I attended a creative writing group this week at the Honeycomb Hub, new to Gaborone. Blissfully informal, we did short writing exercises lasting just 3 minutes. New friend Sam’s inventive, off-the-cuff idea for ‘your flat mate’s father turns up on your doorstep drunk trying to persuade you to do something without your flatmate knowing’ was…
We were relaxing by the pool at a hotel when we noticed a particularly noisy weaver bird dismantling a nest; ripping this strand, that strand with such fury, that the nest fell from the tree – plop! Into the pool.
The bird’s frustration was palpable – it paced endlessly up and down alongside the deep water, where it could not go, chattering and clicking as if shouting profanities.
Our daughter eventually took pity, and jumped in to put the nest on the edge, where the angry weaver could proceed with its’ shredding.
The male weaver builds many nests, hoping for the female to choose one and become his mate. If she rejects him, he has to try again.
Guess this poor guy got rejected! We have all been there, and it hurts – human or not. Better luck next time, my feathery friend ; )