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He polished his accent, purged every trace of the vernacular from his diction. To hear him talk to his Rotary club friends, a whiskey in hand and a cigar in another, wearing his Raymond suit, one would have never guessed that Chellappa Rajagopal was from a small village. His children went to an international school, for which Chella paid more than he had ever earned in an entire year as a farmer.

But by the time he was 50, Chella began to wonder, Is this all there is to life? A colleague of his died of a heart attack, another left his wife for a younger woman. It seemed harder and harder for Chella now to remember not to lapse into his Kannada accent. When he ate dinner at home with his wife and children, he felt like a guest, like an actor playing a role, and not a real human being. One evening, instead of his customary shirt and trousers, he decided to wear a lungi, just as he used to back in the village.

His wife looked at him aghast. You look like such a villager. Please wear something nice. Ramu was sitting on the veranda, smoking a beedi. It was humid and hot, and as always, the loud noise of insects—crickets, dragonflies, mosquitoes—filled the air. He could see Ramu squinting, wondering who was coming to visit at this time of the evening. The house looked no different, with the green of the moss on the walls, the slightly dirty tiles of the roof.

The only sign of progress was a large dish antenna on the roof. Come in, come in. Ramu and his wife welcomed Chella so heartily, that somehow, he felt guilty for ever having left. After dinner that night, he and Ramu sat out on the veranda.

Ramu seemed quieter than Chella remembered, and he struggled to make conversation, to try to find something to say. What did they ever talk about all those years ago? He felt uncomfortable and nervously lit one of those beedis. Ramu, on the other hand, seemed at ease. They sat there in silence, with Ramu making the occasional comment about the weather and Chella telling him about his business. It seemed so different from his conversation with his golf friends. There, it seemed, someone was always waiting for their turn to speak, and there were few gaps in conversation.

People in his social circle laughed loudly, talked quickly, and had a lot to say. But here, when Chella spoke, Ramu just listened. He also seemed curiously unapologetic about asking the most basic questions. Now he was boring Chella with more conversation about the weather. He smiled shyly, seemingly embarrassed by this turn in the conversation.

Ramu and his wife stood at the door, waving a cheerful goodbye. Thank God I left, Chella thought. These people have no interest in the world beyond their little farm and their little lives. Such fools they are, Chella thought.

It seems our weather forgot to read our human calendar and has forgotten autumn for now. Our wildlife is struggling to cope in these conditions. All types of animals are coming in to wildlife rescue suffering severe dehydration. All sorts of animals are looking for water and are turning up in strange places as a result. I say from experience that it is unnerving when your macaw suddenly swoops on something in the kitchen and then helpfully drops a dead lizard in your lap.

Birds too are in the firing line of this heat. I know many people have the attitude of: Wild birds are struggling in our current conditions. Extreme heat kills birds easily. A quick google search should give you enough media stories of mass heat-related deaths all over the world to convince you of that.

Spending more time indoors than normal. Heat stress in birds is easy enough to notice. A bird controls its temperature by making use of the insulation its feathers offer. The fluffed feathers basically form an insulating barrier for the bird. If this fails to work, they start to pant and their wings will droop. This is a very clear sign that the bird is having difficulty controlling its own temperature. Water can evaporate off the surface of their skin, but if the insulating effect of their feathers fails to keep them cool, the situation can very quickly escalate and become life threatening.

A severely dehydrated bird may show neurological symptoms. They can easily slip into a coma and die at this point. On hot days, wild birds like this Albatross will cool off in water if they can. If you can bring it inside rather than leave it in an outside aviary. A little common sense helps here. In those cases shade cloth material can work miracles.

Make sure your bird has more than one source of drinking water available. That way if one container gets knocked over or contaminated in some way — the other is still there. Look at the way you present food. There are two trains of thought on food in hot weather.

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