by Yong Soo Heong
In the days when our kid attended morning school, my mornings were always punctuated by an unmistakable ritual — a lively duet performed by a pair of birds, who never missed their cue at around 7 a.m.
Their symphony was quite melodious, sometimes it leaned more towards hollering. But without fail, they became my natural alarm clock to avoid running late.
Now, I’m pretty certain they didn’t have Rolex, Omega, or Seiko watches strapped to their tiny wings. Yet somehow, they always knew more or less when to begin their morning recital. The mystery of their punctuality still baffles me to this day.
Because dawn was neither too dim nor glaringly bright at that hour, I never quite managed to identify their species. Their silhouettes remained elusive, and approaching their perch on the nearby tree only resulted in their swift escape, leaving me intrigued and empty-handed.
Their singing delivered an important message each morning: Start your car now, or risk your son being late for school and your wife being tardy for work! This avian performance lasted about five to 10 minutes each time, and like clockwork, the feathered duo would return the next day to continue their ritual.
Sadly, some years ago, their voices faded into silence. I was heartbroken. The honey nangka (jackfruit) tree outside my house, which they seemed to favour, had been chopped down due to old age.
For the record, the tree had a majestic presence, and to sound almost like Muhammad Ali, the legendary boxer, it was the greatest along my street in our Wangsa Maju precinct! The tree was the tallest and widest. Its fruits? The sweetest and juiciest!
But its colossal fruits sometimes felt like bombs coming down from a WWII bomber — a spectacle that kept us on our toes! If we didn’t harvest them quickly enough, their overly ripe descent could turn into quite the financial hazard, with my car’s windscreen bearing the brunt of their weight more than once!
With the tree gone, my singing avian friends disappeared too. It was as if they knew the school routine had ended, and they no longer had a mission to fulfill. Their absence left me wistful, longing for their quirky punctuality.
Fast forward to recent days, and to my absolute delight, a pair of singing birds – with the same voices and melody — has returned — this time to a nangka tree opposite my house! Their performance has resumed at the familiar 7 a.m slot, and I couldn’t be happier to hear their voices once again. My feathery alarm clocks are back in business!
But there’s a curious twist to the tale. On some days, they go AWOL — perhaps nursing sore throats like Adele, Ariana Grande, or Celine Dion might before postponing a concert. And here’s the kicker: they’ve started singing at 7 p.m as well! Maybe they’re flaunting their super jet-setter dual-time watches that mere humans can only dream of owning!
One thing’s for sure: these birds continue to surprise me, keeping their quirky charm alive as they weave themselves back into my daily rhythm, now sometimes twice a day!