A bird in the hand

It seems as though little Susie is not the only one with poor eyesight (apart from us). Every day there is a thud against a window, of varying intensity relative to the size of the bird which doesn't seem to know it's flying into the house. It's not as if the windows are clear - living next to the sea and being a double storey means that window cleaning is rather low on my housework priorities - so I'm not sure what causes it. Yesterday a bird hit a window so hard that I can only think it was being chased, or had been hit by a sparrowhawk, as that has happened before to the accompaniment of thousands of tiny feathers wafting down for ages. I couldn't find the victim despite an investigative foray into the garden, so it will have to remain a mystery.

Doves and pigeons regularly leave an imprint of spreadeagled wings and a bent neck and sometimes an eyeprint, but it's seldom fatal and they sit on the ground for a while to regain their composure before disappearing into the blue yonder again.

This morning I found a little Cape White-eye sitting on the balcony, quite unconcerned by our presence and not looking injured in any way. It wouldn't have been a good idea to leave it there as a snack for the cat, so I reached down to pick it up and it didn't bat an eyelid. I carried it around, moving it from hand to hand and it had no ruffled feathers or apparent injury, but was quite happy to sit on my finger with its tiny claws clinging tenaciously to this strange, soft twig.

It was only when I reached out to stroke its tiny head that it took flight, swiftly swooping over the treetops and into the shelter of a coprosma. What a privilege it was, to hold this fragile creature which showed no fear.

Walking in unspoiled nature

While I wouldn't go so far as to say the air was slightly autumnal today - the light is still that of summer - but a harbinger of autumn sent some cloud cover over the Peninsula. Our early morning walk down to the lighthouse was beneath a cloudless sky, only a strong shore break giving away what was to arrive a bit later. Early surfers were out there taking advantage of some steep waves and wipeouts were very much the order of the day - not something I have seen often in all my years observing at the Outer Kom.

 The lighthouse, which was completely restored externally only two years ago, is once again adorned in a cloak of scaffolding, which leads one to think that the contract for maintenance must have gone out to tender and as is usual these days, will entail frequent painting with inferior materials, rather than the old way of making it last for 10 years or so. At least the scaffolding is quite attractive, being uniformly red and without the ragged pieces of hessian which were randomly attached last time. The lighthouse is now our very own Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Later in the day, we took a drive down to Scarborough with the doggies in the Mini for a run on the small beach. By then, the sky had darkened and the sea was churning ashore, kite boarders in evidence far out. The dogs have apparently aged significantly since we last were down there, as normally they run and run, side by side, until nearly out of sight before rushing back to us. But this time, Monty barely broke into a trot, and poor little Susie, who in the last few days seems to have lost her sight in the other eye now, didn't leave our heels. I fear it is time to get her a pair of dark glasses and a little white stick.

I had barely got home when I got an invitation to go walking around the island here in Kommetjie, so despite an outlook threatening rain, off I set again. It really is the most marvellous place to walk, allowing you to look back towards the shoreline as if out at sea and giving a panoramic view over the Peninsula mountain chain starting with the Sentinel on the left and ending the with lighthouse at the foot of Slangkop. Out to sea, anchovy boats chugged towards the horizon, disappearing into the shadow of approaching rain, and the waves continued to tower higher and higher, gleaming brightly in the shards of sunlight breaking through gaps in the clouds as they tumbled and foamed towards the rocks.

In total, on all three walks I don't think we passed more than 15 people (all accompanied by numerous dogs). It's hard to believe that so few are out there enjoying this spectacular area of natural beauty, but then again, perhaps that is what adds to its attraction - it is relatively unspoiled except for easily accessible areas.

Long may it last.

A Cape Town summer's day

How magnificent is this day? Not hot and not cold. No wind. No clouds. Sunlight glittering off the crests of wavelets stretching as far as the horizon, the surface of the sea in between a glossy, glassy, glistening stretch of reflected cerulean.

In the garden, birds idly stretch their wings, catching any air movement to keep cool, or swooping swiftly among the drops of water fountaining from the hosepipe I am holding skywards. A few showers overnight have dampened the earth, allowing man-made rain to seep quickly below the surface to be sucked up thirstily at grassroot level, denying the sun an opportunity to reclaim the moisture and turn it into fluffy white clouds.

I look up and see a cottonwool cloud appear from thin air, and within minutes it has swirled into a new shape and then disappeared, while in the background two new clouds appear to show that, while we are delighting in a wind-free day down here, the atmosphere is in a constant state of turbulence, allowing us to experience different weather patterns, rather than eternal winter or endless summer.

 

Random thoughts and a picture

It's been days since I posted a blog, which unfortunately means that I have found nothing worth saying! Life continues as usual: work, work, work (thank goodness!), Tai Chi when I get the chance and coffee with good friends to lift the spirits and give the fingers and eyes a break. Computers definitely take their toll on the human body and I often wonder whether, in many years from now, we will be told that excessive use is a leading cause of eye disease or curvature of the spine! I know for sure it causes stultification of the brain.

Here in Cape Town, the late summer days continue to be a delight, with temperatures in the high 20s and very little wind to speak of making life very comfortable, thank you. Foreign visitors flock to our shores at this time of year as they know this is the best time to enjoy all that we have to offer - school children are back behind their desks, the wind free days are usually at their maximum and chances of rain are at a minimum.

This morning I was awoken by the ghostly booming of a foghorn creeping in from the sea. Looking out of the window, I see nothing but blue skies and the sea is visible far out to sea, so I can only imagine the ship must be going through a pocket of fog quite far out. The forecast is for cloud and cooler weather, but that is no cause for alarm as cooler is great for the garden. The birds are out in force, with a flock of grey-headed sparrows to be found pecking on the lawn every day - with all the food and water I have been giving to my plants this summer, it is looking jungle-like and even the cat can now lie hidden like a lion in the long grass, doubtless with an eye on one of those sparrows for a snack. My favourite flock of sacred ibis has just flown overhead on their way to their feeding grounds down at Soetwater, just beyond the lighthouse. The flock is much smaller than it used to be, but it may be that they have split into groups and take off at different times.

