Cuckoos in folklore are known as weatherbirds. And in most continents they are known as “rainbirds” or ‘stormbirds” because they call incessantly early in the rainy season. Koels, being cuckoos, are similarly known as rain- or stormbirds.

The call of the koel and the coming rain may be coincidental. In Queensland, with the coming of summer, so does the rain. This is also the time when the Asian Koel (Eudynamys scolopacea) starts calling day and night. But the bird calls only because it is the breeding season, not because of the coming rain.

In my area koel is commonly heard mostly between mid-October to February, after which it can be heard only occasionally.

Three times within the last two weeks I heard the call of the koel just before and during rain. The first time was during a light drizzle in the late afternoon; then during a heavier drizzle in the evening. In this latter case the bird was taking shelter in a nearby tree. The third time it called just as lightning was flashing and thunder was rolling. The rain was just beginning to fall. But once it started to rain, the bird was quiet.

Then this afternoon, when it was raining not too heavily, a male Asian Koel suddenly flew into my terap tree (Artocarpus odoratissimus). The leaves are large and they provide ample shelter against the rain. The koel belted out a few calls that attracted my attention. The moment I took a look, it stopped calling. It must have seen me first. Then I caught a glimpse of it moving to another branch. After this I could not locate it but it was definitely there.

As the bird was calling koel-koel-kole, the rain fell heavier. Then came the thunder and the lightning. And then the call stopped.

Now, is all these also coincidental? Is there any connection between the call of the koel and rain? The problem is that the bird also calls when there is no rain. But then, when it rains, you do not hear the calls of other birds.

Or do you?

On 24th March 2007 Alex Koh had an exciting encounter around the block where he lived in Serangoon. He was walking when he saw something fell with a loud thud on the tarmac floor near him. It was a bird. On closer look he thought it was an eagle. But it was a Black Baza (Aviceda leuphotes).

The bird was lying helpless on the ground. Alex picked the bird up and noticed blood flowing from its nostrils. There were about half a dozen crows flying above, so he suspected that the crows must have attacked it.

He brought the injured bird home and cleaned blood aroound its face by gently spraying the head area with water. The bird would not allow anyone to touch it, pecking whoever tied to do so. It kept a close watch of Alex’s hands but when a stick was brought towards its beak it did not react at all.

The bird was put in a cage and fed with crickets (left). But it refused to eat or drink. Covering the cage with a piece of cloth and putting a packet of crickets next to it somehow calmed it and it slept through the night.

Two days later the baza appeared to have recovered but still weak. It opened its beak slightly when approached. On the afternoon of the third day it was brought to Simpang in its cage. There, the door was opened and after a short while the bird got out and flew to the nearby patch of vegetation (right).

It was still weak but could manage a short low flight. It landed on the ground but soon managed to get on a shrub and looked back at its rescuers. It then looked up and surveyed its surroundings.

There above, was a crow chasing a buzzard (below). Apprehensive of the danger from the crow, it needed some persuasion from those who were there to witness its release before it flew into a patch of secondary growth.

The Black Baza is a winter visitor. Hopefully it survives its ordeal to join the others in their migration north.

Input and images by Alex Koh.

I was in the garden a few mornings ago when suddenly there was a series of loud chatters coming from next door. A pair of Olive-backed Sunbirds (Cinnyris jugularis, formerly Nectarinia jugularis) that had just landed in the bougainvillea bush were making the ruckus.

These birds normally arrive in pairs or in a small group, darting in and out of the foliage rather rapidly. They seldom remained in one spot for long. And all the time the constant loud tweet-tweet-tweet that announces their presence. Normally I would simply ignore them as they are not easy to locate among the foliage and once located, they would invariably move on.

But not this time. I spotted a male with his metallic blue chest slightly puffed up, perching on a branch. The two feet were firmly clutching the branch but the body was in constant motion. First he turned to the right, then to the left and to the right again. This went on and on and all the time he was calling loudly, his bill opened and pointing upwards. Once in a while he straightened his body, with his head and bill pointing skyward.

Then he moved to a nearby branch and continued the ritual. Suddenly he crouched, spread his wings low down and quivered them for a short while, again all the time calling loudly. The female was nearby watching but did not come close.

Then all of a sudden he darted off the bush, not to another tree but to the far beyond. And just as suddenly his mate followed.

Quiet returned.

While prospecting new birding sites for material opportunities to substantiate bird article writings, I came across a Malaysian kampong (village) in a rural area. It supports a small Malay community with traditional values, living the comforts of 20th Century semi-concrete jungles (left).

