TO KILL A HOOPOE BIRD.
My grandaughter came running in to me the other day, slipping her
hand into mine she said "Come and see the dead bird". So l did.
She had been cleaning out 'Bone crunchers house' and found a dead
bird. It must have been there for sometime as it had lost most of its
feathers and head but retained a mummified pair of legs that looked
like a small plucked chicken! It could have been a hoopoe.
Once l did find the perfect mummified hoopoe. l found it hanging
in the cactus patch. lts crest was up and its wings were outstretched,
as if in flight. Complete with feathers. What a superb dried out bird
it was. l sent it to my nephews.
We get hoopoes here all year round. Normaly one can hear them
calling, with their hoopoe poo pooe song, hence the name. Or see
them fluttering by, with that eratic flight of theirs. They are also often
seen on the ground probing for insects with that long curved beak.
They have a pinky cinnamon plumage with dark bars on the wings,
head and tail. They also have a cockatoo crest, that flicks up and down
while it is busy. They eat insects, such as grubs, ants, worms, centipedes,
woodlice ect:
Recently a friend came to stay. He was an enthusiastic' twitcher' and
was off 'twitching' with binoculars and camera. Eventually he returned
greatly excited with a short video he had managed to 'shoot' of a hoopoe
in the orange groves. I was surprised that he had got so close to it, they
are very shy. It was a lovely little film of it walking about, its crest rising
and falling. We watched the film several times, then he left again to go
and see if it was still there.
He returned but this time handed me a beautiful dead hoope! burieh" l said
"whatever has happened"? He replied that when he had returned to the spot
he found the hoopoe was dead, it was still warm. He looked close to tears.
We inspected it and sure enough there were signs of injury to the plump
little body. Who or what had inflicted them, we were not to know. He thaught
it had been shot!
What a stunningly exotic bird. So we buried it under the geraniums and
felt sad.
One of my enduring memories of staying with you, Marley, was waking up one May morning to the sound of the beautiful, bubbling song of the hoopoe in the olive trees.
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