Always something going on in the garden

This morning I was outside on the deck enjoying the crashing of the waves and the activity of the birds. There were so many different species chattering away and flitting about that it was like being inside an invisible aviary. A pair of Cape Robins did aerobatics - a strange vertical dance - before diving for cover, and a prinia alighted on the topmost branch of a tree within 6 feet of me to trill its tune against a backdrop of cloud-bedecked mountains. Suddenly, the pigeons which had been lined up on the peak of the roof took off in panicked flight and I scanned the sky for the sight of the black sparrowhawk, always the guilty party at times like this, and sure enough it came swooping in from the East, gliding between individual pigeons still scattering in all directions, knowing that this was going to be an unsuccessful approach. He alighted in the gum tree to wait for the pigeons to regroup, doubtless to try his luck later.

The ghastly and invasive Brazilian pepper tree that is rapidly enveloping a corner of the house is currently in berry and on opening the bedroom window, which is in the midst of the branches, I startled a flock of 20 or so little brown jobs, which may be anything from a type of finch to a sparrow, but I enjoyed watching their antics nevertheless. It matters not what the name is; we should just enjoy them.

The spotted rock pigeons continue to breed well, particularly now that Felix is not here to keep the population under control, and mainly because we feed them, and of course my ulterior motive is to attract the raptors (don't tell HWCFA - he considers Hoppy and Poppy to be domesticated birds). The feeding was originally intended to keep the guinea fowl amused rather than have them scratch up the garden. Gone are the flocks of yesteryear, with long lines of fluffy-feathered babies running behind their mothers - the crows have made sure that nothing survives. Now to get rid of the crows.

The francolins seem to have suffered the same fate, and the two who brought up a few babies under the protection of the myrtle hedge have also not been seen for some time. Perhaps they have found a more protected place to live. As with everything in life, we can only live in hope.