Mama’s lovely load

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Dr. A.A. Quraishy

Nature has gifted every living creature with a remarkable instinct to love, protect and care for its young. From the cautious care of a tigress to the extraordinary sacrifice of a penguin and the ingenious ways birds safeguard their nestlings, every species has its own way of ensuring the survival of its offspring.

All mamas love to carry their offsprings as comfortably as possible, but they are scared for. Right from Mrs. Tiger’s den, where they are left under a ledge or a bushy dwelling, to the most well-protected, cozy pouch in kangaroo-mummy, they all speak one language — of tenderness, maximum safety of the young one and freedom from the threat. The tigress, for example, never strays far from them, although there is strong urge to hunt and keep the belly full for the production of milk, which is the only diet for weeks. The worst enemy is the male tiger, including the father who had long been driven away by the anxious mother after a short courtship.

The ants, the insects, the venomous scorpions, the poisonous snake all can bite and injure the helpless, blind cubs which can emit only a cry of alarm. But nature had seen that possibility and gave them a repulsive smell. When water goes over the danger mark, mama lifts every cub by the scruff of the neck and hides it in another bushy or rocky haven. The stink travels with the gurgling, spitting cub.

Lion cubs are far safer because of the social freedom and tolerance. They live in communal prides, eat and drink together, hunt together. The aunties and uncles are never far. When they are the size of domestic cat, they play with the bushy tuft of the tail of the King of Jungle. They can jump and romp over him, scratch and nibble at his nose without offending him. When annoyed, he moves a little away.

The babies in the bears ride on mama’s back when she goes for food. The monkeys have a better method: the baby keeps mama’s teat in his mouth and holds her with its four limbs. Whether mama jumps, skips, hops the baby does not fall off. Besides, by lying over the region of the heart, it can hear the music lub-dub of the heart which puts him at ease and sleeps a dreamless sleep (do monkeys dream?) without losing the grip. When it is a toddler, it rides over mama’s back.

In deer and other grass-eating animals, the situation is precarious. Jungle cats, foxes, jackals, hyenas, leopards, tigers and other flesh-eating animals are in search of an easy meal, day and night and are guided by their nose. The mama, therefore, soon after birth balances it over her nose and jerks it away in a new place where she pushes it further into safety. This, because the place where the baby is born has the tell-tale smell of the placenta, the thin protective covering of the fleshy envelop which had wrapped up the developing embryo in mama’s inside. In the new place also, the mama is never far away from the precious load and at the time of danger she emits a signal, like a sharp sniff, which makes the newborn freeze: “I have lifted one.” The fawn just hung loose like a limp rag and when it was replaced, it ran like a scared rabbit. The fawn has no smell which is another protective measure by nature.

The nestlings of the seed and fruit-eating birds are never safe except for the birds of prey, most of which lay and hatch young ones on high ledges of mountains. Should any danger come up, the parents have sharp talons, a powerful beak and the courage of a wolf. The king fishers also eat fish, but they do not have enough power to fight. They, therefore, raise the young ones in holes of muddy banks in canals and lakes. The tree duck, unlike other ducks, makes a nest up in the tree and raises the young ones. On hatching, the downy ducklings are coaxed to follow mama by flying down to the earth wherefrom she calls them. It is a funny scene to see newly hatched babies flopping down and falling like a small bundle of wool. Miraculously no one is injured.

In birds because of the high rate of deaths, mama lays several eggs. If they are destroyed, she lays another clutch in the same season. Only the polyandrous weaver bird builds his nest over the tip of thorny branch, usually hanging over water. No predator can balance itself on a thin branch.

But the mama penguin gives to her offspring is marvelous. The egg is held in a depression made by joining two feet over which a flap of skin from the belly-side covers it for warmth for incubation. Without eating and drinking the dutiful mama or papa, stands day and night (there is hardly any day down there) until mama returns after a fortnight or so to take over the duty. (If the egg touches the permafrost ground, the chick will die immediately of shock from cold.) When the chick is born, the parents open their beak wide for the chick to push its beak deep down into the crop to pick up the half-digested fish, which process goes on for quite some time until it can feed by itself. When the parents are out hunting, an aunty takes care of the rookery in which all the young ones born that season are huddled. When the parents return, they take care of their young ones, correctly identifying each. How? Well, that is still a mystery.

Some fish (cichlids to name one) protect the fries by opening their mouths into which they all hide when threatened. In one species of frog in Brazil’s rain forest, the male hatches the eggs by keeping them in his mouth. The snakes, on the other hand, do not take care of their siblings at all. The crocodile family do. The mama digs out the debris when the young ones call from the mound under which the eggs are buried.

Well, one could go on and on. The world is full of wonders.