Noloholo, Day 67: Little birds
I stick my head out of my tent early in the morning to see what the rustling noises are downslope of me, only to find myself staring at a small herd of zebra. We all freeze, eyeing each other for a minute that feels like five. Then they turn and clop off, nonchalant.
I’m so busy that every time I look up from work, several hours have gone by. My only respite has been meals, and the fact that my computer has been overheating repeatedly - every time it does, I go watch birds at the patio birdbath. I’m getting to know them now - the little seedeaters that cluster in raucous groups, chasing one another with their beaks, before dipping in with repeated feather-fluffing. They’re brave enough to crowd in even when the Ashy starlings come over, braving the 3” height difference to get a nip of water. There’s the chestnut sparrows, and the Swahili sparrows, the cutthroats with their bright slashes of red, and the pretty little cordon bleus, all bantering endlessly over who gets to jump in and when.
The leadership training is ready to go, aside from a few materials that I need to set up, and a last once-over for sanity on the script. Neo has signed off on the content as being "appropriate" and posted my schedules down in the staff kitchen. I'm not sure how well I've timed these activities, and begin to think about what I can cut or change on the fly. Either way, I’m excited.
I take to my tent immediately after dinner again, read for a while, and then lie on my back to consider the stars. One more week here. It’s not enough.
I’m so busy that every time I look up from work, several hours have gone by. My only respite has been meals, and the fact that my computer has been overheating repeatedly - every time it does, I go watch birds at the patio birdbath. I’m getting to know them now - the little seedeaters that cluster in raucous groups, chasing one another with their beaks, before dipping in with repeated feather-fluffing. They’re brave enough to crowd in even when the Ashy starlings come over, braving the 3” height difference to get a nip of water. There’s the chestnut sparrows, and the Swahili sparrows, the cutthroats with their bright slashes of red, and the pretty little cordon bleus, all bantering endlessly over who gets to jump in and when.
The leadership training is ready to go, aside from a few materials that I need to set up, and a last once-over for sanity on the script. Neo has signed off on the content as being "appropriate" and posted my schedules down in the staff kitchen. I'm not sure how well I've timed these activities, and begin to think about what I can cut or change on the fly. Either way, I’m excited.
I take to my tent immediately after dinner again, read for a while, and then lie on my back to consider the stars. One more week here. It’s not enough.