I used to share a workshop with a girl from Zimbawbwe, long before I had ever even thought about going to Africa on holiday, let alone living there. I said wasn’t it a scary place and she said, not half as scary as Croydon, where she had already been mugged – Twice! Me. Enlightened. I…
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 ; )