How do you capture a bird that refuses to stay still? Can you force it to sit, pin it down or offer honey to lure him within reach? Is there any reason why one should resort to brute length, bait and switch or learn nothing but the power of chance and chained reactions in the pursuit of a prime collection?
Conventional wisdom cries for the early bird. But the heliconia groves that overlook the lake are not the only magnets for small, hyperactive passerines with a thirst for nectar. Water canna planted along the rim of the artificial pool rise over a mire of lilies and whorlweed. It was a breezy afternoon, a perfect storm of balm and tether of the sort that drives one to distraction with the sense of being on the brink but never over the edge.
But it was not yet time to go postal, though the reed beds on the far side were curiously bereft of the little brown ducks that would at times rest on grassy knolls or trace tight circles on wings and whistles. Neither were there any signs of cobalt from cooler climes. Instead, the evening withdrew its welcome to blow hot rays and cold gusts in the hour of gold before the gardens fade to grey and the orchard comes alive with electric dreams. There was, however, a gap in the stage filled by a crimson sunbird that dashed from the trees to sip his share of sweet Thalia juice with no regard for the hearts that raced just yards away as they robbed him of his visage and stole his soul for the most primitive of desires.
Earlier, a family of ashy tailorbirds had afforded even closer peeks into their private lives. A brace of fledglings shadowed their parent as the adult dipped under leaves and surveyed the tangled bank of a swung lake for larvae and other low-lying food. Moving like feathered mice through the Dillenia, the warblers observed few taboos of space in a corridor flanked by open bushes and occasional flashes of incandescence that filled in for an inability to keep up with the flock and a tendency to lose control and leave nothing but the heaviest of footprints.
Comments