SPRING has sprung, the grass is riz, I wonder where the birdies is.
I know where the birdies is.
Okay, so spring is a couple of days away, but the birdies is here.
A few weeks ago, a little robin fluttered in, in fly-bys and a closed-window close encounter, and prompted a reminder that we should pay more careful attention to what was around us. To see, not just look; to listen, not only hear. Thankfully, the ceiling fans were not yet on the summer schedule: always on.
Now the robin has moved in. I kept catching peripheral movement from the desk to the kitchen door. And there he was. Every day, hopping through the kitchen, checking me out for a bit and flitting out of the back door.
There were some tings from the dogs’ stainless steel food bowls and all four were at their usual stations on the couches, so it wasn’t them.
The pretty little fella also left a few calling cards. Bit rude, but he got the message across: feed me.
Worried that one of the canines would catch him, I found an old basket to hang on a tree limb outside the back door and put a few dog chunks inside. Sure enough, they were gone the next day.
He’s a hungry little critter. He popped in while I was washing dishes. We stood looking at each other and I told him I would feed him now. He took off and waited on the edge of the basket until I went out with another handful. He retreated, but as soon as I was back inside, peeking out of the window, he was in the basket, pecking away.
There’s a little dog-proof thicket nearby and I think he’s moved in there.
We also had drama with the hadeda family that lives on a branch about 6m from the “office” window. Their raucous conversations have become unremarkable, so it was startling to hear a very unusual and alarmed hadeda “cheep”. The fledgling was stuck on the ground with five dogs circling it while the parents shouted from the tree tops. I managed to intervene and the little one waddled into another area, trailed by the hounds. One went for its neck, causing utter chaos. Thankfully, he freed it when I yelled at him in a tone none of them had ever heard. The hadeda wobbled about, scaled the garden wall and, having collected himself, flew off to find refuge on a neighbour’s roof.
In the back garden, the weavers have used the palms (with accompanying frond destruction, of course) for years during the breeding season, which is starting now with much vocalisation. One plucky devil chose my butterfly tree (no idea what it really is, but butterflies love it) and carefully, leaf by little leaf, picked one of the branches clean to build its nest at the tip.
It is an honour when a wild creature allows you to form a connection with it, or just goes about its business while you go about yours.
It’s a simple thing, but sometimes, when life seems to be overwhelmingly challenging, it’s soothing and calming to just know where the birdies is.
- Lindsay Slogrove is the news editor
The Independent on Saturday