Birthday Reflections

There's a whole log available, but the terrapins all want the same space

I celebrated my birthday last Thursday at Umlani Bushcamp in the Timbavati Nature Reserve. One of the highlights was a chance to spend a couple of hours on my own in a treehouse hide overlooking Marco’s Dam.

There’s something about being alone in the wilds of Africa, something precious. Not another person around, not a single dwelling, no mechanical sounds or smells. Just nature. Just you.

From my elevated perch, I looked out across the landscape and waited. Gradually my eyes took in the greater picture on the far side of the dam: a pair of African hawk eagles and a juvenile bateleur scanning for prey, a grey heron stalking the edge of the dam, a flock of guineafowl hugging the bushes for shade, a crocodile soaking up the sun’s heat.

Impala mirrors

I turned to look behind me and realised that a herd of impala had magically appeared. Slowly they made their way around the dam, grazing the short grass before slaking their thirst and giving me a chance to admire their reflections in the water. 

On the far side, a giraffe with a wonky ear ambled up and bent down awkwardly to drink her fill. So ungainly when stooping low, so regal at full stretch. Again and again, she lowered her mouth to the water then raised it up to swallow and gaze around, droplets splashing between her contorted legs. 

So ungainly, so regal

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted more movement. A male steenbok picked his way across the grassy plain, his little pointed horns carried proudly upright. It gave me a thrill to know that this secretive little creature was completely oblivious to the fact that he was being watched.

What a way to mark a birthday, surrounded by Nature’s gifts.

Mountain Song for Judy

Yesterday, August 10, dawned with a clear sky, perfect for walking in the mountains of the Fairest Cape. We decided to walk for Judy, our dear friend who loves the mountain so and would be on the slopes herself if she weren’t recovering from a major operation. Afterwards, she would be writing about her experience and showing us her wonderful photographs.  

I can’t pretend to match your talent, Judy, but I offer this song to the mountain for you.

The Vlakkenberg stands sentry on the southern side of Constantia Nek. Following a path introduced to us by you and Jannie, we climbed steadily past graceful restios and up through a forest of silver trees, their soft leaves shimmering in the gentle light of a wintry sun.

The musty forest smell of fallen leaves and the clear call of the Southern boubou awakened my senses. The pinky-mauve blossoms of the September bush vied with the bright yellow of the Aspalathus, shyly opening up to the bumble bees and butterflies. Everywhere I looked, I found hints of the spring that was coiled and waiting to burst forth.

We left the forest and steadily climbed the steep slopes towards the rocky fringe just below the summit. Suddenly, the air above our heads came alive with feathery acrobats. A flock of alpine swifts, fresh from their long migration, swooped and soared above the rockface, effortlessly dodging the hungry crows, ravens and rock kestrels. Entranced, I stood and looked upwards for several long moments, delighting in the whoosh of the wind in their wings. And then they were gone.

At the top, we found a rocky outcrop with the most perfect view over the Cape Flats and out over False Bay.  Wisps of mist still hung low over the land, but the sun was warm and welcoming. Far below, we pinpointed the red roofs of Constantiaberg Hospital and sent our thoughts and our love down to you.  I like to think that it was at about that time that you spoke those few words to your beloved Jannie and gave him such joy.

Your mountain is patiently waiting for you, dressing herself in her finery. The sugarbirds are dancing above the black-bearded proteas, their impossibly long tails trailing like ribbons on the breeze. The orange-breasted sunbirds are jealously guarding their territories, scolding those bold enough to pass near. There is no rush; she will wait. And when you are ready, Judy, she will embrace you again.