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closely by the cheeky White-browed Robin-chat intent on defending his territory. I listened to
the mimicry of the Fork-tailed Drongos as they chased the bugs I flushed from the long grass. As
I pruned my bushes I took care to avoid disturbing the Dark-Capped Bulbul nest and I listened to
the liquid rolling calls of the Black-headed Orioles. I heard the yammering of the Hamerkop who
came to investigate the pool and the tweeting of the Blue Waxbills objecting to his presence. As I
re-potted plants I listened to the calls of the Black-Collared and Crested Barbets as they tried to
chase the Meyer’s Parrots from their trees and the swizzling chattering of Holub’s Golden
Weavers stripping the palm fronds for their nests.

As I took cuttings and planted what seeds I could, I listened to the soft fluty calls of the Red-
billed Firefinches that nest in my potting shed, and the loud nasal cries of the Grey Lourie as they
raided my succulent beds. I heard too the African Hoopoe scolding the approach of the insatiably
curious, boisterous and rowdy Hartlaub’s Babblers intent on digging up anything I planted. As I
weeded and cleaned I listened to the ghostly duet of the Swamp Boubou, the bubbling calls of
the skulking Senegal Coucal and the startling yell of the red-billed Spurfowl resenting my
intrusion into the more remote parts of the garden. As I stressed about watering everything
I calmed down when I listened to the African Green Pigeons and the Green Wood-Hoopoe’s
clowning in the trees, and smiled at the Arrow- marked Babblers conducting their loud
continuous low-grade tribal warfare. And as I dug and pruned and planted, as I re-potted and
cleaned and watered I was constantly attended by the sweet calls and whistles of the Kurrichane
Thrushes that haunted my footsteps in the hopes of finding food wherever I disturbed soil or
plants.

As I put away tools and stretched my back at the end of the day I heard the sunset crooning of
the various droves of fat Doves which are finally serving a purpose in falling prey to the
Verreaux’s Eagle-Owl pair that have moved onto the old African Fish Eagle nest and who
serenade us at night with their deep grunts. I heard the clicking calls of the Grey-backed
Chameroptera mourning the loss of his beautiful Bleating Bush-Warbler name. I heard the
evening calls of the Pearl-spotted and African Barred Owlets, and the raucous cries of the
Hadeda Ibis as they flew over, the lyrical whistles of the Magpie Shrikes as we waited for the night
and the disquieting fading calls of the Water Thick-knees. And I heard the goodnight murmuring
of my faithful Kurrichane Thrushes as they bedded down for the night in the lemon tree at the
back door, waiting for another day to roam around the garden with me.
And so, as I worked in my garden in glorious solitude, ears swivelling like radar dishes, I found
myself sharing my isolation with my big melodious squabbling bird family, whose antics were, and
still are, far more entertaining than watching any television soap opera you care to mention!
by Petra Strydom and Photograph by Lee Ouzman

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