The Babblers Five: Soul Sisters and Charming Angry Birds

Of the sixteen or so species of babblers found in India, let’s meet five of the most commonly encountered. These dowdy mynah-sized birds wear no glad rags, but some of them (the drabbest) make up for this by having personality in spades. They are all resident birds, so we can enjoy their company (and shenanigans) throughout the year.

The most well-known babbler has got to be the jungle babbler (Turdoides striata) — one of my all-time favourites. Its shabby khaki uniform always reminds me of a glowering beat constable, complete with swinging lathi (the loosely dangling tail!). As if ordered by the ruling dispensation, a posse of around 6-12 birds will sneak into your garden, muttering harsh insults under their breath, and begin a thorough search — turning over dead leaves and twigs and rubbish, clearly on the lookout for ill-gotten gains. Contraband spiders, cockroaches, beetles, and pieces of bread or roti will be immediately confiscated and devoured on the spot. Their frowns are fierce and their pale-yellow eyes hard, their plumage un-ironed. To intimidate you, they might even hunch up and heads lowered, hop threateningly towards you, the feathers on their backs all ruffled up to make them look more fearsome. If you are foolish enough to let a cat into the garden, all hell will break loose as the whole gang breaks out into raucous, 120-decibel catcalling, with the birds even mobbing the feline while beckoning backup from all and sundry. 

These days, the local posse has taken to hammering on my bedroom-balcony glass door, demanding to be let in so they can carry out searches inside. But alas, when I get up to comply, they suddenly decide that their orders have been revoked and fly off in that ridiculous fluttery, flap-glide manner which predicates a potential crash landing. (They manage to land safely enough!) Of course, what they were really doing was challenging their reflections in the glass, which they took to be interlopers in their territory. What’s astonishing is that they might do this three times a day and never learn from the experience.

So what’s so appealing about these bad-tempered, loud-voiced, dishevelled little brown thugs? The fact that among themselves, they’re huge softies. They seem to like nothing better than to squish together on a branch and gently plunge their beaks into their neighbour’s plumage, tenderly sorting and sifting through feathers (allopreening) while the beneficiary of this exquisite massage rolls its eyes in bliss and scowls ferociously at the same time. That apart, their family life is wonderful too. Jungle babblers nest in the spring, summer, and monsoon (as do most clan members), and even and even while doing so, the gang stays together. The parenting couple will build a neat nest in low bushes or trees and leave the group when the babies need TLC. Both sexes attend to all duties — with other group members joining in. Baby babblers (about three or four in a clutch) you can well imagine must be thoroughly spoilt — being fed and mollycoddled by six or seven doting aunties and uncles. The adults (this tendency runs in the entire clan) will also host the hulking babies of pied cuckoos and common-hawk cuckoos foisted upon them, who give them the willies when they rear up demanding they be fed looking like raptors. Once they settle back into the nest, it’s all sweetness and light again. Jungle babblers can be found in gardens, scrub jungles, and deciduous forests all over the country. They are called “saat-bhai” in Hindi, which mysteriously becomes “seven sisters” in English.

A close cousin of the jungle babbler is the large-grey babbler (Turdoides malcolmi) which is a little larger, greyer, and has a more upright posture and harsh yellow eyes. It has white ash markings on its forehead and a white border on its tail feathers. When excited, the group emits a deafening “kay-kay-kay-kay” chorus that goes on and on. Usually found in the company of jungle babblers, the group will fiercely come to the defence of a member in trouble. They prefer feeding on the ground and are loathe to fly. Like their cousins, they nest communally, though the nest itself is an untidy affair set up a few metres high in bushes and trees.

The slender common babbler (Turdoides caudata) is about bulbul-sized, heavily streaked in dark brown on top, with white throat and cream underside, and the trademark loosely attached tail. It bounces along on the ground or between twigs in the company of the “sisterhood”, flicking its wings from side to side if nervous, peering and jeering at the “enemy” troubling them. Unlike the two above, it has a pleasant trilling call (which used to excite my dog no end), and its nest is a neat, clean structure. It often hunts insects by leaping up after them from the top of a canopy branch. Personally, I find the common babbler is not nearly as common as its name suggests — the one frequenting my garden has long disappeared. 

The striated babbler (Turdoides earlei), also about bulbul-sized, is grey-brown and has a heavily streaked head and back. It prefers reed infested swampy areas adjoining grand rivers, like the Yamuna, where it swings on reeds and elephant grass. Like its compatriots, it keeps in groups, flying in tandem from one perch to the next, in the usual uncertain manner of its family.

Perhaps the most elegant babbler on my list is the yellow-eyed babbler (Chrysomma sinense). A little smaller than the bulbul, it is rufous-brown on top with cinnamon wings. While the eye is yellow, there’s a more conspicuous orange-red rim around it which can be puzzling (given its name!) and makes the bird appear as though it has just been crying its eyes out. It likes the environs of scrub jungles, sugarcane fields, hedges, and tall grass to which it clings sideways and sometimes upside down. It is a somewhat elusive bird with a loud and clear whistling call, and its nest is a beautiful deep cup made of grass.

As we have seen, the members of this clan have certain characteristics in common: They love their own company, are reluctant flyers, get royally cuckolded, are residents and live all over the country, dress drably, and breed in summer. And ever excitable, they love nothing more than to make an unholy ruckus in the best traditions of any flourishing democracy.