Adarsh Gardens always seems to be buzzing with some activity – the community get-togethers, some or the other civil work, the children playing around, Infosys employees moving in and out (sometimes in droves), and a myriad other things. Vying for attention amidst all these are the fascinating fauna of the complex! I had written an article about the various animals, birds, reptiles and insects found in our surroundings almost 10 years ago: while this population of ‘residents’ has remained almost the same, the interaction with them never ceases to amaze me. Of these moments, two incidents are such that they will remain indelibly etched in my memory and could provide enough drama and adventure that a raconteur would proudly narrate to an audience.
The heightened monkey menace a few years ago prompted the closure of the utility area in our house with a grill, and subsequently with glass shutters to keep the squirrels out. As I have mentioned before, these squirrels are not as cute and furry as they look and can be quite feisty and perseverant. Sometime later, we installed an electric chimney, for which the glass had to be cut to insert the exhaust pipe. This pipe has a small cap sort of structure at its end for the fumes to exit, and is positioned outside the glass. One fine Saturday, I casually happened to glance up at the pipe and noticed some tufts of brown, hair-like material sticking out of it. On looking closer, I found that the material extended quite some way inward from the end, and was so densely packed that the pipe had to be detached to remove it completely. Initially, we were unable to figure out what the material was; later the realization dawned that it could most likely be a squirrel nest, as we had once seen such material in the bathroom above the false ceiling, with loud chirps having been heard the week before. A segment of the chimney pipe’s cap had also been gnawed through. After recording an image of the nest for posterity, it was disposed of and we were relieved that that was the end of the matter. Or so we thought, as the events that unraveled would show that it was a premature conclusion.
A few hours later, a shrieking, chirping sound could be heard from the utility. I rushed to investigate, guessing that it must be the squirrel that had come back to its nest. As I came closer, it went into the cap opening and entered the pipe! For a moment, I was dumbfounded, and did not know what to do. I called out my parents and before they could arrive, the squirrel exited the pipe. Reacting instinctively, I closed off the pipe opening with some wire mesh to ensure the squirrel could not go back in. As the squirrel came and went, repeatedly but futilely trying to gnaw its way through the mesh, I felt a pang of guilt for having removed the nest. The squirrel continued to attempt to enter the pipe throughout the day relentlessly, and I had to drive it away several times. I wondered why it was so desperate to do so. Sunlight faded away quickly as dusk approached, and the squirrel was nowhere to be seen now. I had become weary by the events of the day, and just when it seemed everything had settled down, another high-pitched shriek resounded through the house, sending a tingling sensation down my spine. There was no squirrel outside the pipe opening, so the sound was definitely coming from somewhere else. It took a few more shrieks to pinpoint the origin of the sound – it was from within the chimney! How had the squirrel gotten inside? I had religiously guarded the entrance to the pipe and was absolutely sure it had not gotten in under my nose. I removed the mesh covering the exit to the pipe, hoping that the squirrel would go away on its own. When the sounds stopped a little while later, I presumed it had indeed figured how to get out. The sound started again next morning. Perturbed, we called the chimney service centre to find out if they could help. A service person finally turned up after several calls were made and some stern language used, explaining the gravity of the situation. He casually said that he would need to detach the main chimney unit and take it to the centre as only an expert could deal with the issue. We reluctantly agreed, and he said someone would come later in the afternoon. Day turned to night and nobody came. The callous attitude of the service centre was truly deplorable. The stricken animal continued its plea for help, but we were helpless.
I left for work as usual the next day and thought little of the problem. Upon returning in the evening, I enquired with my mother if the sounds had stopped. She said there had been sporadic periods of shrieks, but otherwise not as much sound as on the previous days. The other squirrel had continued to pay visits to the pipe entrance throughout the day. I now realized that it must be the parent, and the one inside the chimney must be an infant or a juvenile. In my haste to clear the nest, I had failed to check if there was a squirrel already in the pipe, which must have panicked and gone deeper into the chimney duct when I pulled the nest out. I decided to pull out the chimney filter plates to see if anything was visible. But the sound was coming from within the motor unit, and that’s when the plight of the squirrel became truly apparent. It had fallen into the chimney and gotten trapped. Covered in grease and grime, and unable to find its way out, the poor squirrel had cried itself hoarse but to no avail. Unable to bear this state of affairs, I decided to open the chimney motor unit myself. The housing was very heavy and the limited space made it difficult to manoeuvre the motor end plate. I cautiously removed all but one of the screws and peered into the cavity using a torch light. The angle made it hard to see but after craning my neck, I caught a faint glimpse of the rodent. It was quite small; no wonder then it had been unable to escape. With the help of my mother, I was somehow able to coax the animal to jump into a bag whose mouth I had held close to the motor unit opening. I rushed down barefoot to the garden and released the squirrel. It was breathing heavily, and its normally bushy tail was completely covered in grease and had become shrivelled, resembling that of a mouse. I immediately went back up and got some water to wash the squirrel, and it ran away into the bushes, leaving me unsure whether it would survive.
In hindsight, I think I called the wrong type of centre; I should have called animal rescue instead, and perhaps not attempted to rescue the squirrel myself. Anyway, a few days later, I heard a recognizable shriek from the utility. The squirrel that had announced itself looked vaguely familiar, with a stumpy tail. It looked at me for an instant and then quickly moved on. I wondered if it was the same one I had saved; it was as if it had come back to thank me. We haven’t seen that squirrel since.
The second incident occurred fairly recently; it was also freakish, though not of the same scale. While I was going down the stairs for an early morning walk, I noticed a lone pigeon below one of the windows, pecking at some food somebody had thrown there rather carelessly. The pigeon, initially startled, resumed eating before I had even passed by. I was surprised to find it still there when I returned about half an hour later. This time though, it started walking away as soon as I came close, and proceeded to climb up the steps. Notorious for not flying unless absolutely needed, I thought nothing of this behaviour and waited for it to continue climbing. I even goaded it up the remaining couple of steps, naively assuming that it would fly towards the passageway upon reaching the landing. To my shock and horror, it quickly turned right and into our house! Incidentally (and conveniently for the pigeon), the main door was slightly ajar, perhaps due to the wind from the open balcony. By the time I screamed “Pigeon!” and had sounded the alert, it had quickly reached the pooja (prayer) room and was about to enter it. Seizing upon a moment of ambivalence shown by the pigeon, I somehow caught hold of its tail feathers and dashed outside and released it there. I waited to see if it was injured and couldn’t fly; as expected, it had just been lazy all along and took off a moment later. I heaved a massive sigh of relief as I shuddered at the thought of the damage a flying bird could have caused in the house!