It's a still and peaceful morning down near the sea in Kommetjie. Gulls call from the rocks where they are feeding and further out to sea, terns fly by to forage further afield. The sea is a pond, and skiboats have been heading for Cape Point since dawn, the air so still that I can hear the crews calling to each other.
Birds abound in this weather, when they can perch unblown by the wind on a slender twig and peck idly at aphids or a last berry or two before winter. A prinia, such a tiny, rotund bird that seems to have no fear, watched me from the hibiscus while I cursed not having my camera on me as usual.
A Cape robin chat has set up home in the milkwood in my little zen garden, and is always nearby when I go to sit there. Yesterday it had a marvellous bath in the spray from the hose that I left propped in the branches. I hope the cats don't catch it.
Sunbirds twitter all over the garden and the doves and pigeons are passing the time patiently in the dead gum tree. A small flock of red-faced mousebirds dart frantically from tree to tree en masse, somehow never getting their long tail feathers entangled, and a pair of redwing starlings call raucously from the top branch, as if defining their dominance. Some grey-headed sparrows have just joined the party, and a vibrant double-collared sunbird is perched within inches of a house sparrow. Photographs are no good to capture the activity. It has to be seen.
How sensible they all are, just getting on without interfering in each other's lives. Oh, for the wings of a dove!
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