Wheildon

our neighbours, anna and marcello, had the most exciting garden.  it was filled with colour and could have been featured with distinction in any garden and home magazine.

on a day, anna and marcello decided to add an exotic touch with the introduction of some golden pheasant.  these arrived and were the pride and joy of ‘mark cottage’.  it did not take long for the new additions to settle in and enjoy the pleasures of country life.  the garden was very much to their liking, and the pheasant were often seen about their business patrolling the fence.

little pheasants grow into larger pheasants so, in a short space of time, we often observed these lovely feathered friends on the wall separating our cottages.  we loved to watch them strut their stuff as we had tea on our back stoep.

now a pheasant has wings, and a bird is generally designed to fly.  one morning we spied a pheasant on the roof of our guest suite, checking the possibilities of a soft landing in our garden.  the bird touched down ever so briefly as gus (our labrador) and jemma (the jack russell) tried desperately to remove a magnificient golden tail feather as a trophy.  actually, this is a polite way of describing a near fatal attack.  the sensible bird exercised its right to life by executing a panic-stricken takeoff as gus snapped at its departing backside.  word spread through the pheasant community that our property was not a good spot for a walkabout.

one afternoon we were seated on the bench outside our front door, chatting to bobby about affairs of state, when i spied five golden pheasants on a walkabout in the market square.  the idiots were unaware that, outside of anna's garden, they were fair game for the village hounds.  i leapt to my feet to prevent the birds straying any further, alerting gus and jemma to the fact that something was on the go.  gus saw the happy family group just as i bellowed at him to “sit!”  i was a fraction late and had no hope of stopping my dog from a full-scale charge at the birds, who were now clearly uncertain of what to do.  i think the father bird said something like “oh, shit!” because the grass was peppered with it as the pheasants fled in all directions.  the largest bird flew for the sanctuary of the dutch reformed church opposite, followed by his family, followed by gus and jemma.

anna came out to see what all the fuss was about.  all the oosthuizens and anna were chasing pheasants all over the market square.  the more we yelled at the dogs, the more they thought that this was the game to end all games.  anna was desperate to save her birds.  it was like a chaotic air show without an air traffic controller.  the birds were shrieking to each other as they disappeared in every direction.  i think one or two found their way home.  from the look on gus's face i suspected that he might know the fate of at least one.

sadly, an otter visited anna and marcello via the leiwater one night.  it was the end of the pheasants.

our neighbours were not done yet, though.  some time had gone by when i invited myself over for anna's wonderful coffee and beskuit.  she was a genius in the kitchen, always trying something new.  she started manufacturing a range of cheese straws, which can now be purchased from a supermarket chain all over the country.

so i arrived on anna's stoep to find two beautiful south american macaws in a large cage.  marcello had bought them, and they were his ‘children’.  after coffee i was describing the new purchase to ginny when anna arrived in a state.  while cleaning the cage, mr macaw had flown away.  marcello was expected back late in the evening and would be distraught if anything had befallen his birds.

i said i would help.  i remembered seeing something clever in a children’s book years ago, so i made a cylindrical cage out of chicken wire and hung it in an oak tree in her garden.  below this contraption sat mrs macaw, alone and forlorn in her cage.  we could hear her mate, in a tree down on vlei street, yelling for her to join him.  anna and i hid some distance away, keeping the suspended trap just above the table on which stood the birdcage.  as the birds had not been fed, anna fetched some fresh fruit and left it just out of mrs macaw’s reach.  mrs macaw threw all her toys out of the cot and screeched like a banshee.  it was too much for her mate.  he came home to defend his missus and landed in the tree above her.  the sight of fresh fruit had the desired effect and mr macaw descended with as much dignity as he could muster.  his love of fruit had triumphed over freedom, and his wife was saved from a life of solitude.

more importantly, though, anna had been saved from facing an italian court martial.