The Little Green Mittoo Mias

In my growing years, as dusk settled in the Doon Valley and the light became mellow, endless flocks of rose-ringed parakeets would head south, little green squawking missiles in the sky, conversing with each other even in flight. They nested in the hollow of trees, and unscrupulous trappers would catch the fledglings, put them in cages and once their feathers had grown, they were sold for a handful of rupees. A prize ‘parrot’ was the one who could mimic a few words, and though they were pampered and loved, they were condemned to live in wire-mesh cages for their entire life.

The rose-ringed parakeet (Psittacula krameri), invariably called ‘Mittoo’, was the most common species. In some households, one could find their larger cousin, the Alexandrian (Psittacula eupatria), and sometimes the blossom-headed species (Psittacula roseata), or even the slaty-headed (Psittacula himalayana) version. The day my grandmother died, I remember buying a dozen parakeets from a vendor on a bicycle and setting them free… 

Both the Alexandrian and the rose-ring have been attracted to the wisteria (Wisteria Sinensis) that has made the host weeping willow (Salix babylonica) its shackled partner. The day the flowers began to bloom, the parakeets arrived… now from dawn to dusk they are at it, eating, eating and eating. As a result the ground is littered with flower petals. Wish these ‘Mittoos’ blue-skies and safe landings wherever their fancy takes them next. ‘Who else has seen the rainbow’s end… The real reason why birds sing… Because they fly… They envy no man!’

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