Category Archives: Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Making a Racket Again

“There was apparently a sighting in Harding a few years back, but it was still incredibly rare to see it here. It was also my first time seeing one.”

An example of a racket-tailed roller. PHOTO WIKIPEDIA

May 30, 2023 

There have been two phenomenal birding sightings in our area this last month. One was on a telephone line, and one was in a puddle.

I’ve been off social media for a while trying to eke out time for my many commitments as a mommy to three little people. Scrolling steals too much of that, which means I haven’t seen the South Coast Birder’s group in a while. I miss it.

Not One But Two Amazing Bird Sightings in Oribi Gorge

Anyway, the first sighting was by yours truly. A casual drive-by and a glance up at a telephone wire revealed a turquoise shimmer on a biggish little bird, undoubtedly a roller.

We get quite a few European rollers here over the summer. I love to admire these rather impressive and beautiful birds whenever they pop up. Maybe because I always used to love seeing the lilac-breasted rollers in the July holiday visits to the Kruger Park as a child. They would be shining in stunning purple and blue on top of a brown bush, a striking contrast that’s not easy to miss.

So, seeing rollers in my backyard as an adult has been rather special. But at the last minute, I saw this one jump and turn around. As it faced the other direction, I saw long tail streamers behind it, with little rounded bits on the end. I gasped a little. It was truly spectacular, but I wasn’t aware of why. I didn’t know that European rollers had long tails like that! Wow.

It turns out they don’t.

The Bird Wasn’t What I Thought It Was, But Close

I drove home, chatting to the kids, looking for reedbuck, jackal buzzards, water mongoose, and tractors like we do every day. We spied vultures above Leopard Rock. We saw a jiga duza (a Bell loader) that always gets my boys very excited.

So, when I got home and remembered to look at my birding app, I was shocked to find that what I had seen was not, in fact, a European roller at all. I wouldn’t have known that it wasn’t one of those gorgeous blue birds so common on our telephone wires in the summertime if I hadn’t driven past at the exact moment it jumped up and showed me its spindly tail.

It was a Racket-tailed Roller! And it was hundreds of kilometres south of where the map distribution indicated it should be. I couldn’t believe it.

I even messaged a birding fundi to check that I wasn’t going mad. I wasn’t. There was apparently a sighting in Harding a few years back, but it was still incredibly rare to see it here. It was also my first time seeing one ever.

Maybe, I should be travelling with my camera in the backseat instead of chattering farm boys shouting with delight at the tractors, TLBs, and cane-loading machinery we pass.

Oh, and the other sighting was by one of the farmers down the road who saw another wayward bird, the African Crake. Birder’s eat your heart out in Oribi Gorge, hey!

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Hard Working Farmers Need To Be Acknowledged

“That farmer on his motorbike in the afternoon might well be on a joyride. But he might also be having a break from the relentless calculations he has to do to manage the farm’s delicate finances on a daily basis.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

March 13, 2023

It’s common to hear people say that, in their opinion, farmers seem to do nothing much to earn the money their land brings in. That’s an understandable viewpoint from the outside. You might rent a home, work all day, and then see a farmer out on a motorbike as you pass by one afternoon. You might mistakenly think that farm life is just dandy.

Farm life is amazing when you consider the closeness to nature. There’s the raw exhilaration of carving out an existence from the earth beneath your feet. But no, there is nothing easy about the lifestyle. When you look at the bigger picture, farm life is certainly not for everyone.

Farming Has Its Ups and Downs

Do you like bugs, spiders, and snakes? South African farms have them in spades. Do you like having someone else cart away your stinky rubbish with green and blue and black bags handed to you from the municipality? Farmers have to do all of that themselves, including buy the bags.

A farmer gets up early, checks out the farm, fetches staff, sets out the day’s work, and gets everything to where it needs to be. Is the tractor full enough to plough or mow or irrigate or spray chemicals? Has a pesky pest started hatching on the macadamia trees that have taken five years of careful cultivation to even start producing one harvest?

