The birders at Partridge Hill

With great expectations we prepared for the Birding Club who were arriving at the break of day at Partridge Hill. We managed to keep the mombies out of the bird baths and garden but the weather had turned cold and nasty the previous day and howling gusts of wind and a dark rain had swept over the mountains. If the mist didn't lift there would not be a bird to be seen in the Bvumba I despaired but the Gorgeous Kate assured me it would be fine.

I peered anxiously out of the window on Sunday morning and to my utter delight and relief there was a bright pink and orange sun valiantly rising. Good khama for the Birders. I rushed to the kitchen to put on the coffee but Pat was already there as he was preparing fragrant curry for lunch so I flung open the door instead to embrace the good old Bvumba air and waited for them to arrive. They soon appeared armed with their binoculars, sweaters and heavy books strung around their necks. I looked at them in admiration and rather enviously I might add, as I wished I had a snazzy pair of Swarovski's in a case to sling round my neck.

Fortunately I was allowed to join them as I am after all an aspiring birder. I have improved a great deal since Niassa days when Janee Clegg was feverishly trying to show me an illusive bird in a tree. She lent me her very special Swarovski's and as I held them to my eyes I found I could not see a thing. Janee was frantically directing me to look in-between branches and falling over herself pointing at the bird in the tree but it all looked drab and rather grey to me, no matter how hard I peered through the glasses I saw no image of a bird. It was only when she looked at me in absolute frustration and was in danger of wringing my neck that she discovered I still had the caps on the bottoms of the binoculars. I am pleased to say I did eventually spot the Vanga Flycatcher that day and Janee managed to retain most of her sanity.

With this in mind I set off with the other Birders making sure my binoculars had their caps off and hoping I wouldn't embarrass myself too much. We walked briskly scanning the bushes and trees for birds. As soon as someone spotted something I would put my binoculars to my eyes in a flurry of excitement and peer rather short sightedly in the direction everyone else was looking in, only to find it had long departed and they were already sighting something else.

You certainly have to have amazingly good eye sight to be a birder and you can't be as deaf as a post either as you have to identify all the bird calls as well. Can you imagine anyone being so clever as knowing which bird calls what when you can't even see them!. We zig zagged haphazardly round the paths with people bandying names all around me like Olive Bush Shrike, Forest Weaver, Yellow bellied Sun Bird and Red Throated Twin Spot but every time I squinted through the trees there was just the branch shaking gently where they had once perched. Undoubtedly the most energetic member of our party was Pop-eye the Pointer. He insisted on joining us and spent his time racing from one tree to the other barking madly and pointing enthusiastically to make sure every bird in the Bvumba knew we were around. Even the proteas failed to produce a bird that I could visibly see. 

To spice things up I took the birders down a massive slope to the ram pump in the river at the bottom of the garden, a constant source of intrigue and mystery to me as it operates using a very old principal of physics and was invented by a Mr. Blake. I find it so amazing, the fact that it can pump water just using gravity without electricity or diesel all the way from the river right up to the house. The Birders I am pleased to say took a keen interest in my ram pump and gazed at this incredible invention in stunned fascination as it pumped away, while I looked on fondly like a proud parent. Breathlessly,we staggered back up the slope which seriously tested the Birders lungs and legs and continued with our viewing. I am delighted to inform you as Pop-eye ran through my legs tipping me over he managed to flush a cinnamon dove out of a bush and I had my first sighting of a bird that morning even though it was from a horizontal position. Pop-eye then disappeared round a corner at a frantic gallop only to get caught in a snare but with so many helping hands he was soon released and carried on undaunted. It was a wonderful morning and so interesting to be around such enthusiastic people in these very troubled times. 

So this email is dedicated to Mutare's Happy Band of Wonderful Birders and to Spero Landos who is finally out on bail. Enthusiasm is the yeast that makes your hope rise to the stars from the poem by Walter Chrysler. ( I don't know what it means either it just sounds good) And on that very inspirational note much love as always from the intrepid birder Mandy Retzlaff. 

Mandy Retzlaff
Bvumba
Zimbabwe