There are more than enough human loudmouths, all over the world, especially in political dispensations, but the animal kingdom, too, has its cacophonic contributors which may make you reach for industrial strength earplugs. Birds seem to do particularly well in this department. It’s no surprise really, that one of the loudest and most plangent, is our national bird, the peacock. Its shrieking ‘may-yew, may-yew’ screams rent the air like nothing else, making you wince. And when they decide (especially during the breeding season in the monsoon) to do it in chorus, there’s no option but to cover your ears and flee. The peacocks that live in the cemetery next to my house, also have a liking for shrieking together at around 3 am, making you wonder whether the ghosts living there have just returned from a drunken soiree at the ‘Shakin’ Bones’ nightclub. In the forests, of course, the peacocks shrieking serve as early warning signals to other animals that a predator is on the hunt. Weighing in at under 10 gm, the tiny-tot tailorbird and its cousin, the plain prinia, produce calls of around 80 decibels, which is huge, considering their size and weight. I call them Bose speaker birds and they really should go in for electioneering as a career option. On the Delhi Ridge, once I had to take several steps back when a plain prinia began shouting in my face from about a metre away. They do it, of course, to inform other prinias that this is their patch and to attract any lady prinias that may be nearby. Parakeets are shrill and loquacious, especially in flocks and jungle babblers (an old favourite) are hilariously raucous. Jungle and large-grey babblers will start off solo and then quickly become a chorus as other family members join in, jeering and heckling alas in a way that only makes you laugh! Common mynas too have a range of expressive calls, but turn really vituperative when they perceive a threat – their language as blue as a truck driver’s. Again, this is usually when they spot a cat or other would-be predator. The red-wattled lapwing, with its accusatory ‘did-ye-do-it, di-ye-do-it’ is another loudmouth, whose presence birders do not appreciate. Out in the forests, and on farms, the optimistic good morning ‘cock-a-doodle-doo’ calls of the red and grey jungle-fowl and domesticated roosters remind us that it’s time to rise and shine, even if it is only 4.30 in the morning. As summer advances, the ‘kuoo-kuoo-kuoo’ of the koels rise in pitch and volume heading to a crescendo as they go about their business of dropping their eggs in the nests of other birds. There is a feverish urgency about their calling, which surely should tip off the crows, but apparently doesn’t. It all ends in a rich bubbling call which seems to indicate that the job has been done… One lovelorn great barbet in Kasauli called all morning so loudly, ‘piou-piou-piou’, I was sure he could be heard in Shimla! At dusk, flocks of miscellaneous birds may swirl around and gather together to roost on trees. Sparrows (where they still remain), mynas, bulbuls, babblers and parakeets will set up one hell of a racket as they sort out sleeping perches and discuss the day’s business and gossip. And then, as twilight descends, there is silence, so sudden and complete, it’s as if a switch has been thrown. Some insects, too, make a hell of a racket. Primary among these are cicadas, and their high-pitched tinnitus-like calls are a signature sound in forests. And in spite of their ear-splitting nature, there is something comforting about their calling – somehow it makes you feel at peace; that you are in safe and usually beautiful surroundings. The song of frogs in chorus on monsoon evenings is another very comforting (if loud) sound that brings a sense of peace with it. They are singing of course, to attract mates, and scare off rivals. I once attended a rock concert given by some 200 raincoat yellow bullfrogs on the Delhi Ridge – an unforgettable experience. Another animal whose very loud call can raise your spirits wonderfully, is that of gibbons – the world’s smallest apes. On a trip to the Delhi zoo, years ago, I remember being entranced by the ‘hoola-hoola-hoola-hua-hua-hua!’ duetting calls of the Western Hoolock Gibbons. It went perfectly with the high-spirited way they swing easily hand-over-hand through the canopy reaching speeds of 50 kmph! On the other hand, the caterwauling of domestic and feral cats, rising in pitch as they warily circle each other before attacking, does not make for a pleasant experience at all. Their battles are frenzied and hysterical, with much yowling and screeching so full of sheer rage it is difficult to comprehend. Street dogs, that take their guard duties very seriously, may bark through the night incessantly; once one begins, others in the mohalla join in, and they will go on and on long after the ‘threat’ has dissipated. In the silence of the night, they can sound infuriatingly loud. Back in the jungles, the lion is said to make the loudest sound: its roar measuring 114 decibels, one that can be heard from 8 km away and that is similar to that produced by a rock concert. Frankly I never thought them to be so loud, but there you go. Its clicks hitting 230 decibels, the sperm whale is the loudest of them all – though having never heard one I can’t vouch for this. But as for politicians, well put your fingers in your ears, because they beat every living thing hands down!