Was the rain last night enough? If the moisture readers in the soil show it isn’t, the day’s plans might urgently change to a last-minute watering of the young tea tree seedlings or other crops. Livestock farmers are even more on the ball with checking their animals for disease, injury, complicated pregnancies and a great many other things that can go wrong.

Growing Things Means Life in the Dirt

Once the dust settles, that same farmer might be able to get home for breakfast. Or they might need to head out with a protein shake to a secondary day job (the one that keeps the family fed and clothed when the farm’s cash flow dries up as it often does).

Rain a little late or early changes the year’s yields. If the budgeted amount doesn’t quite make it, that affects the following year’s planting as well.

That farmer on his motorbike in the afternoon might well be on a joyride, but he might also be having a break from the relentless calculations he has to do to manage the farm’s delicate finances on a daily basis. You still need to pay your employees when your business is in the red. You still need to invest in future crops when the current crops are giving well below what you hoped for.

Are banana exports down? If you stop planting or maintaining your trees, your farm won’t be able to recover by the time it picks up again. If we don’t plant now, we don’t reap later. And then nobody eats at all.

We can look at our farmers and shake our heads at their quirky two-toned shirts and practical shoes. But we can’t say they don’t work hard. Go hug a farmer today and say thank you.

You might also want to offer them a line of credit if you’re sitting with extra cash in the bank.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Buzzing Into the Newer New Normal

“The summer is almost over and all these creatures will be gone for another season.”

Picture from PexelsMarch 11, 2023

It’s March again. And the ants, hornets, and wasps are in a tizz. I think if I sat in my favourite porch chair long enough, these army ants would probably carry me off into their city beneath the steps.

I’m not sure about how much research has gone into an ant’s sense of smell, but it must be incredible. One dropped piece of litchi skin under the kids table is enough to alert the whole lot of them to the feast. They march across the porch, hundreds of big black ants with reddish heads. They nip, too.

Maybe that’s why the geckos don’t pay any attention to them as they search every inch of the concrete. Or, maybe the geckos are too busy keeping out of the way of the huge female Western Natal green snake that comes to my front door on most hot afternoons. They love eating skinks, but thankfully, they’re not interested in toes.

It’s a Dog-Eat-Dog Sort of World But Snakes Don’t Eat Hornets

I do wish the snakes would eat the hornets, though. Those little brown ones with yellow stripes are so cheeky. Oribi Dad has had a couple of occasions where he’s been walking innocently past something and received several stings on the head for his troubles. And boy, does it burn.

The wasps are a little less of a problem, but they get right up in your face whenever they feel like it. You can be quietly typing away one minute and furiously swatting away at a buzzing enemy the next.

The high-pitched sound they make while they’re making their mud nests is the most annoying thing to hear. It signals that the housekeeper (me) is going to have to locate the sound, uncover the nest’s hiding place, and knock it down before it gets too big.

The black and yellow wasps love the curtain creases. The huge purple or black ones love the highest places on the lounge wall. And the mud doesn’t just fall off either. It needs scrubbing, scraping, and a lot of patience to erase all traces. If you let them get too far ahead, you also get the pleasure of knocking down a nest filled with poor paralyzed spiders – one in each compartment for a wasp baby to eat!

Well, it won’t be hot forever. The summer is almost over. All these creatures will be gone for another season. For us, the year is just getting going. There’s so much to look forward to now that the calendar is out of its COVID hibernation.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: How To Get Rid of an Uninvited Guest

“January has been busier than expected but also an exciting time of growth for our family.”

Life on the farm can be full of surprises. See that baby snake there?
February 6, 2023 

It’s still a mystery how these things happen, but life in Oribi Gorge is certainly keeping me on my toes. Last year would grind to a halt after almost a whole December of sick children and not much beach weather. But January was beckoning with new beginnings in so many areas.

