Cosy Colonies of Wondrous, Wily Weavers

Only four of the 57 species of weaverbirds found in the Old World live in India. Of these, the baya weaver (Ploceus philippinus) is by far the most famous (and notorious). This species is more recognisable — especially in the monsoon — by its beautiful pendulous vase-like nest. Drive along a canal, paddy fields, or lake nearly anywhere in the Indian countryside as the monsoon breaks, and you are likely to come across their lovely green or straw-coloured nests hanging from trees (usually over water). They live in colonies ranging from 5-6 units to teeming ones that maybe 200 strong.

The baya and its cousins, the black-breasted weaver (Ploceus benghalensis), streaked weaver (Ploceus manyar), and the globally threatened Finn’s weaver (Ploceus megarhynchus), are all sparrow-sized (around 15 cm) finch-like birds, living and roosting in large, noisy colonies. In the breeding season, commencing with the monsoons, the gents have bright fog-lamp yellow heads and light-and-dark brown heavily streaked bodies, with minor differences. They subsist on a diet of grass, cereals, seeds (jowar, maize, rice etc.), insects, and nectar, and so are not exactly popular with farmers because of their depredations in fields of ripening crops. Farmers do not give them credit for the enormous pest-control services they render but often take down their nests en masse, eggs, chicks, and all. 

Salim Ali did pioneering work on the baya, and his meticulous observations and notes are a lesson in scientific and literary writing. The love life and family life of the baya is quite something. By around April, parties of males, splendidly clad in sunflower-yellow heads and chocolate-streaked bodies, excitedly descend on a suitable location for a colony; this is usually trees near a waterbody or even down a well if there is a plant or a tree (like a peepul) growing out of its walls. The surrounding paddy fields, sugarcane plantations, or even palm trees are raided, their leaves torn into thin strips, so nest-building can proceed. Using just their bills and feet, the birds attach the “stub” of their nest to a suitable branch (usually overhanging on the water). Using intricate knots, they begin weaving strands of grass and leaves to form the long neck and body of the nest, with the entrance facing downwards. There is much excitement and the occasional pilfering of nesting material from neighbours. A “chinstrap” is constructed across the entrance, and once the “dome” or “helmet” is nearly complete, the gentlemen eagerly look forward to the arrival of what you could call the equivalent of the weavers’ “fishing fleet”! A bevy of chattering ladies shows up, and the gentlemen frantically flutter onto the domes of their nests, whirr their wings, and loudly sing in chorus, no doubt extolling the virtues of their residences. The ladies are equally keen to find a home and will fight each other over rights to inspect a particular residence. But they are no pushovers. A lady will inspect the nest, and if it doesn’t meet her approval (no central air-conditioning, for instance), she will move on, leaving the architect distraught enough to destroy his edifice and start over. But if the lady approves, she will signal her acceptance by perching on the “chinstrap” where the wedding will be consummated. She then proceeds with the interior decoration, lining the egg chamber with soft material and laying two or three eggs. The mother incubates the eggs and feeds the young until they leave home in a fortnight or so.

On occasion, fully-built nests have been found to be “cut down” even while containing eggs — the work, it is suspected, of jealous rival villains whose residences were rejected over those that were not.

Once his bride is safely ensconced and sitting on eggs, the husband starts building another nest nearby to woo a second bride. A gentleman with talent and vigour may even build a third and fourth nest, each with its own lady and family. There are also usually several half-built nests in a colony — and no, these are not “man-caves” where the gents retire at night to drink and gamble; they are just failed attempts. The gentlemen, in fact, fly away in flocks to roost in trees or reed beds together at night. The flocking instinct is so strong among weavers that when the breeding season draws to a close, the entire colony ups and leaves, abandoning late-hatching chicks, which starve to death.

The black-breasted and streaked weavers build nests similar to the baya except that their “domes” are firmly attached to reed stalks, and the entrance funnel is not as long. The Finn’s weavers build an untidy football-like nest out of grass and leaves, in the canopies of trees, or attach them to reed stalks in standing water. Back in 1959, Salim Ali and his team discovered these birds were not as uncommon as previously thought — at least in the Nainital district they were surveying.  

Black-breasted weavers (in breeding regalia) have bright yellow heads and a broad black band across their breasts. They’re found around reedy marshes and tall, damp grasslands in the Indo-Gangetic plains and are endemic to the sub-continent.

Streaked weavers (in breeding) have golden crowns, heavily streaked breasts and flanks and also like to hang around reed beds. They may be neighbours of black-breasted weavers and are found throughout the subcontinent.

The uncommon Finn’s weaver has a sunflower-yellow head, dark brown ear coverts and a yellow rump; the mantle and back are heavily streaked in dark brown. It is endemic to India and Nepal and is now considered globally threatened.

While one might disapprove of the marital habits of the weavers, one cannot help but be awestruck by their talent. Try weaving anything out of grass and strips of leaves, using only your feet and your mouth, and you’ll get the idea!

Our local weavers have many relatives in Africa. Some of them build humongous multi-apartment condominiums spanning the canopies of trees, which are good for the security of individual families (less chance of being predation). But they are a colossal fire risk during thunderstorms; a lightning strike can set ablaze the whole colony.

In India, old weaverbirds’ nests are often collected and sold as artefacts. Admire the handiwork, hang it up in your home or garden, but don’t install a bulb inside it to use as a lamp!