The realism and the utopia

Today I came back to a statement that I used to make when discussing with overly ambitious but unrealistic people. I would tell them that during my walks in the bush, and I did many in distinct types of bushes, I could see that the baboons would go for the lizards. At a different level, the wild dogs would do the run, with extreme efficiency, to catch the impala. And the lions would focus on the kudus, a much bigger animal than the poor lizard or the gracious impala. No baboon would make any effort to do the impossible and try to catch a kudu.

My wild neighbours

It is not easy to survive in the park next to my house. The wild birds have many enemies, including the crows and the neighbourhood cats, and the rabbits keep hiding from the dogs. I haven´t seen many rabbits this spring, by the way.

Even the ducks, who are always ready for a fight, have their own problems. This year, meaning now, this is the season, only one couple has been able to bring a single duckling to life.

In view of this, you can imagine my joy when I saw this morning that the moorhen – also known as the swamp hen – that had been sitting on her eggs for many weeks in the middle of pond was now proudly looking after a brood of four little chicks.

I had feared the local turtles had eaten the eggs before hatching. It did not happen. And I thought that in the end, there is always a small victory on the side of renewal.

Crossing the desert

A lonely rooster was walking across the desert. It was a long walk under very harsh conditions. But the proud cock was, in his own judgment, no fool. He had a purpose and a destination in mind. So, he kept marching…

(Here my story is interrupted by a lady from Berlin that, in a very down-to-earth manner, adds that… then the poor fellow collapses and dies of thirst and exhaustion!).

What a finale!

In the world of this lady there is no room for out-of-the-box imagination.

Breakfast, the young lady cat

Today I got Kate's new pictures. She is so beautiful, green eyes, big and very round, a very smart look, extremely focused, and so playful. I have always loved her and the pictures today brought her back to me. Feline love, indeed.

Her first name was not Kate. Kate was the name given to her by her new masters when I left Freetown. When I got her, brought to me by one of my local close protection boys, who cared a lot about me, and my being so much alone in my house, she was just a baby cat, full of fear, nothing else. But she looked since the very beginning very intelligent and also full of energy, not withstanding her very small size. A tiny thing, very fragile, but also very alert.

I called her Breakfast. It is not a strange name for a little cat, if you take into account the circumstances surrounding her life. I knew that the day I would leave the country and leave her behind, she would end up in the pot of one my house staff.

You know , life is pretty tough out there and meat is expensive. But being so small, she could only be served as the morning meal, just to keep the staff going until the main meal would have been earned.

Before leaving the country, I ended up by finding a very good family for her.

I still remember when we had to chase her all over the compound to catch her and place her in the carrying box that would take her to the new home. She couldn't understand why we wanted to get hold of her, she had been a free girl up to then.

But she found a nice family, children and love. The pictures show very clearly she is now a good-looking lady cat. I am sure she has forgotten me, as beautiful ladies do.