“Mummy. See.”

Meow, my two year old Daughter, came running towards me with a curious looking thing in hand. It was her first time spotting it in the neighborhood. She was delighted. I doubled her joy by blowing that thing softly away from her hands and up in to the air; it made a brief poetic flight before ascending gently near her feet. I know that many more of these will be spotted, treasured and traded by her, just like I did when I was a little above her age. But this first acquaintance is something that I wanted to capture and cherish till eternity, in both our memories; so, I photographed it. I am unsure if she will be as lucky as I am now, when she has a daughter herself.

I’ll tell you why.

The thing she spotted was a fluffy Feather. The reason why I felt concerned and ventured so far into the future was because it belonged to a crow. When I was in primary school and took interest in feather spotting, the most frequently spotted feathers belonged to sparrows. Though they were not interesting or colorful, they were abundantly strewn all over the place; in the yards, behind the pendulum wall clocks, window sills, sun shades and even inside our uniform shoes. But I myself have hardly seen any in the recent past. Not just the sparrow feathers, I am unable to locate those of parrots, mynas,  pigeons or kingfishers either.

I wonder if Meow’s daughter to be from the future would spot any feathers at all. At this rate, looks like the closest feather like thing she’d spot might belong to cockroaches; the only species resistant to extinction from any urban sprawl (or earth shattering meteorites for that matter). It would not be a pretty sight worth capturing, no?

That my dear readers is what I am worried about.

Isn’t it high time we embraced teeny tiny rooftop bird sanctuaries ?