I hope that the weekend will bring something exciting to relate, but in the meantime, here is a totally random picture to enjoy: It's a view from Franschhoek towards Stellenbosch in the late afternoon of a summer's day.

Birds enjoying the fruits of nature

Leaning against the fence watching the Cape White-eyes darting in and out of the ivy and coprosma shrubbery, feasting on the berries in the late afternoon, as is their wont. These little birds are so fast, I don't know if their flight speed has ever been measured, but over short bursts they must surely be the cheetahs of the avian world. And they never miss a branch. Always perfectly parked.

I'm wearing my floral shirt and obviously doing a good imitation of a rose bush, because a bird swooped out of the bush like lightning and nearly stuck its beak up my nostril! He must have had the reflexes of a fighter pilot as he veered off to the left and into the hibiscus, while I was still blinking.

At this time of year, when the berries are ripe and the birds are stocking up their fat supplies for winter (although I can't imagine a fat Cape White-eye), the ground is a minefield of brightly coloured bird droppings, each one revealing that particular bird's favoured diet. While the White-eyes relish the sticky, bright orange coprosma berries and enjoy spitting out the pips into your hair if you are sitting underneath the tree, Redwing Starlings prefer the glossy, dark purple milkwood berries. These form 'bombs' that splatter against the washing flapping spotlessly on the washline in perfect drying conditions and by the time you have discovered the large purple splashes, they have set nicely and it requires a few washes to get the stains out.

The berries that fall on the ground are also hazardous, sticking in the treads of your shoes and getting walked into the carpets if you don't notice. Or if you are like me, lodging between the toes and under the soles of your bare feet, necessitating long soaking in a bucket of hot foam bath to try and clean it off. No detergent footbath for me, thank you, even if it is more effective.

I love the smell of milkwoods in berry, but that is not something shared by many others, who turn up their noses and associate it with all kinds of aromas which shall remain nameless, as I don't want to spoil my own assessment of the smell! But there is no doubt that the accompanying mess is something I could do without.

Shark!

On Saturday morning, a close friend who has been a fisherman all his life was anchored in False Bay, catching linefish with another friend who was teaching his 9-year-old son to fish. There were five other crew members on the boat - an old traditional wooden Kalk Bay fishing boat of maybe 5m in length.

They were catching mackerel and an assortment of other fish, all standing or sitting on the gunwales, when a 4 metre great white shark launched itself from the deep sea, its mouth gaping wide and rows of deadly teeth exposed, straight onto the boat. Its trajectory indicated that it was after the small boy, whose father instinctively literally snatched him from the jaws of death, flinging himself and his son backwards into the laaitjies (fishing boxes) and smashing the wooden partitions to smithereens.

Our friend, Peter, who was at the back of the boat behind the cabin, recalls that, apart from the shock of the suddenness of the attack, the sight of the teeth and the size of the shark, the most vivid recollection of the entire 10-second event was the revolting smell that came from the shark - something that he says he will never forget. At the time, his only concern was to get out of the way of the shark, which had struck the side of the little cabin, nose first, and was now sliding off the boat and back into the water. His only refuge was the cabin and he threw himself onto the floor as tons of shark passed overhead.

The whole incident was over before anyone could give a warning. They picked themselves up and not a word was said. The rest of the crew were bug-eyed and when everyone could talk again, it was a case of let's just get the hell out of here! Which they did.

Being fishermen, after travelling a few kilometres, they stopped again to throw out a line, a ironically hooked a small shark of another species. As it was being hauled in, another great white sped up behind it and took the whole thing before their very eyes. That was fishing over for the day!

He has been fishing in the bay for more than 40 years and has never experienced anything like it. I'm not sure how the little boy is feeling - probably quite traumatised, but one thing is for sure: when they ask him at school what he did on the weekend, he will be the star of the class and be able to dine out on his story for the rest of his life!

A bustle of birdlife

There's been a lot of jostling for position in the old spider gum next door lately. The other day, a dove and a juvenile black sparrowhawk were engaged in a sparring match, pecking at each other as they vied for the same space on a favoured branch. It was a most strange interaction between predator and prey, as they seemed oblivious of their natural hierarchy. Eventually the sparrowhawk moved off to another branch and sulked for a while before flying off.

This morning, a paradise flycatcher, with its characteristic bobbing flight and elegant tail, is being relentlessly pursued by a fiscal flycatcher, which has two babies preening themselves among the branches. The paradise flycatcher eventually gives in, and settles on the tip of a branch about a foot away from a red-faced mousebird, who takes absolutely no notice of him and he leaves, no doubt to seek a nice reflective window to admire himself in. This activity forms quite a part of his waking hours.

Unconcerned by all this activity, a pair of red-wing starlings are attending to their youngster. Yesterday the young bird flew into a window and became disorientated, fluttering down to the ground while the parents watched and called to it from the rooftop. One bird would fly down and sit on the fence, calling to it and then flying back up to the roof, in an effort to encourage it to get away from the clutches of the cat which is always around. It hopped about in the shrubbery while the parent kept calling and flying down to it and after about half an hour it flew safely back onto the roof. Fascinating to see parenting in the bird world.

And here's a treat! As I am looking at the assortment of small birds hopping among the twigs, in the background I see six flamingos coming in to land in the Kom. They are the most beautiful birds in flight, necks and legs outstretched and dark pink wings gently flapping them through the air.

There's no doubt about it, there is always something interesting to see when you keep looking up!