It was a delight to see a substantial species of healthy birds. Fruits and flowering trees abound and the environment provides a peaceful, safe haven for avian breeding. However, there was something strange about this village. My bird checklist shows the absence of two bird species that should and would normally be seen commonly in the wild, and in my part of the world - Malaysia.

The Spotted Dove (Streptopelia chinensis) was no where to be seen (above left). Neither was smaller cousin, Zebra or Peaceful Dove (Geopelia striata) (above right).

Strolling further along the village path, I stumbled into what I would describe to be a small colony of feathered friends. It looked like all the Spotted and Peaceful Doves of the village have been rounded up to form a nuclear family - an ‘Alcatraz’ of spots and stripes to placate the human joy of keeping birds as house pets.

Let’s visit Spotty, the Spotted Dove and Zee the Peaceful Dove and be introduced to their inmates and listen to their conversation, to know what their avian world is like - to be restrained and caged (right).

“I’m bored, I’m bored!” cooed Spotty, swaying repeatedly from his opened Cell 102, of rattan and wood, suspended under the canopy of a matured, flowering star fruit (Averrhoa carambola) tree.

A reply came from Spotty’s closest neighbour Zee, also known as Zebra Dove from her rectangular Cell 101 (below left).

“Well, at least your cell is open-air and gives a feel of ‘freedom come’. Mine…? A wired looking coffin, I’ve resigned my fate too.”

“Besides, I have no cause to complain as our guardians top up our grain pots and we never have to worry nor go hungry. See? I’ve got two varieties of potted grains and a water tub. Erh…. a bit green, but ‘ok’ I suppose…” (above right).

Just then, the conversation was interrupted by rattling sounds coming from Cell 103. The owner, mad George Jr. - the adolescent Peaceful Dove was rattling his cage (left top). “I must fly! I must fly!” squeaked George Jr., flying restlessly in circles inside his rectangular cage and sheltered by a roof of recycled zinc sheet (left middle).

“I wanna be a man! I wanna be a man!” sang George Jr., standing up like a man and continued his frenzy, flying act (left bottom).

George Jr. reminded me of my youth days when the big circus claiming to be ‘The Greatest Show on Earth’ came to town. One of the highlights was the ‘Flying cycles’.

A giant, hollow, rattan ball inside the enormous tent top was set up. The organisers had two motorbikes inside the ball. Two hell riders were sent into it and had them flying in circles, criss-crossing each other in their roaring machines, in deafening super speed.

Ah… I imagined those riders who took up such dare devilled assignments, must have in time, succumbed to brain death prior to collapsing into their coffins!

“That’s just George Jr. gone mad. Poor chap! Consumed by excessive levels of testosterone.” remarked Spotty in mid conversation.

He rolled his eyes at George Jr. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a new inmate’s cage under the next tree.

“And who are you, young child? How did you end up here?” asked Spotty.

“I am Pickle, the juvenile Zebra Dove.”

“I flew into a trap set underground and had my feet caught on those fish nettings. I thought I heard Mom calling me for breakfast. The next thing I knew, I was picked up by a pair of walking trousers who untangled me and brought me here,” she explained.

“Now, I don’t have to look for my food in the wild anymore nor be afraid of predators who hunt me down for their supper. It’s kind of good life here, like staying in a 4-star hotel room that comes with cleaning services and a room number too,” the naïve juvenile added (right).

“Ha! You mean Cell 104?” retorted Knobby, the Spotted Dove. Take a look at my left ankle. I’ve been shackled to this darn circular, see-through rattan dish labelled, ‘Cell 105’ and assigned sentry duties for life” (left).

“I get parked here in the dark, front-corner door entrance. I earn my keep having to look left, look front, look right and right again. It’s a twenty-four, seven job. I’ve lost my will to take on the ‘Great Escape’. Just get fat, perching and looking,” sighed Knobby (below).

“Well, at least you’re not looking like a pathetic candidate staggering out from ‘Schindler’s List.’ cooed a voice in unison from Cell 106. It was Herman and Hilda, a pair of Peaceful Doves housed in a large, metal cage roofed with an empty, polythene rice bag.

They were very much resigned to their cell even though their drinking vessel remained unchanged and greened with algae (below left).

“You haven’t got that Hulky feeling yet, you guys?” chirped Ernie, the lonely Peaceful Dove from his rotunda Cell 107 (below right).

“Oh, you saucy little fella! Just leave them alone.” came a deep voice from Cell 108.

“I know you…” the voice said.