Grade R. School runs. No plan to return maternity outfits. An action plan forming for feeding the bottomless pits who share my home. And I don’t mean the infuriating troop that strips my fruit trees and vines before we even get a taste.

The second week of school was going well. One of us even managed to make the parents’ meeting in the evening so that we could hear all the things we still had to organise for our eldest’s education. Big school is a lot of work for parents.

I’d left the stationery labelling to the very last minute with all the viral invaders vying for my children’s respiratory systems. I didn’t realise that sticking on over two hundred labels and covering books would be such a tedious exercise. Granted, I only had time to do it at around 9pm when I was already exhausted, but it took almost a week to finish. And that was without the plastic. (Did you know that self-sticking plastic covers are not very good at self-sticking?)

So, January has been busier than expected but also an exciting time of growth for our family. Other families seem to have grown too, including the Western Natal green snakes that live by the far porch. However, I didn’t expect to see one of their brood on my kitchen counter.

It was hiding behind the utensil bucket, right by the bread I was reaching for. At 20cm, swishing it quickly into a jug was enough for a very undramatic capture and release. The uninvited guest only needed a few prods but, like the crab, I have no idea how it even got up there. I guess one of this year’s tasks will be to investigate in case it isn’t such a harmless visitor next time.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Almost Enough To Get the Blood Boiling

“About five minutes in, I hear screams and shouts and running feet outside. “Mom, come quick!” The husband is shouting for me to come get the baby. Where is my middle child? Is it another mamba?”

Oribi Mom: Heather Lind

February 5, 2023

 

The heat draws out strange things, especially in the humans in my home. Everyone is a little grumpier, a little lazier, and with toddlers, far less covered in socially appropriate clothing.

As the jackal buzzards enjoy the thermals far above, we sit in any cool spot we can find and try to act normal. The garden doesn’t have much shade right now but my grandchildren should have a few big trees to sit under if I can help these saplings survive a few more Januaries.

Hot and Bothered Under the Collar

On one of these sweltering days, I was casually trying to dry four days’ worth of washing and get the housework under control. I heartily agreed to the husband’s request to take our three little farmboys to the pumphouse to put off the water.

Off they went for the 20 minute stroll, with the five-year-old refusing to don clothes and only wearing his costume bottoms. The two-year-old would not put on more than a nappy. And the baby would not wear a hat for more than twenty seconds.

Well, it might be worth 20 minutes of housework.

About five minutes in, I hear screams and shouts and running feet outside. “Mom, come quick!” The husband is shouting for me to come get the baby. Where is my middle child? Is it another mamba?

As I race in the direction of the gate, said middle child comes waltzing over the grass, completely naked, and not at all concerned about his mother’s worried face. Behind him is one of the farm workers who lives nearby, looking sweaty but definitely coming up to the house. What is going on?

Everybody Calm Down and Move the Wardrobe

It turns out that there was no big emergency. We needed help carrying a large piece of furniture into the house and our friendly neighbour had agreed to come in and help with the load on his way back from town. So, now we have a beautiful wardrobe in our room and I didn’t have to break any vertebrae or toes on the way. Isn’t life funny?

It’s still hot, but there’s a cool breeze blowing calm onto my porch in 2023. Maybe, it’s going to be a good year.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Make Smarter Choices

“This year, we can choose how we want to live, work and play.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

January 31, 2023

It seems like we all need a reminder this new year about the choices we have in life. For a while now, many of us have felt trapped by the after effects of pandemic regulations and all those cancelled events.

We still see those six-feet apart queue stickers on the floor at the shops. We still automatically glare at people who dare to sneeze in public. But we don’t have to be stuck with the way things are.

Why don’t we strive to make smarter choices? This year, we can choose how we want to live, work and play.

Choose To Live Differently Post-Pandemic

School is back in session and everything is open again. We can go back to church and parties. We can go back to the office fulltime if we’ve missed it or carve out new routines if we’re tired of the old ones.

