Here’s a bird book with a difference. When Birds Talked by Neha Negi draws on Uttarakhand’s rich oral traditions to tell folklore connected to birds—stories that trace the origins of birds like the Himalayan Monal and many others, bringing alive themes of transformation, longing and resilience. Told dramatically and accompanied by hand-painted sketches, the book weaves together mythology, ecology and human imagination. It is an ode to the bond between hill communities and nature, a celebration of fading traditions, and a quiet call to protect the increasingly disbalanced ecosystem of the Himalaya.
The book reminds us not to forget the smaller birds who play a vital role in alpine pastures by keeping insect populations in check on grassy slopes. These everyday, often overlooked presences are as much a part of the mountain story as the more spectacular species.
“Perhaps the birds represent our deepest, most primal desire—to be free, to soar through space minus gravity. In a world of jams, the author looks upon birds with admiration; they have just their songs to sing, and unlike humans, there are no constraints—no delays, no schedules, no borders.”
Negi writes. “One of these birds is the Himalayan Monal, the State Bird of Uttarakhand, which fights a losing battle against fragmentation and climate change.”
Pollution blocks flight paths, pesticides poison food chains, and urbanisation disrupts natural patterns from day zero. As we fiddle with these mountains—through fractured landscapes, deforestation, hydro-electric projects, and unbridled tourism—Negi’s book insists this is not merely a story of loss. It is an opportunity for connection, understanding, and hope for transformation. These are fireside tales that bridge the gulf between inhabitants and their environment, carving a window into our perception.
Those who live in Uttarakhand draw from ancient values rooted in reverence for nature. To Negi, “the monal is not just a bird; it is a spirit trapped in feathers, and its brilliant colouring is a gift from the Gods of the high mountains.” Myths and legends, gods and goddesses, folktales and folklore intermingle in the cobbled courtyards of hill homes. In the Whistling Thrush are the laments of a mother and a wedded daughter pining for home. Even ravens hold a sacred place, connected to ancestors who offer blessings and protection.
Divided into ten chapters, each named after a bird, the book carries stories woven around these avian presences. A brilliant cover by Aakrati Khurana adds to the magic of the written word, revealing a passion so sacred that it shapes every conversation and every journey across the hill state.
Only then does the reviewer step in as a witness. Watching a pesky Simla tit, no bigger than a sparrow, begin its breakfast of moths drawn overnight from the forest to the patio light, the reviewer becomes part of the quiet ecology the book celebrates. With the march of winter, the mountains are flecked by a mantle of snow, and the exodus begins. Flocks of birds escape the mountain chill by descending to forage in the lower foothills.
Among them are birds such as the blood pheasant, usually seen at heights of 15,000 feet. The male is gaily coloured, named after its distinctive stripes, while the female lacks these bright colours as she incubates eggs perched on cliff faces. Her dull, rocky brown colouring mirrors the surrounding landscape, a lesson in survival and adaptation.
Next time you see a Himalayan Monal, Negi’s stories will come alive. She rekindles that sense of wonder one often loses in the rush to grow up.