Birdseed for the pigeons

I just returned from our long trip to Mumbai, India. This time my daughter thoroughly enjoyed the visits to a local duck pond where we could for a small amount take a ride in a small paddle boat and feed the ducks in the pond. The ducks were extremely used to people doing this everyday and did not shy away at all. They were scary. I thought so anyway. My daughter had the best time each visit. Unfortunately we could not bring bread from home. It had to be bought from the ticket office. And even more unfortunately it was dispensed in these little plastic baggies that were thrown away later. Depending on which grandparent was accomapanying Sara and how badly she wanted to feed the ducks, we bought anywhere from 4-8 bags of bread pieces. The fish consumed the bread as well. Much to my surprise. And they were ferocious, not giving the slightest chance to the slow turtles in the water.

Some days we fed the cows with a bunch of grass or grain laddoos made by the person who owned the cow. It is quite amazing how much a child learns from observation. Sara can imitate how a cow eats grass extremely well. She learnt about color and how to interact with various animals and birds due to this encounter. She also made it a point to ask for a boiled egg each day and eat the white of it while keeping the yellow for the crow that paid us a visit each morning.

Then she frequented the bird seed guy who sat outside a Jain temple and sold measures of birdseed for the looming flock of grey, white and mixed pigeons and some sparrows. This was given in a plastic bowl that you were to return to the vendor once you were done feeding the birds. This group seemed to again behave like the entitled lot. They barely twitched when people approached them. And knew the feed was for them.

My memories of feeding the pigeons are of throwing exactly a fistful of bajra (pearl millet) to an anxious group of pigeons on our terrace each morning. This was packed in a piece of reused paper that my grandmother again recycled each day. I remember so distinctly the little cabinet in the kitchen which had the jar of the bajra (pearl millet) and pieces of folded paper. She also cut out and cleaned the plastic bags that milk was delivered in each day. So if she needed to send something that needed a plastic bag, she had those ready.

Then it seemed like such a bother that she carefully gathered all plastic and keep what could have been used. Now it makes sense.