during the night, though I suspect the large black tom is the true ruler of the estate. The others seem to keep a respectful distance from him. Thankfully they keep mice and even some reptiles in control.

A jackal, too, has made this orchard part of its wandering territory. I am not fully sure if it is the one I had rescued few years back as a baby or a different one. I see it only once every few months, usually at dusk, slipping noiselessly between the trees. But I often hear its calls during the night, and over the years the sound has begun to feel strangely comforting, almost as though someone were announcing their return home.

Near the solar panels lives a porcupine. A shy and secretive tenant. I have seen it only twice in all these years, though I know it is there because of the burrow nearby and the quills that children occasionally discover on the ground.

Hares sometimes appear during summer evenings, darting through the orchard before vanishing into the undergrowth. I am never quite certain whether they live here permanently, especially with civets, martens, and cats about. I usually see them near the large pear tree under which I had recenly added a bench. Nature often finds ways of balancing itself so even with the other animals these hares too somehow manage to survive. Once, I even spotted a pika nibbling peacefully at dandelions, entirely unconcerned by the world around it.

And then there are the martens (not to be confused with Martians whom I have not yet spotted). They are perhaps the most mischievous residents of all. A pair lives just beyond the greenhouse. They move swiftly and almost always as a couple. Some months back, I discovered they had stolen a few of my golf balls and carried them away for reasons known only to these martens. At times they scramble onto the roof, only to be furiously chased off by the blue-whistling thrushes and the mynas, who take their duties as guardians of the house-roof very seriously. During spring they feast on mulberries and afterwards leave behind purple-stained droppings as evidence of their gratitude. Another gesture I could happily do without.

So the life in the orchard goes on, from dawn till midnight. Owls land on the roof at night at times with a loud thud. Thrushes wake me at daybreak with their music. Martens and civets keep me busy cleaning up after them. Cats keep the rodents under control. Bees reassure me that the land is still healthy and flowering. It is not a perfect place, nor a tidy one. But I love it. For this little orchard has become a small forest, shared between many creatures, where I too have been allowed to live.

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