I was awakened one morning at 6:00am by shouts from the rice fields in front of my house in Bali. When these strange, war-like cries continued, I knew I’d never get back to sleep. From the terrace I could see farmers walking through their fields, occasionally letting out a stylized cry that could be heard a mile away. I thought, “God, I hope this is some sort of ceremony for today only.” My precious peace was being disturbed. I watched, cup of tea in hand, until I saw the reason for making this racket: birds. The rice is starting to turn from green to gold, and the birds were having breakfast. The rice farmers’ banners of brightly color cloth and tin foil blowing in the breeze were not doing the job. Only a living, shouting scarecrow could save the crop.
Half an hour later, a group of four or five boys, aged seven to nine, were walking along the raised footpaths through the rice fields, playing follow-the-leader. One minute they were hopping on one foot, the next they were all singing. It was one of the sweetest, most natural and joyful sounds I have ever heard. As they were marching past the rice farmer, each boy was practicing his bird chasing whoops and laughing. Having completed their rice field tour, they walked single file up the path along the side of my villa with only their bobbing heads showing, once again singing their indescribably sweet songs.
While the farmers were still in their fields shouting at the birds my mind had been at war. I wanted to practice my war-whoops too, just like the kids, but being the quiet, mild-mannered soul I am, I rarely raise my voice. Just the thought of shouting at the birds in a Balinese rice field made me turn red with embarrassment. The tide of the internal battle turned, and I let out my first battle-croak. Embarrassed but undaunted, I tried again and again, until I was hoarse and laughing. I listened for the farmers’ reaction, and heard only silence, perhaps shocked silence. Maybe they were all laughing. I only knew I had won my battle.
I am still slightly embarrassed as I write this, embarrassed, but laughing, still. My wife wonders if it could really be true that I shouted at the birds from the terrace. But I know I was out there with the best of them on that fine Balinese morning, whooping at the birds.
