Seeing eye to eye with the Sarus Crane evokes a host of questions and the answers aren't exactly simple
Shashwat and I were driving along a small arterial road in Rae Bareli, checking out the pairs of Sarus Crane (Grus antigone) among the paddy fields on either side. It was the end of a relatively warm November day, and dusk was imminent. We came across a beautiful female near a clump of reeds by the roadside -- though sexes are almost alike, I could tell since it was smaller than the male, which was foraging a few metres away.
Shashwat and I were driving along a small arterial road in Rae Bareli, checking out the pairs of Sarus Crane (Grus antigone) among the paddy fields on either side. It was the end of a relatively warm November day, and dusk was imminent. We came across a beautiful female near a clump of reeds by the roadside -- though sexes are almost alike, I could tell since it was smaller than the male, which was foraging a few metres away.
Me: What colour is the Sarus?
Shashwat: Grey, White.
Me: What is the colour of its face?
Shashwat: Red
Me: And the color of its beak?
Shashwat: White, Grey
Me: And the eye?
Shashwat: The Sarus has no eye!
The Sarus hadn’t lost an eye but we were looking into the setting sun with the clump of reeds and the bird in the foreground. Its bright red eye was hidden in the glowing red skin of its head -- you actually could not see it. I knew the eye existed and that he was only telling me what he saw. We were both right, as a Zen master might say, but he was in the "moment"; the unconditioned observer.