Tuesday, 8 May 2012
Where's the Follow Button?
A quick admin question here - can anyone tell me if the settings on Blogger have changed? I have noticed that there is no 'follow' button any more, on any of the blogs I have visited today.
Thursday, 26 April 2012
Dr. Doolittle I Presume...?
Nearly two weeks ago, while walking down to my office with Dolphie, I noticed something fluttering on the ground just in front of me. On closer inspection I realised it was a bird and on even closer inspection I deduced it was a Red Faced mousebird chick. The morning was very windy, so I think it had been blown out of it's nest. I looked up in the nearest tree to see if I could find a nest I could return it to but no such luck, and no sign of it's parents either.
Reluctantly I picked it up, put it in my handbag (where Dolphie had been only a couple of days earlier) and took it to the office where I could Google what and how to feed it.
I say reluctantly because I do not have a very good track record when it comes to hand-rearing chicks. As a child I remember frantically gathering up about 20 Weaver bird chicks which had also been blown out of their nests in a tree near our house in Mocambique. This despite my Dad telling me not to interfere with nature by allowing the bad-nest-building gene to persist. It was school holidays and my every waking moment was spent chewing bits of bread and stuffing it down constantly hungry, gaping mouths. I then had to go back to boarding school and left that delightful job to my hapless Mum who wrote to me a couple of days later to tell me they had all died mysteriously (I think the cat had something to do with it - perhaps encouraged by her?). I was devastated as only an 11 year-old can be and vowed to never try to raise a bird again.
However, despite my promise to myself, many, many years later I rescued a Verreauxs' eagle (then known as a Black eagle) chick from certain death and successfully raised that to adulthood (I released it into the wild) - a story which I will blog about at a later stage. The story of this success spread and resulted in a kindly neighbour arriving on my doorstep one windy morning (the wind has a lot to answer for), thrusting an ominous looking cardboard box into my hands, then driving off at speed before I could open the box, discover what was inside it and protest. Inside the box were two young Spotted eagle owls which I also succeeded in rearing and releasing into the wild.
Then there was Rustle Crow (he even has his own Facebook profile). My son risked life and limb, climbing up a 30m cell phone mast to rescue him before his nest (and probably Rustle too) was destroyed by maintenance workers.
But back to the mousebird. All I ever seem to be doing these days is feeding it. Every time I look, there it is, beak gaping, tail wagging and body shuddering in anticipation of some tasty morsel. And then of course there is the post-digestion process, which can become very messy, particularly when the bird is sitting on my shoulder (something I now try to discourage, unsuccessfully - the bird is very persistent)!
Food consists of chopped up bits of fruit (apple, guava, banana, tomato etc) mixed together with Pronutro into a yummy slush, which I shove down it's throat with a small pair of tweezers. Just lately it has started trying to break off pieces of fruit from chunks which I put down beside it but it prefers the lazy way of eating for now.
It became very 'tame' in a matter of minutes and shows absolutely no fear of humans at all. It took food from me at first attempt, no forcing open it's beak to shove food in - it seemed to recognise that I was now the food source and has co-operated from the beginning.
This post has taken me hours to write because of distractions from the bird, who likes to sit on my hand, twittering away in bird language while I try to type. It even decided to check out Facebook while I was writing:
While I am thrilled that it has survived this long and I haven't managed to kill it off, I am looking forward to the day when it is old enough to become self-sufficient and can fly away to be with other mousebirds. I do not understand the attraction of keeping birds as 'pets'. They should be free to fly and to interact with other birds as God intended.
Birds do not belong in cages.
Reluctantly I picked it up, put it in my handbag (where Dolphie had been only a couple of days earlier) and took it to the office where I could Google what and how to feed it.
