There&rsquos a staccato tap-tap-tap on the glass bay window at breakfast time, and in the quiet stillness of the place I&rsquom in, even that gentle noise seems amplified manifold. And looking up from the delectable idli-vada-filter-coffee I&rsquom tucking into, I am startled into delighted wonderment. For, fluttering outside, like a gravity-defying chopper in standstill mode, is a chromatically resplendent sunbird, its tiny wings flapping frenetically away. Hovering thus, for what seems the longest moment, he pecks away with his distinctive decurved bill, trying to snap up a tiny garden bug that&rsquos perched on the glass window. But, in fact, the bug is on my side of the glass partition and, for that reason, safely out of reach of the avian visitor. His morse-code exertions having failed to yield his prey, the whirlybird looks sheepishly at me, before darting away into the surrounding coffee plantations.