“Ha! You were that ‘lover boy’. The one, who fell straight into a racket trap when those trappers strung Suzie up a bamboo pole to coo for a lover!” announced Liberace, the flamboyant Spotted Dove (below).

“Ok, ok you can’t keep secrets can you?” Ernie felt revealed.

“Now you know mine, how about you telling your secrets of how you got here, handsome boy? Surely it’s got to do with your good looks. Come on…… tell, tell!” coaxed Ernie.

Liberace just could not resist displaying his vanity. With his ‘diamond studded’ spots and matching furry, feathered coat, he was too keen to pose for photographers - those that came with huge bazooka-looking lens. They decided it was fun to flash the daylights out of him.

“The humiliating part was that those weirdoes with two walking legs were carrying three more skinny legs. Men and women turning into talking birds were walking up and down the lane, cooing from a machine planted in the palm of their hands, sending out sweet nothing. I was curious to see who those freaks were and responded to their call. I was desperate for a duet. To ‘add salt to my wounds’, they left hurriedly after their shoot, paid me nothing for all those fine adornment!” lamented the songbird.

“A bird trapper watched the performances. He decided to string up a mist net to get me for free too! I felt cheated and so ashamed. And to end my life, what the heck, I made a suicidal dash flight into the net” he added.

“I did not die… but found myself ended up in a pet shop, sold for fifty bucks!” he said tearfully.

“Oh! So sad… and I am sorry to hear that,” cooed Ernie, softly.

Every inmate in the colony went quiet and understood why Liberace’s cooing was always a melancholy tune - ‘wu-bwrroo…wu-bwrroo’.

A desperate guttural ‘coo’ yearned to be heard from the far end of the owner’s house. It was from CELL 109, George Sr. the Spotted Dove.

He has gone a bit hard of hearing; always having his back turned and looking towards the sunset. But, still has a little spunk left to squawk out his last three worded vocabulary repeatedly, day in, day out.

“Al dam bastards! Al dam bastards!” (left).

This last paragraph concludes to spare a thought for birds in captivity. It is a review of bird pet ownership and how caring birders and bird-photographers can further contribute to protection and ‘cushion’ birds in the wild.

At time of writing, the Spotted Dove and Peaceful Dove were not yet enlisted in the defunct, outdated ‘Protection of Wildlife Act 1972 of Malaysia.’

All images presented are mainly derived from digiscopy. Flash photography preferred not used.

SUBMITTED BY DAISY O’NEILL (Avian Writer), PENANG, MALAYSIA.

Sunbirds exhibit sexual dimorphism. The males are usually colourful with their dazzling iridescent plumages while the females are generally drab looking and lack any striking patterns.

The male of the Crimson Sunbird (Aethopyga siparaja) is a spectacular looking bird with its bright red mantle (left top). Although a smallish bird, whenever it appears, it immediately draws attention to its presence. Similarly, the Brown-throated Sunbird (Anthreptes malacensis) is just as spectacular and colourful, especially when the light strikes it at the right direction (left bottom). The females of both species cannot boast about their looks. Both are ordinary looking, their plumages dull olive-green or yellow.

But wait, there is the so-called male eclipse phase for certain species. The plumage of this intermediate phase is not as spectacular as the breeding plumage but it is distinctly different from the female plumage.

Take the Olive-backed Sunbird (Cinnyris jugularis) as an example. The male (below top) is not as spectacular as the other two, but compared to the female (below middle), is just as attractive. The male eclipse is at the bottom of the three images below.

The presence of male eclipse phases can be terribly confusing to newcomers but experienced birders generally take them for granted. Now how does the male eclipse comes about? Through moulting of course. After the breeding season the male moults its colourful plumage and take on a less attractive eclipse dress. Once the next breeding season comes, he will again take on his colourful plumage.

There have been much research on the African sunbird species and it is known that there are three groups in terms of moulting regimes of male sunbirds.

1. The chick sheds its juvenal plumage and takes on an intermediate immature plumage, to be followed by a breeding plumage once the breeding season sets in. There is no eclipse phase.

2. There is no immature and eclipse plumages. The bird moults from juvenal to breeding plumage and from one breeding plumage to another.

3. There is no intermediate immature plumage. The bird moults from juvenal to breeding plumage but it has an eclipse phase between one breeding season to the other.

As far as our regional sunbirds are concerned, we only know that there is an eclipse phase in certain species. I am not sure whether there are any observations on intermediate immature plumage of our species.

Can any experienced birders or ornithologists comment on the above?

Images by YC except Brown-throated Sunbird by Johnny Wee.