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Kings

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Source: Wikipedia

 There is a Hadeda Ibis nest on one of the branches of the American Ash where I park my bakkie. I wasn’t aware that the female has been busy hatching eggs for the last couple of days, constantly sitting in that one spot. It was only when I took workers home on Tuesday that I saw the results of my unfortunate parking spot. My windscreen reminded me of those old aerial pictures of bombing raids during World War II. 


 




I was in a hurry and because I was only going to travel on a dirt road I did not bother cleaning my window. Let me put it this way, it’s not easy finding your way looking through the remnants of Hadeda meals. Going past Zaaihoek dam I had a view through the clues of Saturday’s menu. Coming back the sun sat at an angle so at times  I had to lower my head and look through the small opening of what was left of a Hadeda’s Sunday and Monday, only to quickly return to that Saturday spot at the curves in the road.

First thing Wednesday I ask Skhumbuzo to wash the bakkie. “This looks terrible” he confirms my suspicions. “You must find another parking spot.” That I certainly plan to do. There must be other ways of learning those strange dance movements introduced by Michael Jackson where you jerk your head spastically into different positions.

“That bird, sitting in that nest,” he asks me “when her babies come, will they have beaks as large as hers or do they only get it later? It must be difficult in a nest with other chicks if you have such a big mouth.” 

“I am not sure Skhumbuzo, we must wait and see.”

So now we watch a Hadeda nest in anticipation, constantly wondering over the size of little beaks. I am not going to Google it. I want to see with my own eyes, experience it.

I have to agree with Robert Louis Stevenson: “The world is so full of a number of things, I ’m sure we should all be as happy as kings.”

Even bird droppings are passage ways to discovery.

 

George



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