It was a sultry Sunday morning, and I woke up lazily, largely due to the efforts of the summer sun. Bleary-eyed, I walked out to my small lawn to breathe in some freshness. My attention was captured by the screeching of a dozen or so birds of carrion. It was the first time I had seen such a congregation of vultures within the precincts of my house.
Straining my eyes, I could make out in the distance, amongst the grass, the reason for their presence — a dead animal. I glanced sideways and found a few more of these massive birds sitting on a parapet wall, while others perched aloft a Peepul tree, flapping their wings and emitting sharp shrieks.
I noticed more and more birds gathering from different directions. I looked up and observed these scavengers soaring to zero in on their target. Meanwhile, a pack of Pariah dogs scampered across the brush. I wondered as to their destination, especially as they could not see what was attracting the soaring scavengers. To my surprise, they went straight where their instincts led them. By now, there was a multitude of vultures and canines, all partaking of their breakfast.
I paused and marvelled at Nature’s communication. I felt it was perfect. All those who were available to feast on the dead animal received a message, and they came. The signal was not distorted, nor was there discrimination on the basis of rich or poor, white or black feathers, or extrinsic factors such as looks, caste, or status.
I wondered: if these creatures, who live by the raw law of survival, can communicate without distortion, why can’t we?
Authors Footnote: These observations were recorded in Alwar in 1986. Looking back from 2026, the “perfect communication” I witnessed feels even more precious, as the great birds of that morning are now rarely seen in the places they once gathered.
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