I’m not a twitcher, but I like a side serving of the dawn chorus with breakfast, well not so much dawn, luckily the birds here don’t fully find their voices till after 8am.
We’re lucky enough to have a diverse little gathering of African tits (who delight in vandalising the hibiscus), chiffchaffs, Canaries (which are actually brownish green in the wild), a shy Hoopoe (who hoops away for hours, but rarely shows him, or herself), the occasional parrots (who just squawk and fight as parrots are wont to do), and the Pavarotti of the lot, the little black cap (not his real monicker, which is something like tinto negro), who can out sing the lot.
Today a new fellow entered the fray, soaring gracefully in wide circles in the blue yonder- a fish eagle. Unfortunately, if he was looking for new territory, his quest didn’t go too well. First he had to suffer the ignominy of a dopey flock of local homing pigeons mistaking his markings for one of their own and joining him in his royal meanderings (don’t eagles eat other birds?) which obviously didn’t help with any stealthy hunting he had planned. Then he was attacked by a pair of hawks, who despite the zillion or so lizards that live hereabouts, obviously didn’t feel this particular bit of sky was big enough for the both of them and promptly saw him off. I’m sure he could have taken them and I half hoped he would puff up his chest and flash his talons in a ‘don’t mess with me, I’m the lord of the skies’ manner, but, despite having superior firepower, he didn’t rise to the bait. It seems to me that he was far too good natured to be an eagle. I hope he comes back.

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