<rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/"><channel><title>February 2023</title><link>https://www.birdobserver.org/Issues/2023/February-2023</link><item><title>About Books: The Rasa of the Mango-Colored Bird</title><link>https://www.birdobserver.org/Issues/2023/February-2023/about-books-the-rasa-of-the-mango-colored-bird</link><category>Book and Video Reviews</category><pubDate>Thu, 02 Feb 2023 00:00:07 GMT</pubDate><summary>&lt;h2&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img alt="Conversations with Birds. Priyanka Kumar. 2022. Minneapolis, Minnesota: Milkweed Editions." src="/Portals/0/Assets/bo51-1/bookreviewcover.png?ver=ijPobZxJWpDXE-vOHH7NGQ%3d%3d" style="margin: 12px; float: right; width: 159px; height: 231px;" /&gt;Conversations with Birds.&lt;/em&gt; Priyanka Kumar. 2022. Minneapolis, Minnesota: Milkweed Editions.&lt;/h2&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Birds are my almanac: they tune me into the seasons, and myself.” (p. 1)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;blockquote&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“I owe a debt to this mango-colored bird; once it quite possibly saved my life.” (p. 5)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;

&lt;p&gt;A few years back, during the Sturbridge Christmas Bird Count, we were standing on a small bridge over the Quabog River just before dawn. The early morning light gave the snow-covered landscape a bluish tint. The river was mostly open, although ice had formed along the edges of the cattails. I looked along the banks and there was a bobcat standing still, attention focused on something on the river. It was a drake Mallard. The bobcat was attempting to stalk it, but the edge ice was too thin to support its weight. The Mallard seemed to know this and would swim towards the bobcat quacking, until the bobcat started to slowly creep closer. Then the Mallard would back off, but only so far. It was driving the bobcat crazy. It would try one spot to get closer to the duck, and then another. All the while the Mallard would approach time and again, taunting its potential predator. What was the Mallard doing? I waited for the bobcat to just jump into the water. Bobcats are decent swimmers, but the water was freezing. This mesmerizing and comical scene played out in just minutes, until the blue tint to the snow began to become the first pinkish light of dawn. While watching this scene, all thoughts of the Christmas Count faded from my mind, and there was a feeling of being “in the moment.” Then a car stopped, blocking our view. The driver asked what we were looking at, and I was snapped back to reality. In hushed tones we told him about the bobcat. He took a glimpse and proceeded to have a conversation with us about the wildlife he had seen. That magical moment with the natural world was over. By then, of course, the bobcat had left, although the Mallard remained, quacking away.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Thinking about the experience later, I realized that what I most intensely remember about my days birding is not the list of rarities that I have ticked. My most vivid memories are those special experiences of the natural world that I have come across &lt;em&gt;while&lt;/em&gt; birding. These moments feel like glimpses of a world outside of our human-centered life. A world we do not usually see. You become captivated, transfixed, and everything else in your life melts away. You feel closer to the rhythms of nature. These are the experiences that Priyanka Kumar writes about in &lt;em&gt;Conversations with Birds&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;
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