Nesting Sunbirds

At work, we have a garden. Technically it’s just a linear patch of green that runs parallel to the workshop, but it acts as an oasis, a place of calm and quiet in our rapidly urbanising environment.

About 20 years ago, my father cleared this little space and planted some seeds. Today the green has run amok, spread out to occupy the entire space, climbed up walls, torn them down and become a home for a wide variety of plants and animals.

Amongst these various inhabitants, my favourite are the Purple Rumped Sunbirds. They are a constant source of distraction and I’ve spent many afternoons watching them as they flit from the bougainvillea covered Peepal to the Bauhinias to the Cork, learning more and more about their behaviour.

Leading up to the monsoons of 2019, they started building a nest right outside a window of the workshop. The area was also where our workers gathered during their breaks. As they built the nest, they were habituated to constant human presence and that gave me a unique opportunity to document the entire process, using the blinds of the windows and neighbouring trees as cover.

At the time, I was unaware of the ethical pitfalls of nesting bird photography. If I knew then what I know now, maybe I wouldn’t have taken these photos. But nevertheless, here is their story.

Let me introduce you to the protagonists - the Female Sunbird. Not as vibrantly coloured as the male, but no less graceful.

The Male Sunbird flaunting it’s gorgeous colours as it indulges in a little bit of ‘Nectar Theft”.

The female Sunbird hard at work, collecting cobwebs, which along with miscellaneous plant material and lichens will form the bulk of the hanging pouch nest.

During the collection of cobwebs, the Male Sunbird decided to fight its own reflection in my office window - posturing and being territorial? Anyway look at that gorgeous violet/purple throat patch.

As the monsoons set in, the nest was finally ready, the eggs were laid and the female and male were taking turns to incubate!

The only problem was that the nest was hanging from the thinnest of bougain twigs. Despite being battered by the monsoons, it remarkably managed to hang in there.

Soon, the babies were born. Both the sunbirds were constantly at work, taking turns in bringing food. By now, everyone at work was hooked! The sunbirds (enemies of capitalism) were seriously disrupting productivity.

Then disaster struck - a day and night of torrential downpour finally dislodged the hanging nest. One of my Carpenters (as invested as me) noticed and quickly re-attached the nest using some string. Luckily the babies were fine and the Sunbirds came back to the nest immediately. Some serious inspection followed.

Soon things went back to normal, with the Sunbirds perpetually rushing off to appease the voracious appetites of the thankfully healthy babies.

However the nest was in a battered state. The rain had stopped for the time being, but I was extremely nervous. As I left for the weekend, I asked my workers to keep an eye on it.

Just before leaving, I peeked through the blinds and witnessed the female feeding one of the babies! Feeling immensely lucky to have witnessed that amazing moment and brimming with optimism, I left.

Unfortunately, my first glimpse was also my last. The nest fell again that night. It was tied again to a sturdier branch, but this time the babies didn’t survive and the nest was abandoned.

With the pandemic, I haven’t been able to track them this year. I see them on my short visits, chittering yellow-black blurs racing around the garden and I am filled with hope.