We no longer have to live under the pressure of a masked world. No more pointing fingers at nostrils that can’t seem to stay hidden behind stretched fabric or reused disposable masks.

We might also want to rethink choices like where we buy or rent a home. For example, we can be smart by not buying a home near a little stream in Pietermaritzburg that has a relentless resident buff-spotted flufftail. If we can avoid this stupid decision, we can save ourselves decades of having to listen to that siren-like sound that goes all night, every night, forever. It’s even worse when it competes with frogs, dogs and car alarms.

These rare birds might be a drawcard for nature lovers. But occasionally visiting the stream is a far smarter decision than letting a little bird chip away at your sanity night after sleepless night.

Choose To Live Smarter Going Forward

We should also make smarter choices about our time this year. For instance, planting a granadilla vine that grows up every column on the porch might seem like a great natural decorating strategy. However, it turns out these vines are super messy and difficult to control.

You could spend hours hacking away, untangling, and eventually having to cut it all down without a single granadilla produced. A smarter choice would be to save time by letting it grow in a place it can go crazy without needing pruning or blocking out the sunshine (now I know!).

Whether it’s a vine or a social calendar, smart choices could save us a lot as we reorganize our priorities around busier schedules this year. Our smallest choices still count towards building our lives. The flufftail apparently enjoys droning booo-booo-booo into the darkness. We can enjoy ourselves, too.

In any case, we can choose to be better. Any step forward is progress, no matter the length of the stride.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: A Nod to the Neighbours

“There’s still room for the good old days of community doing life together out of homes and garages.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

January 15, 2023

Isn’t it crazy to think that I’ve been going to the same hairdresser for the last twenty years? I didn’t ever think I’d be old enough to have these kinds of revelations, but here we are.

She cut my hair like Jennifer Aniston when I was fifteen. At thirty-six l have to admit that it’s always been my favourite style and I keep going back to those Hollywood layers.

Neighbourly Relationships Take Time But They’re Worth It

That’s not to say we haven’t had a journey. Like the time she cut my thick hair into a bob and I realized that it was the most irritating style I could ever have chosen. It’s impossible to tie up and hangs down into my face. I also have a curl to the one side at the back that makes a bob untidy whether I’ve brushed or blow-dried it.

Then there was the time that I came home, a new bride wanting a change. Pixie cuts are fun but only if your new husband is onboard with the drastic new look! If not, there may or may not be a few days of tense staring as he grieves the long locks he married. Don’t worry; it grew back and we’re heading towards our fifteenth anniversary.

You Miss The Neighbours When They Aren’t There Anymore

We also moved overseas for a little bit to teach English. Have you ever tried to have a haircut in a fancy-looking salon where not a soul speaks English? Pointing, gestures, nods, and smiles were not quite enough to explain the details of what I needed.

That Korean hairdresser ripped my ends to shreds with a blade and charged me more than I have ever paid for a haircut. It was a long year waiting to get back to my good old neighbourhood hairdresser so that she could fix up the mess. Fifteen minutes is all she needs to work miracles that grow out beautifully and look amazing.

These things remind me how special it is to have people like this in our lives. Neighbours who are hairdressers, coffee sellers, beauticians, travelling nurses, piano teachers, educational toy entrepreneurs, frozen meal chefs, and so much more.

There’s still room for the good old days of community doing life together out of homes and garages. There’s still a good reason to chat to the neighbours over the fence and see how we can help each other. You might even find yourself twenty years down the line appreciating how far you’ve come together.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Making Mud Pies in the Rain

“I’m sure he’ll have plenty of stories to tell his grandchildren about the farmer’s wife who almost put him in a pie like Peter Rabbit’s dad.”

The non-crab pie.

November 18, 2022

I almost made a mud crab pie for supper this afternoon. It was one of those rare days that I actually had all the ingredients I wanted for a preplanned supper.

