Gangster Bird: Genesis
For the first time, we start at the beginning. This is the story of Baby Bird — Gangster Bird.
In the beautiful central part of south-western Singapore, there are trees, gardens and wonders of all sorts. It is a veritable playground for a freewheeling, blue-sky roaming spirit such as myself.
Life in the gardens, nay, jungle is tough. There are overly protective mothers, animals larger than you, pesky bees and unstable branches. There is sun, rain; brightness and darkness. There is weather that is too hot, and days that are too damp. There are times when flowers dry, and others when you get a cold.
Who am I, you ask? I’m Henry, an olive-backed sunbird, 6 months old. I have a brown back, and a yellow belly. In bird terms, I’m still a baby. But in the jungle, nothing is too large or too uninteresting as not to pique my interest.
They say curiosity killed the cat. Well, thankfully, I am not one.
I spend my days flitting the trees’ width around my home nest, built lovingly by Mum and occasionally guarded by Dad. I’ve only recently learnt to leave home, as I’ve only recently learnt how to fly. A tremendous feat of engineering and skill, this flying business is. And I’m still just getting my bearings about it. So far, I haven’t fallen mid-flight — which is a good thing as it would be fatal to— but, I do slip on the occasional branch whilst feeding on flower nectar. Those glorious Euphorbia bracteata often distract me to the point that I lose my balance.
I am rather a hostage to my hunger and a servant to my food, you see.
I still have downy feathers, and occasionally stretch and peck at them whilst whiling the time away in the afternoons. Downy feathers are a precursor to the silky ones older sunbirds have, but that doesn’t bother me much. It certainly doesn’t stop me from chirping at older but less assertive sunbirds if they come to feed at my favourite flower spot full of Euphorbia bracteata.
I do like Euphorbia bracteata.
My daily schedule involves visiting a balcony of these fully formed blossoms each morning; with multiple return trips throughout the day. Sometimes, I just sit on a branch and look at the sky, surrounded by these lovely psychedelic pink blooms. They are fascinating, these flowers.
They look like thumb-sized birds, but have zig-zagged stalks for branches. Their shape is perfect for my needle-like beak. Just right for me to dip in like a hot teapot pouring tea. I can do these for an uncountable number of times, throughout a day. It’s all I care to do when I’m not zoning out or observing the world above and around me. You could say, being surrounded by Euphorbia bracteata is the definition of a baller bird’s life.
Now, that’s enough introduction for one day. I’ll have you know that I’ll be guarding my feeding area and beloved Euphorbia bracteata from marauding cruisers and their wishful thoughts, one chirp at a time.
I am Henry, and this is my story. The story of Baby Bird — Gangster Bird.
