One of the peaceful spots I love to visit from time to time is a friend’s home on the water’s edge at Marina da Gama, near Muizenberg.
It’s one of those places where you can sit in the shade in quiet companionship and watch the water birds paddling about, building their nests and catching little snacks to feed their chicks. It was strangely quiet the last time I went there and it took me a few moments to realise why. There were no birds.
A coot’s nest and a grebe’s nest near the shore stood empty. Usually they are both buzzing with avian activity. But not a feather stirred. There have always been ducks nibbling about on the water’s edge. This Monday there was not a single duck to be seen. It was all rather spooky, like walking on to Cape Town’s Grand Parade and finding nobody there.
It simply can’t happen: but it had. The water in the lagoon, which is usually clear apart from a healthy crop of pond-weed, was a dirty khaki green like pea soup. Apparently an infestation of toxic algae had swept down into the marina from somewhere in the Tokai area and simply killed all aquatic life in a matter of days.
One day the lagoon was teeming with bird life and the following day there wasn’t a single bird around. They’d simply vanished. I wonder where they went. There must have been a huge migration because there were always thousands of birds in every bay and estuary. All gone now.
Is there another stretch of water where the shore people are scratching their heads in puzzlement and saying: “Hey, where the hell did all these birds come from? They weren’t here yesterday.”
I often think birds and insects have a far more disciplined system of government than we humans do.
I watch flocks of cormorants basking together on rocks, apparently minding their own business, then suddenly they all take off together and fly away in close formation.
Who is the king cormorant who gives the order? Is his leadership chosen democratically, or is it an inherited position.
A friend in Gauteng remarked recently that he hadn’t seen any butterflies in his garden this summer. This week he phoned me excitedly to say the air was suddenly filled with a vast cloud of butterflies from horizon to horizon.
Millions of them had appeared together. The Big shot Butterfly must have enormous power. What a pity our own leaders don’t seem able to instil the same kind of discipline into their people. I suppose it’s all because the birds and butterflies haven’t discovered the awesome power of money.
Last Laugh
After a day of fishing Billy packed up his fishing gear and headed for the bar. As he sipped his first beer the barman looked at him in admiration and said: “My favourite kinds of customer are hypochondriacs and fishermen.”
“I can understand fishermen,” said Billy, “but why hypochondriacs? Neither of you actually has to catch anything to be happy.”
* "Tavern of the Seas" is a daily column written in the Cape Argus by David Biggs. Biggs can be contacted at [email protected]
** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.