Well, what do you know?

“I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.”

J.R.R. Tolkien

The air around us here on the farm is filled with the sounds of birds not easily noticed. I do not know half of them. By the time I get to the bird call CD, I’ve forgotten how it sounded when I heard it on the way to the workshop. On good days I can tell you it wasn’t an African Penguin or a Cape Vulture, but that’s about it. And for the life of me I can’t make any sense from the calls I read about in birding books. A bird would fly right into my face crying “plooodleeoo” and apparently a shriller “kweeeer” and I won’t be able to say: “Watch out, you Blackheaded Oriole!” So, I keep listening to songs I know of singers I don’t.

Sebastien, Matilda’s nephew who is currently here with us on Barrowfield, loves fishing. No, wrong spelling! He lives fishing – line, hook and sinker, bait, fishing spots, species, weather conditions, seasons, recipes best suited for the catch of the day, the works. In the past we’ve driven pass the water spots in our area and the large Zaaihoekdam and half suspected that in all probability there might be things moving in its depths. Now, we have tasted Bass and have been informed on the habits of Carp, among other things. Lately, on driving along the banks of Zaaihoek, I do so thinking: “What will water my appetite and lure me, as I am gliding along in places where no man comes?”

So much for being master over the fish in the ocean, the birds that fly, and every living thing that crawls on the earth. How can I rule without knowing? I think I shall start there. It might even reveal to me what rule and master mean. And help. Especially where Sebastien is concerned.

George