O thrice-accursed rule that forbids us from carrying cameras into camp.
I have had the greatest privilege of being in a less-built up area of Singapore, where trees are plentiful and the air is cool. On my daily sojourns to camp and back, and even within the camp compound itself, i have been blessed in observing the wonders of creation practically at an arm's length.
I was walking. An innocuous activity. I heard a hooting, and marvelled that that owl was up so early, it being only 6pm. Curiosity piqued, i peered into the trees, searching for the source of the sound.
Seeing as there was but a single row of trees in my immediate vicinity, i plodded along it, discerning by triangulation the exact tree from which the sound emanated. Eyeballs straining at their sockets, i sought to see the surreptitious songbird silhouetted against the evening sky. And behold, i beheld it. And it was sitting on a branch. And shaped seemingly like a dove. Only by the nearly imperceptible motion of its beak did i identify it as the mystery singer, carrying on an avian conversation with another dove some distance away. it really did sound like a conversation, one bird saying something, and receiving a response some moments later. i was fascinated. the soft yellow light from the dying rays of the sun did little to dispel the magic of that moment, giving the creature a certain golden hue. my flab was bergasted (i mean i was flabbergasted). i have also mentally reclassified that particular sound as a "coo", as opposed to a "hoot"
minutes before that, i saw a beautiful bright blue kingfisher swoop straight into a little crevice in a wall, for reasons unbeknownst to my mammalian brain.
this morning, i saw what seemed to be a kingfisher, complete with disproportionate tail and beak. it was trilling. i found it quite... thrilling. normal bird twittering is just so uninspiring.
and there is absolutely no real point to this post. owell, they can't ALL be gems.