I say reluctantly because I do not have a very good track record when it comes to hand-rearing chicks. As a child I remember frantically gathering up about 20 Weaver bird chicks which had also been blown out of their nests in a tree near our house in Mocambique. This despite my Dad telling me not to interfere with nature by allowing the bad-nest-building gene to persist. It was school holidays and my every waking moment was spent chewing bits of bread and stuffing it down constantly hungry, gaping mouths. I then had to go back to boarding school and left that delightful job to my hapless Mum who wrote to me a couple of days later to tell me they had all died mysteriously (I think the cat had something to do with it - perhaps encouraged by her?). I was devastated as only an 11 year-old can be and vowed to never try to raise a bird again.
However, despite my promise to myself, many, many years later I rescued a Verreauxs' eagle (then known as a Black eagle) chick from certain death and successfully raised that to adulthood (I released it into the wild) - a story which I will blog about at a later stage. The story of this success spread and resulted in a kindly neighbour arriving on my doorstep one windy morning (the wind has a lot to answer for), thrusting an ominous looking cardboard box into my hands, then driving off at speed before I could open the box, discover what was inside it and protest. Inside the box were two young Spotted eagle owls which I also succeeded in rearing and releasing into the wild.
Then there was Rustle Crow (he even has his own Facebook profile). My son risked life and limb, climbing up a 30m cell phone mast to rescue him before his nest (and probably Rustle too) was destroyed by maintenance workers.
But back to the mousebird. All I ever seem to be doing these days is feeding it. Every time I look, there it is, beak gaping, tail wagging and body shuddering in anticipation of some tasty morsel. And then of course there is the post-digestion process, which can become very messy, particularly when the bird is sitting on my shoulder (something I now try to discourage, unsuccessfully - the bird is very persistent)!
Food consists of chopped up bits of fruit (apple, guava, banana, tomato etc) mixed together with Pronutro into a yummy slush, which I shove down it's throat with a small pair of tweezers. Just lately it has started trying to break off pieces of fruit from chunks which I put down beside it but it prefers the lazy way of eating for now.
It became very 'tame' in a matter of minutes and shows absolutely no fear of humans at all. It took food from me at first attempt, no forcing open it's beak to shove food in - it seemed to recognise that I was now the food source and has co-operated from the beginning.
This post has taken me hours to write because of distractions from the bird, who likes to sit on my hand, twittering away in bird language while I try to type. It even decided to check out Facebook while I was writing:
While I am thrilled that it has survived this long and I haven't managed to kill it off, I am looking forward to the day when it is old enough to become self-sufficient and can fly away to be with other mousebirds. I do not understand the attraction of keeping birds as 'pets'. They should be free to fly and to interact with other birds as God intended.
Birds do not belong in cages.
The Hair Cut
Although Dolphie looked very sweet with his long hair when he arrived, I live on a farm and any walk, even a short one, resulted in me spending up to an hour afterwards pulling the grass seeds and burrs out of his fur.
I even resorted to doing this a couple of times:
But he started to get heavy, so I decided to give him a hair cut, much to his disgust. He hated the sound of the clippers and I had to hold him in my arms with the machine running for a long time before he would relax enough for me to start clipping him.
This is what he should have looked like afterwards:
Instead he looks like this:
Oh well, I'm not planning on entering him at Crufts any time soon.
I even resorted to doing this a couple of times:
But he started to get heavy, so I decided to give him a hair cut, much to his disgust. He hated the sound of the clippers and I had to hold him in my arms with the machine running for a long time before he would relax enough for me to start clipping him.
This is what he should have looked like afterwards:
Instead he looks like this:
Oh well, I'm not planning on entering him at Crufts any time soon.
Of Puppies and Potty Training
I had been surfing puppy selling sites for some months and when I came across an advert for a salt-and-pepper Miniature Schnauzer pup in Johannesburg, South Africa I could hold back no longer; I started spending money I do not have. I contacted the seller, stated my interest and started the long and intricate proceedings of importing a dog across many borders. This is not a task for the faint-hearted.
First I had to get copies of the pup's and his Mum's vet certificates, stating that the Mum was up to date with her rabies vaccination. I then had to sign an application for an import licence and send that with the certificates to the capital city which is 600km away from where I live. This had to be approved, stamped and sent back to me for forwarding to the sellers, who then had to arrange export papers from their side and get the puppy to me, via air, within seven days of the import certificate being approved. How this was achieved before the days of email and scanning machines I have no idea.
