Breeding IN THE bushveld

Pearl-spotted Owlets

- KEVIN MCDONALD

It was spring in the Lowveld. Dawn was breaking earlier each day and the Yellow-billed Kites were back from their winter wanderings. Despite the general dryness of the place, trees were flowering on cue. Weeping boerbeans dripped with red blossoms and tree wisterias splashed their purple mantles over the landscape, while the knobthorns erupted in clouds of cream-coloured exuberance that had you either sneezing incessantly or gasping with delight. In our residential estate outside Hoedspruit, Limpopo, natural vegetation is left intact and homes nestle among the trees.

But not all the trees were dressed in flowers or leaves. In fact most, like the marulas, had yet to produce any cover for their bare branches and on an afternoon in early September that played to my advantage. Sitting at my computer, I heard a distant but familiar piping call from the bush outside. It was a Pearlspotted Owlet Glaucidium perlatum sharing its bold crescendo with the world. Deciding to see if I could locate the source of the call, I grabbed my camera and forced a path through the sickle bush outside our house. There, in a sudden clearing, I saw a small brown lump perched on an exposed branch. One of Africa's smallest owls had rewarded my search.

After taking a few photographs, I realised that I needed a different lens. Reluctantly I decided to take the chance of leaving the bird in the hope that it would stay put until I returned, better armed. It did. Once again I could click away happily, but only until I moved too close and the bird took flight. Fortunately it landed in a bare marula tree only 20 metres away, so I edged closer, determined not to scare it off again.