What's nest?

Friday, 16th July. Semliki Time: 07:42pm

The morning was relatively uneventful. We marched around the forest for a while, almost seeing chimps. Suffice to say, we didn’t see any. Returning early at 12:30, it was decided that we’d head out again at 5 and try our luck. I was beginning to wonder if this would be the first day I had nothing notable to write about. The most exciting things that happened between 12:30 and 5 were a snickers bar (a treasure I’d been saving) and an excruciating half-hour long craving for steak. Or lamb. Or roast beef. Or hey, I’d take a burger. I’d even take a McDonalds. JUST SOMETHING. DEAD. AND BLOODY-AS-ANYTHING, PLEASE.

…Uh. So, apart from the meat craving, nothing happened. When we finally headed out at five, however, we were more lucky. Within 20 minutes, we heard our first hoot. By 5:25 I was contentedly sitting on my back with a fantastic view of Mzee, feeding in a low hanging branch of a Cynomatra tree. I watched for an hour, lying on my back on the forest path and feeling perfectly content with the world. I even stopped dreaming of Yorkshire puddings and mint sauce. Mzee chewed saba, occasionally fixed his deep dark eyes on me and, even more occasionally, emitted a long and strangely majestic fart.

At 6:30, Mzee was off. He swung through the canopy and down the trees. We gave clumsy chase through the undergrowth, cutting ourselves on thorns. Eventually we found him standing on a large, overhanging branch over a steam. He stood and watched. Turning away from us, he climbed the tree and slowly but surely began to build a nest. Leafy branches were carefully selected, pulled taught and snapped, slowly but surely creating a leafy arboreal bed. Once Mzee was snugly tucked up, we headed for home. The sun was setting fast and only one of us had a head torch. As we raced towards the last light of the jungle day, vines crept overhead. We dodged past thick trunks and vaulted over deep ditches, pulling up outside camp just the last rays of the sunset glimmered over the hills.

Must stop writing now, dinners coming. Ah, here’s the sorghum stodge. Fifth day running. Oh! Rice is here too! And… BOWLS OF MEAT! FOUR LUMPS OF WONDERFUL MEAT. Praise be! MEAT!

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: Praise him.


P.S. Just noticed its been Tuesday on my blog for days. I feel it adds character…