A breath before flight

From bougainvillea bloom to Champa tree branch, a young white-eye takes its first steps into the sky.

In our garden, something quiet and beautiful unfolded.

After days spent tucked into a tiny nest hidden deep in a bougainvillea shrub, the chick of an Indian White-eye finally stepped out into the open. Its feathers were still fluffed, its movements uncertain. It teetered on a nearby branch, looked around wide-eyed, and took in the light and space it had never seen before. The mother hovered nearby—chirping, flying off and back again with food, always present, always watchful. She never left it alone for long.

The chick began to explore the surrounding branches of the Champa tree. It hopped. It wobbled. It paused. It tried out its wings, fluttering them in short bursts. This wasn’t flight yet, but it was something close. You could see the idea of flight starting to take shape—not in its wings, but in its confidence.

And I stood by, quietly watching. Camera in hand. Click by click, recording this private moment of courage and care. Here is a sequence of that morning:

New Perch, New World - Fresh out of the nest, still unsteady, the chick finds a foothold among fading yellow leaves.

Under Watchful Eyes - The mother stays close, her gaze steady. One has just stepped out, the other never really left.

First Feed, Outside the Nest Even in new territory, the routines continue—chirp, feed, watch, repeat.

Standing Guard Perched alone now, but not unwatched. She’s nearby—always just a branch away.

First Flight Prep Gripping the branch, wings half open—the idea of flying is starting to form.

The Lift Off Test A burst of wingwork over dew-kissed leaves. Almost airborne.

Balance Check Still wobbly, still working on control—but getting closer to takeoff with every attempt.

The Mid-Flap Moment Every hop carries a dream. Every flap, a tiny promise of flight.

Pause Before the Leap Resting on a green stage, the chick gathers breath—and nerve—for the skies ahead.

That morning, our garden felt a little larger. Not because the chick had flown, but because it had dared to try.

...Chiselled in place

...Amber eyes, summer light