After copious cups of rooibos to get through the work day, it was time for some cooking and cleaning before the toddlers realised they were starving. This usually happens about an hour before the food is actually ready. Obviously.

Sometimes, Summer Scenes Are Really Beautiful in Oribi Gorge

A rat was scuttling around the compost heap outside. It was oblivious to the bird frenzy as new flying ants emerged for the fourth time this rainy week. There’s even a spider eating one outside the bathroom window.

The relentless Black Cuckoo hasn’t stopped calling in about three days, in the rain, and even in the dark. Mr Di-di-di Diedrick’s Cuckoo is also trying to get in his two cents as the mist rolls up our valley. Sometimes, you can’t even see the garden fence through the white blanket that covers our little farm.

I was finishing up a quick filling for some puff pastry. Ambitious for a weekday, I know. But why waste a day where the fridge is filled with fresh ingredients and there’s no loadshedding? With the rain falling on the tall-as-trees grass, it’s peaceful enough with two of three little people napping. The laundry isn’t drying but at least we have full rainwater tanks to drink for the summer.

Watch Out for Lost Crabs, Though

As I was wiping down the induction plate, my “stove”, I caught the tiniest movement out of the corner of my eye. My gaze focused, and about 10 centimetres from my hand was a crab. A big, black mud crab, waving his little eye stalks at me on top of the counter!

How on earth did he climb the cupboard? Where did he get in? Why is he so far from the stream? Does he like pie? So many questions.

Luckily, the pie was already in the oven. So, braai tongs, a short walk, and into the garden he went. I’m sure he’ll have plenty of stories to tell his grandchildren about the farmer’s wife who almost put him in a pie like Peter Rabbit’s dad.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Rainy Nights Where the Wild Things Are

“The owls were there before lockdown, and they are still eating insects on the lawn all these years later.”

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

 

November 15, 2022

It’s been a rough week. The boys aren’t sleeping through and the baby is up every two hours still. Loadshedding isn’t helping me find my groove, especially when the geyser switch keeps tripping. Rain is keeping us inside but helping our tiny macadamia trees grow.

Last night, I went to bed at 6pm with the children and fell fast asleep. At 7pm, the lights came back on and two spotted eagle owls started making a racket on the lawn. They make a sort of screeching growling sound right outside my window. Why? They’re chasing crickets!

One sits on the top of the garage playing lookout and the other one screeches and screeches while hopping awkwardly on the grass. They are hilarious to watch, running as though they had brand new shoes that were too big to go fast and waddling like they have a full nappy. They hop and bow and watch me watching them through the window. It’s too dark to video but the spotlight lets us see them in full view.

These huge birds are very impressive. And, them waking me up was a grand piece of luck. I forgot it was Wednesday and almost didn’t send in our grocery order for the weekly Thursday delivery. It’s a remnant of COVID lockdown that’s still going, and it is a lifeline to us fresh milk and bread lovers.

The owls were there before lockdown, and they are still eating insects on the lawn all these years later. I hope some things don’t change too quickly. Our little one is almost four months old already and changes every day. He’s started to giggle, and his two-year-old brother has started playschool.

Time is marching on. But hopefully the owls and all the other beautiful creatures at the farm will be unchanged when we look back on our lives here one day. They make me smile on the bad days. The farmhouse wouldn’t be the same without their summer shenanigans. And, at least they’re controlling the thriving cricket population making holes all over our lawn.

Published here.

Oribi Mom, Travelinds

Oribi Mom: Running Into Summer on the South Coast

“Summer is coming and it feels greener since the pandemic started making its exit.”

Jogging on beaches in Indonesia was often beautiful but home has less plastic rubbish. PHOTO HEATHER LIND

November 5, 2022 

I’ve started running again. Okay, let’s call it what it is: a slow jog. A very slow one after three babies and a long year.