While all this was going on I had to arrange for a bank transfer to pay for the puppy and the air freight (which cost almost as much as the dog!). There was a heart-stopping moment when the seller contacted me to tell me there was a "problem with the transfer". Thoughts of internet scams ran through my head and I imagined I had become yet another victim. However, it was a simple matter of them having to sign to accept the money (something to do with South African foreign currency law. Why a country with such potential wealth needs tough currency laws is beyond me but that is Africa for you). This delayed the proceedings by only one day and on Tuesday 2nd April there I was at the airport, not-so-patiently waiting for the arrival of my fluffy bundle.
A bewildered little boy, traumatised after his long flight from Johannesburg.
Although he wormed his way into my heart within two seconds flat, it took nearly three days to come up with a name. Miniature Schnauzers have the cutest fluffy paws, the fluff even grows under their feet, between the pads, and I had wanted to name him after a Hobbit. However, I thought the name Galdalf was more suiting, so Gandalf the Grey he became. This has now of course been shortened to Dolphie and Dolphie is a gem! He is (almost) potty trained (this quaint description can be read on most dog-selling sites - I used to call it House Trained), sleeps on our bed at night - much to the chagrin of our other dogs who are relegated to the floor - and follows me around like a little shadow.
Our other dogs hated him at first, I think the smell of fear he exuded on arrival put them off. But that has now faded and they are slowly beginning to accept him as part of the family.
A very patient Uncle Spud!
Now that my children have grown up and left home it is nice to have another 'baby' in the house (without the late night feeds)...
Saturday, 17 September 2011
A Sad Week
Today I feel like I was run over by a bus. It has been a long week and I feel quite drained, emotionally and physically.
On Wednesday morning I received a Facebook message from a friend, telling me about this sad story. (it is the first story in the list). There are not many people in Banket any more and this tragedy will have affected everybody who lives there. This is an example of the lawlessness that exists in Zimbabwe and I fear that things like this will continue to happen until law and order is restored. Sadly, I believe that the 'powers that be' do not have the will to stop this criminal element; they probably encourage it (it is part of their political agenda, to remove as many white people from that country as is possible) and more and more innocent, hard-working citizens will lose their lives and their livelihoods. Murder and violence happen every day, all over the World, but when it happens to people you know it becomes personal. You feel powerless, vulnerable, angry, furious! I cannot begin to imagine the emotions the survivors and their families are experiencing right now; this will affect them for the rest of their lives.
On Wednesday evening John received a call. A long time friend and ex-neighbour was tragically killed in a freak car accident while travelling in South Africa. A one-time farmer turned trader, this man was a man of principal; he still lived on his own farm in Zimbabwe, surrounded by illegal settlers who harassed him daily with demands for money, fuel, inputs for 'their' farm, yet he steadfastly refused to compromise. He had survived several attempts on his life by these criminals: one such time his entire family were barricaded in their house while around 300 machete-wielding, drug- and alcohol-fuelled thugs tried to beat down his door - they were rescued by the brave intervention of a neighbour. It is ironic that his life came to an end in such a way. And it illustrates to me even more that fact that when it's your time, it's your time. We have no control over our lives and we cannot choose how we want to die.
My deepest sympathies to all the families affected by these tragedies - I mourn for you and with you.
On Wednesday morning I received a Facebook message from a friend, telling me about this sad story. (it is the first story in the list). There are not many people in Banket any more and this tragedy will have affected everybody who lives there. This is an example of the lawlessness that exists in Zimbabwe and I fear that things like this will continue to happen until law and order is restored. Sadly, I believe that the 'powers that be' do not have the will to stop this criminal element; they probably encourage it (it is part of their political agenda, to remove as many white people from that country as is possible) and more and more innocent, hard-working citizens will lose their lives and their livelihoods. Murder and violence happen every day, all over the World, but when it happens to people you know it becomes personal. You feel powerless, vulnerable, angry, furious! I cannot begin to imagine the emotions the survivors and their families are experiencing right now; this will affect them for the rest of their lives.
