Dawn on the deck

How lucky am I? I step out onto my deck overlooking an albeit limited sea view, long before sunrise, and all I can hear is the crashing of the waves as they break across the mouth of the little bay just on the other side of the milkwoods that have managed to survive the onslaught of 'progress'. These twisted and gnarled marvels of nature have survived for hundreds of years, providing shelter for birds and people alike under their thick umbrella-like canopies. Those closest to the sea are stunted and sparser than the magnificent specimens that line the road leading down to the lighthouse, and it is only because they are protected trees, and also not on private land, that they are still there. A little judicious pruning is allowed on private property, and in general people who are lucky enough to have these trees in their gardens adhere to the conservation requirements, but fairly recently a contractor decided to improve the chances of the sale of a beachfront property and within less than a day had destroyed an entire grove of ancient trees to allow an unobstructed view of the sea. The ignorance and selfishness of some people know no bounds, and of course nothing can be done to reverse the dirty deed except wait for the pathetic stumps to regrow. But I digress. Back to the early dawn on my deck.
Overhead, the stars are fading as the sky changes from inky black to indigo, but Jupiter and Venus remain bright on each end of the ecliptic even as the sky lightens before the chasing dawn. There is something restorative to the soul when looking up and out into infinity, a knowing that this earthly life is not all that awaits us. A soft swoosh draws my eye to the flock of sacred ibis winging overhead and a few minutes later, the straggler who has always been left behind for as long as I can remember (both outward and inward bound) follows silently and determinedly.
Birds stir in the branches, calling cheerfully to the new day, never deterred by the weather. We could take a lesson from them. The early bird no longer has to catch the worm, at least not if it is a seedeater, as bird feeders are in almost every garden, and they start before sunrise before the competition arrives. They have worked out a system whereby the smaller birds peck at the seed and suet ball, creating a mess on the deck which the Cape Robin-Chats and Southern Boubous make short work of, being bold and unafraid of my presence if I stand still. Birdwatching at its best!