Burdie

Spring is in the air, and all the birds are starting to get warlike. Mynahs everywhere are deep in battle, and even the chirpy little brown bitties that usually fly away if you so much as look in their direction seem more aggressive. And then there are the amazingly exotic birds that appear out of the marshes near where I spend my days rotting: in school, for example. Last week my P.E. class and I were treated to the sight of a hawk floating overhead against the rosy morning clouds. People lucky enough to live in the wild country might see things like this every day, but this was a residential-industrial area in The Big City we were talking about. We had a good long stare at the hawk's underside before it disappeared into the distance, merging into the landscape above the HDB flats. And then just yesterday -- was it yesterday? -- I espied from the corner of my eye a brilliantly turquoise bolt of blue streaking across the canal outside my window and settling elegantly onto a branch. It had white-rimmed wings and David says it's a collared kingfisher. First one I had ever seen in my life. I suppose I could blame global warming for these abnormal sightings of fulsome little animals venturing into strange places, just as I can curse it for the cheerfully infernal weather we're having now, but then where's the fun in that?