On Wednesday evening John received a call. A long time friend and ex-neighbour was tragically killed in a freak car accident while travelling in South Africa. A one-time farmer turned trader, this man was a man of principal; he still lived on his own farm in Zimbabwe, surrounded by illegal settlers who harassed him daily with demands for money, fuel, inputs for 'their' farm, yet he steadfastly refused to compromise. He had survived several attempts on his life by these criminals: one such time his entire family were barricaded in their house while around 300 machete-wielding, drug- and alcohol-fuelled thugs tried to beat down his door - they were rescued by the brave intervention of a neighbour. It is ironic that his life came to an end in such a way. And it illustrates to me even more that fact that when it's your time, it's your time. We have no control over our lives and we cannot choose how we want to die.
My deepest sympathies to all the families affected by these tragedies - I mourn for you and with you.
Thursday, 15 September 2011
Elections
My host country is holding general elections next Tuesday.
I have been watching the campaigning with interest and a little trepidation. It has been a very noisy affair and we are bombarded on a daily basis by taxis and mini-buses, decked out in their party's regalia and blasting music so loud it is distorted. Scores of dancing youths parade through the town, singing and shouting party slogans and wearing outrageous, colourful clothing. A carnival atmosphere.
What has struck me is the lack of overt aggression, something that has become the norm in my country of birth, where it is not unusual for hundreds of people to lose their lives in the violence that is inevitable in the run up to elections.
I say 'overt' because who knows what is going on deep in the rural areas, far from civilization and where there is no press? But so far I have heard no reports of violence here.
As a visitor, here on a Work Permit, I am not allowed to become involved in politics - that warning is clearly stated on my permit, as is the threat of deportation if I ignore it. I find this quite refreshing and liberating. To be honest, I don't even know the names of all the candidates, nor do I know the party policies.
What I do know is that Tuesday is a holiday and I am looking forward to that!
I have been watching the campaigning with interest and a little trepidation. It has been a very noisy affair and we are bombarded on a daily basis by taxis and mini-buses, decked out in their party's regalia and blasting music so loud it is distorted. Scores of dancing youths parade through the town, singing and shouting party slogans and wearing outrageous, colourful clothing. A carnival atmosphere.
What has struck me is the lack of overt aggression, something that has become the norm in my country of birth, where it is not unusual for hundreds of people to lose their lives in the violence that is inevitable in the run up to elections.
I say 'overt' because who knows what is going on deep in the rural areas, far from civilization and where there is no press? But so far I have heard no reports of violence here.
As a visitor, here on a Work Permit, I am not allowed to become involved in politics - that warning is clearly stated on my permit, as is the threat of deportation if I ignore it. I find this quite refreshing and liberating. To be honest, I don't even know the names of all the candidates, nor do I know the party policies.
What I do know is that Tuesday is a holiday and I am looking forward to that!
Wednesday, 27 July 2011
Cold! Brrrr
I spoke too soon about a mild winter. As news of snow storms in South Africa filter through, we are bracing ourselves for another cold snap (apparently we get our weather from South).
Yesterdays maximum and minimum temperatures were 24 and 3 degrees C - a 21 degree spread, which takes some getting used to! I grew up in a place where summer was very hot and winter was hot; now anything below 25 has me shivering and thinking of watching TV all day, cuddled up under a duvet and drinking cup after cup of steaming hot chocolate.
We do not own a TV, so the next best thing is huddled in front of my computer catching up on the news, reading blogs and of course writing my own.
Yesterdays maximum and minimum temperatures were 24 and 3 degrees C - a 21 degree spread, which takes some getting used to! I grew up in a place where summer was very hot and winter was hot; now anything below 25 has me shivering and thinking of watching TV all day, cuddled up under a duvet and drinking cup after cup of steaming hot chocolate.
We do not own a TV, so the next best thing is huddled in front of my computer catching up on the news, reading blogs and of course writing my own.
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