The last time I started jogging was after Baby Number Two. I was bitten by a night adder about a month into my routine and it didn’t go so well after that. But, I’m back again, kicking up dust and looking for bird distractions up the crazy hills.

I’ve tried to catch up to the giant water mongoose that lives by the stream, but it’s too quick. I’ve snuck up to the African Pygmy Kingfisher that lives in the bank, but my cellphone camera is woefully inadequate to get a clear picture. I usually see a bright blur darting out in front of me and know I’ve missed it.

Panting Up the Hills Is Part of Running Again

It’s also a little embarrassing coming into view of one of the occasional workers in the macs. It’s about that moment you realise that you’ve been panting aloud like some old dog all the way up the hill. Did the person just on the side of the ridge wonder why an old gogo was coming up the road in the middle of nowhere?

The crowned hornbills sometimes sit at the tops of the trees and laugh at me while I pant up the steep bits. With an elevation gain of about 150 metres during the jog, the steep bits include the first 2.5km or so. If I can make it past that, I can ease up the heart rate and cruise downhill for most of the way home.

There’s one part of my regular route I’ve named Death Hill. That’s probably slightly dramatic, but it certainly makes you feel like death warmed up when you’re at the bottom of it and want to get to the highest point on the farm. If you can push through, you can turn around and have a full view of the sea in the distance, Gamalakhe next to that, and Oribi Gorge and Paddock the other way.

You can also see some of the Southern Drakensberg on clear days. The view alone is worth a little bit of sweat and embarrassing panting most days.

Jog or Run or Walk, But Get Out and See the World

I’ve jogged many places in the world, including around a tiny Indonesian island where we snorkelled with turtles every day. I’ve jogged in the Mara Triangle in Kenya and wondered about lions hidden in the grass. Now, I’m running on my farm on the South Coast and it’s just as beautiful.

Summer is coming and it feels greener since the pandemic started making its exit. Who knows, maybe we won’t even have to cancel the holidays this year.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Post-Apocalypse? No Just the Mall

“Dim lights greeted us, thanks to yet another load shedding cycle. Empty shops had papered windows and scratched off signs.”

PHOTO: Unsplash

October 25, 2022

I had a strange experience the other day. Work stuff had been tedious that day and the afternoon brought a very strong craving for fish and chips. So, we took the half-hour front into town.

After some fresh fillets and a little runaround, we went off to the mall. Why? Because that’s what rural farm people who live thirty minutes from the nearest shop must do. We tend to buy groceries whenever we come to the big city (fresh milk is such a luxury). Our family also loves the fresh smoothies on sale for R10 at our favourite fruit and veg shop. Steel straws trump the disgusting paper ones for these delicious and refreshing fruit concoctions.

Warning: these smoothies do not do well when dropped onto the floor – and they slide easily out of the baby seat in the trolley!

Anyway, with two children under five and a pregnant lady, a bathroom break is inevitable on these trips. This time we ventured into the family bathroom, the ones with the tiny toilet next to the big toilet and a low basin next to a normal one. The children think it’s a huge joke. And, at least we don’t have to make excuses for wet tyres on the car in the parking lot.

Walking through the mall was incredibly strange, though. We haven’t really been out much in two years, especially as a whole family. We let the boys have a few minutes on the jungle gym. They were the only children there!

Four years ago, we used to go weekly with our toddler and happily let him play with any other children he found. How life has changed. Now we run the other way if another person is in sight. We sanitise. We stay vigilant about where they are at all times, especially near the surfaces people lean on.

As we walked over to the final leg of the grocery shop, it was equally disturbing. Dim lights greeted us, thanks to yet another loadshedding cycle. Empty shops had papered windows and scratched off signs.

ATMs had ‘Out of Order’ pages taped onto their screens. Is this the South Coast post-apocalypse? What did we miss? Maybe we should just go back to the farm again. Though, I’m happy to say that we repeated this trip more recently and everything seemed a lot more ‘normal’.

There’s hope.

Published here.