the early dark
The land of sudden evenings.
I’ve been on a brief visit to KwaZulu-Natal, a part of South Africa both familiar and not – like being back in the company of a mildly notorious uncle you saw infrequently as a child. Here, afternoon turns to night a lot earlier and more abruptly than in Cape Town (which is in the same time zone but much further westwards).
A couple of times, more maybe, I’ve heard one of my favourite bird calls — issued from the distant, invisible throats of a pair of duetting black-collared barbets. Their call has the urgency and intensity of a melancholy welcome – or a well-meant warning.
This is the latest in a sequence of irregular Field Notes from a swimming pool library.
