My Meerhof morning

This morning was no different to most weekday mornings; woken by the brash alarm, drank barley green, made Rose coffee, laid out the breakfast and then headed out for a walk.

Being an almost full moon this morning the lack of sunlight was not a problem and the sight of the icy white ball in the west was awesome. I look forward to my morning walk because I am naturally a "morning person" but this added lunar bonus raised my spirits a notch.

I walk a variety of routes through Meerhof which I have measured to be roughly 4 kilometres and that take me about 40 minutes to complete. Because I leave at about the same time every day I bump into the same people heading out to work or taking a walk. Occasionally there are joggers and cyclists too. I sometimes think how each person I bump into and greet with a good morning or, more often the Afrikaans equivalent gooie môre are able to appear on cue, as if choreographed to appear at the same spot each morning. We are all creatures of habit I suppose. Sometimes I imagine I am walking in some romantic Italian city that I would like to visit again but mostly I enjoy the exercise in the fresh morning air and the occasional surprise offered by nature and my fellow early birds.

One morning I nearly bumped, literally into a porcupine returning from his or her nightly prowl. It wasn't aggressive but did rattle its quills at me to make sure I noticed it, even though it was at least a metre tall. Other mornings I see huge flocks of bee eaters leaving some tree where they have roosted overnight drawing attention to themselves with their characteristic calls. Hadedas are predictable in that they always make a racket as I walk past them, stabbing their long beaks into the lush lawns or perching quite skilfully, I think on the telephone lines. I wonder if the late risers notice the noise and are annoyed by it, but I think they would have made a racket anyway even if I hadn't walked past because that's what they do. If I follow the waterfront I might see and will certainly hear the fish eagles making their iconic call that has become the signature in any radio advert where the African outdoors is the mental image the advertiser is trying to project. 

Hadeda

Bush baby

Very occasionally I have been lucky enough to see a nag apie or bush baby as they hop along the telephone wires in long leaps, many times the length of their body, never missing the line when they land and eventually finding their daytime refuge in a large palm tree. 

On the way home I am normally treated to a sunrise of varying degrees of beauty; this morning wasn't necessarily a disappointment but was just a gradual transition from dark to light because there were no clouds to refract the light. The most beautiful sunrises happen when there is a scattering of clouds close to the horizon and then I am treated, for the last stretch walking due east to the very best that nature can provide.

Although my walk is a part of my hum drum daily routine I hope the small group of family and friends who read this will find it interesting and worth their time.