A piercing whistle followed by a rapid dash of yellow between the rain trees by the road usually signals the passage of a black-naped oriole or two. Even in the wildest parts of the city, where little life might be expected save the dull footsteps of seasonal festivities, these masked callers ekk a living, as long as an aerial path of trees remains to fuel their flight. For all their ubiquity, these gaudy fowl, which the Malays call "burung kunyit" for their plumage of turmeric, still evoke surprise and even shock when they shatter the soothing sights of urban life with a burst of liquid melody and a glimpse of saffron gold. Perhaps some find it disturbing that in a city where few have a love for life nor a life to love, a beast of such beauty has the nerve to survive, unlike its dark-throated kin that were deservedly extirpated from this isle for their inflexible attachment to deep forest and who followed these woods into vanished realms beyond the reach of men.
Comments