O'er moorland and brae: And the birds two by two

The more remote the road we drive the more interesting the bird life is, too. One of our favourite sightings has been a pair of saddle-billed storks. These are extremely shy birds, not frequently seen, and our pair delicately picked their way through an isolated rock pool of shallow water searching for fish, with one eye on us as they went.

We kept seeing birds in pairs: which has become a double delight for us. One remarkable sighting was a pair of sheltered owls in a leopard tree. We have learned to scan every leopard tree we come across thoroughly--the heavy duty binoculars even come out--because leopards, too, love to rest in these trees after a kill. The spots of the bark and leopard spots seem to merge and give extra protection so they often lie sated after a kill feeling quite protected. This time, though, all we could see from the road were two tiny dark shapes. Not leopards. It took the zoom camera even to pick out their features. These owls have red tipped eyelids, black circles around their eyes, and we think they are Verreaux's Eagle Owls. Another exceptional sighting we are so proud of.

Another bird pair we sighted when we were enroute to Orpen dam was a set of Secretary Birds, about 20 metres apart. These two very large birds were out walking, dressed in office white, black and grey, looking for all the world like secretaries, particularly with their black quill-like head-feathers raised high in hunting mode. Snake. They were likely scouring the ground for snake. These birds are huge, nearly 4' tall at maturity, and can traipse the park for 20 miles a day if they need to--though they are mainly terrestrial--and when they find a snake they attempt to beat it to death with their strong feet, then hurl it in the air to stun and kill it. They have a short hooked vicious beak. All the better to eat you with, my dear. And the lipstick slash of red around their eyes seems to turn and wink at us as they cross the road at a trot, and head further into their hunt, shaking their long tail feathers at us as they go.

We frequently spied pairs of African Fish Eagle: on a dam wall, in a tree, or high on a dead branch. Often together, but far enough apart to cover more territory if needed, as they hunt together. These are large hunting eagles, somewhat like the American Bald Eagle, but what is especially hilarious about them is that for all their size and skill they are kleptomaniacs: they frequently steal their food from other birds. But they are a joy to watch as they gracefully sway and swoop over the dam water eagle-eyeing any fish they would like for themselves.

The most common bird we spied, was not in pairs, but in scores: the glossy starling. Their colour, such a brilliant sunlit turquoise shot with a glaring yellow eye, is so stupendous that their commonness is never a detraction. It is hard to take your eyes off them as they squabble for the slightest crumb left at one of the open-air picnic tables where we often found ourselves for lunch.

The other bird we loved and photographed constantly this trip was our favourite from trips long past, here and in Botswana: the Lilac Breasted Roller. These birds are all brilliant flashes of violet, blue, green, cobalt, black and white. Superb colours. They nest in holes in the tree and this trip, for the first time ever, we saw a lilac-breasted roller helplessly overseeing her nest as a reptile, similar to our Australian land mullet, lay head-resting out of her nest entrance after grazing on her baby eggs, we fear. So traumatic for mama.

Another common bird we frequently spied was the Helmeted Guinea Fowl. They were the first out, usually, scrabbling in the dirt during our very early morning drives, and often the last as we drove into the gates before lockup each night. When the sun catches the colours of their hoods they are simply spectacular.

The funniest-looking bird we spied was a single Southern Ground Hornbill. This was our first, and only sighting of this odd, large ugly, wattly-featured bird, which really is quite a massive heavy creature. It waddled in an ungainly fashion out of the bush and we brought our car to a slow halt, watching it. It stood at the side of the road wafting its wings slowly, as it eyed us coolly-- for all the world as if airing its sweaty underarms. It was not the least perturbed by us: and would likely have taken a food handout if we'd been inclined to offer one. But, no we abstained. We would like you at least to make a hunting effort, you lazy slow old hornbill.

We came across different hornbills on almost an hourly basis, and that was the more common Yellow Billed Hornbill, which the three of us labelled the stupidest bird of all in Kruger. It tended to stand on the side of the road just as our left set of tyres were about to roll over it. It had no sense of self protection whatsoever. Quite suicidal, in truth. And only at the last minute would it even attempt to move, and then ever so slowly. It would not go far, just fly to the nearest tree and turn its yellow bill and black speckled body on an angle, as if it was waiting to be photographed by us.

You are truly lucky to be alive, my friend. We very nearly hit you, and all your mates, even going the slow slow speeds that are permitted in Kruger. Stay well, you silly bird.