The flight of eyes
- Anand G
- May 5
- 5 min read
The substantial time when you look up at the sky has been usurped by birds, besides the urge for gazing at moving clouds, and the spectacular movements of the moon and sun, and further, the stationary stars. By and large, we ignore all the invitations towards sky events. When was the last time we looked at the sky - our necks lifted for a fleeting moment, our eyes swayed into the emptiness of the vast sky?
If not for birds, we never had any reason to look at the sky. If not for trills and croaks, there is no special reason for us to raise our heads looking for peculiar sounds; our ears dulled with meows and barks, hisses and roars. From keeping an acute focus on exam papers, to sharp aims at goalposts, to anxiously attached yet wasted scrolls on phones, to passionate gazes at our loved ones, to dutiful observation while driving, to steady attention at computers at work, to constant stares at a neighbor’s new car, there have been so many deterrents that minimize our looking up at the sky.
However, birds are the only inviters to the sky: first, they make us look at trees; then, the nerves in our neck stretch a little to follow them to the twigs at the top; and further above, to the white and blue openness of the sky, making us witness the endless, limitless structure above. If not for birds, the sky has no meaning - its very purpose gets questioned, akin to doubting the value of deserts without sand dunes
Birds are our ‘neck lifters’; they educated us about the skies, opened our wisdom beyond the clouds, and kindled our curiosity : how the sky remains childless at night, how it leads our gaze further into the stars, constellations, and the idea that our universe was born. I am afraid of a world without birds, as there would be nothing to inspire us, nothing is special with flightless beings. Without birds, perhaps we would not have learned to navigate, cherished forests as homes, or even dreamed of flight through machines. We or our primitive forms might have lived lives like those on Mars: a desert existence, with no poetic biological evolution, unlike what we are today.
Birds are at least 150 million (over 15 crore) years older than us. They are the last surviving beings of the dinosaur lineage - not exactly dinosaurs themselves, but their evolution is deeply rooted in them. Remnants such as three-fingered legs, hollow bones, teeth and claws, bony tails, and certain vocal characteristics all trace back to dinosaurs. These survival traits carried forward into bird forms after the mass extinction caused by the Chicxulub impact and the Deccan Traps, which occurred between 66 and 70 million years ago. While the classical dinosaurs vanished, birds survived- offering us elegant, friendly, less bloodthirsty, yet stunning creatures to behold.
We often imagine birds to be vast in number, making it difficult to relate to or identify them. Humans lose interest in birds or at least find them esoteric with their names and types. Except for crows, chickens, eagles, and sparrows, we rarely form a wise understanding of birds. Many birds, as we assume, are captivating to look at, difficult to touch, and hard to recognize again.
Raptor birds such as eagles, hawks, falcons, and vultures are hunters with sharp talons and hooked beaks. They inspired us to fly, to hunt, and to move with dexterity.
Type two - Pigeons and doves, in contrast, are gentle birds that often fuel our imaginations about love.
The third type is waterfowl - ducks, geese, swans - known for their webbed feet and strong swimming. These birds taught us that living in two worlds is possible, or even three: water, land, and, for a fleeting time, sky.
Next come the songbirds, also known as perching birds or passerines. Crows belong here, as do sparrows, robins, finches, and warblers. They taught us how to attract one another, and the power of ostentation through song. If not from songbirds, I reckon humans may never have developed a taste or even an intent for music.
Fifth, we have penguins, flightless ocean swimmers. They taught us how to live in extreme conditions.
Sixth are the fowl birds: chickens, turkeys, quails, pheasants that are ground-dwelling and often devoured for taste. These birds offered themselves through sacrifice to appease our taste buds.
Seventh, parrots - like cockatoos, macaws, parakeets - appear in flamboyant colors and excel in mimicry. Humans are closely affectionate with these birds; they taught us how to mimic sound, movement, even patterns.
Eighth are shorebirds and waders - sandpipers, storks, herons, flamingos - who live along coastlands with long legs and beaks. Their presence, or absence, shaped our curiosity and knowledge of seafaring.
Ninth are the flightless birds, or ratites: ostriches, emus, kiwis, cassowaries. These taught us how to secure strength on land, with robust legs and sharp intelligence, even when the very essence of being a bird in which the flight is lost.
Tenth, and perhaps the most exciting, are night birds: owls, nightjars, frogmouths. They shaped our understanding of the night world and helped us see a little of this darkness.
Finally, cuckoo birds like roadrunners have influenced our views on social structures They disturb our understanding of belonging and inheritance. In them, we see a story of imposters, of outsiders who flourish, and of systems that never quite notice
I would love to write endlessly about birds, geology, and humans. The trinity of these three has a vital impact on shaping what we see today on Earth, where humans are the observers, geology is the stark reasoner, and birds are the mere actors. This triadic network is vast, complex, and potentially opens the greatest wisdom ever to be attained - a kind of wisdom that even God, if He exists, would hurriedly copy and ungainly gorge for Himself, just to satiate His desire for ownership.
My next essay will be a melodramatic one, coupling the trinity with one of the most exotic imaginings and fictional creations, an exploration of the relationship between humans, Earth, and birds. I rest my fingers here and begin to resume my thoughts toward it
Anand ¥¥
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