Wowwed by Amanzimtoti’s bird life

EDITOR – My wife and I exchanged the wintry grey of Pretoria for the sunny shores of the Sapphire Coast in mid-2006.

We fell in love with Toti almost immediately.

Not only was it a pleasure to be suddenly surrounded by greenery, in wintertime, but I also became very aware for the first time in my life, of the wonderful world of birds.

In Pretoria, birds were to me those little grey-and-brown things which would flutter away as soon I opened my front door in the morning. Then, half a second later, they would completely fade from my lawn and my awareness.

However, apparently annoyed at my daily disregard for their early morning worm hunt, they would return to my awareness early on Saturday mornings with relentlessly loud and cheerful chirping, seemingly custom-designed to ruin a leisurely lie-in especially if the previous Friday night had been a late one.

Thus, as you can see, birds were to me little more than dream disrupters. They were fouler-uppers of car windscreens; pesky polluters and alarm-clock-nullifying nuisances.

I didn’t get birds.

Then we moved into our new house in Amanzimtoti, and the wonderful world of the avian wildlife in our midst announced itself to me.

And what a delight it has been ever since.

It all started one morning when I became aware of the captivating ‘kok-kok-kok-kok-kok’ of the purple-crested turaco (bloukuifloerie). I had never heard this strangely perplexing sound before in my life. “What was that?” I thought. The sounds seemed to be coming from all around our house, as if some hidden welcome party was surrounding us and proclaiming our arrival with a feathery glee.

My interest was piqued; I had to know more. I started scanning the skies and the treetops, day after day, hoping for a glimpse of these shy creatures.

My efforts were soon rewarded. I’ll never forget the first time I saw the brilliant flash of red wing that they exhibit in flight. I felt as if I had been let in to some magnificent secret. I was hooked.

So, I bought a couple of bird books and started to scan the skies with renewed enthusiasm. This was great – an ‘outside’ hobby that costs almost nothing and can be enjoyed from the comfort of my own home. This held a tremendous appeal for my sloth-like nature. I could now sit on my own little balcony and, armed with ‘Newmans’ Birds’, a pair of binoculars and a glass of chardonnay, the sky was the limit. This, of course, also had the added advantage of elevating my status from couch potato to patio potato. No lazing about indoors for me anymore. I was out and about doing things, thank you very much.

The first discovery I made, from my new bird-balcony, was the family of bulbuls which comes to roost, every evening, in a dense bit of shrubbery which obscures my across-the-road neighbour’s house. They come darting about, happily flitting hither and thither in a display of seemingly playful end-of-the-day contentment. Somehow these peculiar little birds always seem to lift my spirits. Maybe it’s because of the jaunty bits of yellow under their tails. Who knows?

Next, my wife and I became aware of our resident African fish eagle. Saturdays and Sundays always seem better somehow when he puts in an appearance and circles our neighbourhood with his characteristic call.

I could go on and on about the discoveries we have made since, but they are simply too many to mention. I urge you, the reader, to look at your surroundings with fresh eyes. There is a fantastic world in our midst and it is an absolute pleasure to observe.

Whether you marvel at the enormous chattering of red-winged starlings, which gathers raucously at L’Escalier flats sometimes, the sprightly bronze mannikins, which swoop in and out of the veranda at 305 Ipahla Guesthouse, the pelicans and woolly-necked storks near the river mouth or even those ubiquitously noisy, pterodactyl-like hadedas, you will always see something to admire and appreciate in our winged neighbours.

So, dust off your binoculars, download a good SA bird app, keep your eyes peeled and take in our beautiful bird life.

You’ll be glad you did.

DANIEL DU TOIT