Bird Feeding and a Reflection on Social Darwinism

I regularly feed the birds that come to my balcony. It’s a comforting routine—one that has developed a rhythm of its own. The Indian sparrows and Mynas, in particular, have a knack for showing up at specific times, usually during breakfast, lunch, and occasionally in the afternoon before they retire for the day. Our multi-storied complex, surrounded by greenery, seems to attract them, although I often wonder where they disappear to for the rest of the day. Do they retreat to the trees nearby, or perhaps find shelter in some overlooked corner of the building? These little mysteries remain unsolved.

The birds that visit are quite picky about their food. They’ll only accept Indian small ‘nimkis’ (namak pare), a crispy, savory snack made from flour and spices, deep-fried in oil. This particular preference has an origin story: my mother, who lived in this apartment before me, began feeding them these treats years ago. Her fondness for nimkis must have been passed on to the birds, who now seem almost addicted to them. Any attempt to offer healthier alternatives, like grains or puffed rice, is met with loud protests. The birds will simply ignore these options and continue their noisy demands until the nimkis are restored.

I often wonder if the same birds have been coming here for years, perhaps even a decade. I notice different sizes among them sometimes—perhaps it's the parents bringing their chicks for a snack. It’s not always easy to tell them apart since these Mynas (or Shalik, as we call them in Bengali) look remarkably similar, except for slight differences in size and the occasional tuft at the base of their beaks.

Now, there’s a rule against bird feeding in our complex, primarily due to the pigeons. These birds, numerous and robust, live in the building’s cornices and are believed to carry germs, potentially posing a health risk to the residents. So, yes, I might be guilty on two counts: feeding the birds in defiance of the rules and offering them what some might consider "junk food."

Pigeons, with their size and assertiveness, often invade the feeding area, driving away the Mynas and gobbling up most of the food intended for them. The Mynas, much smaller and less aggressive, wait sadly in the corner until the pigeons are done. I find myself intervening, trying to shoo the pigeons away so that the Mynas can have their share. But this isn’t easy—pigeons are quite fearless and seem to understand the limits of my reach. The Mynas, unfortunately, get scared by my attempts to help, not realizing that I’m trying to ensure they get their food despite the natural hierarchy.

The pigeons, with their dominance, seem to have claimed their place at the top of this little food chain. Even our regular crows, who are usually quite bold, stand by on the sidelines, waiting for their turn.

This whole scenario makes me question my role in the natural order of things. By feeding the weaker birds and attempting to level the playing field, am I defying nature? Am I interfering with the survival of the fittest by trying to make the Mynas feel stronger and more secure with the food I offer them? And what about the pigeons? Am I discriminating against them because of their perceived dirtiness and the potential health risks they pose? Do I, subconsciously, wish for their numbers to dwindle?

These are difficult questions, and the answers aren’t clear. All I know is that, for now, I’ll keep feeding my feathered friends and wrestling with these reflections, wondering if I’m doing more harm than good or if I’m simply trying to make a small corner of the world a bit more just for those who are less fortunate.