Memorable moments: The three great twitches

In the birding community, those of us who obsessively pursue rare or elusive species are often known as "twitchers." The name comes from a very real, very physical phenomenon. When you finally spot a bird you’ve spent years searching for, a wave of intense excitement hits you. You raise your binoculars to your eyes, but the surge of adrenaline is so overwhelming that a tremor sets in. Your arms begin to shake, and sometimes the twitching spreads through your entire body. It is an extraordinary reaction that has to be experienced to be believed.

Over a lifetime of scanning treetops and riverbanks, I like to say that I have only truly twitched three times.

The first was in the lush wilderness of Ndumu, when I caught a sudden, violent flash of crimson through the canopy—the rare and breathtaking Narina Trogon.

The second was also in Ndumu, when my binoculars landed on the distinctive rufous face of the elusive Pel's Fishing Owl perched silently above the water.

And the third, most unforgettable twitch occurred along the banks of the Palmiet River.

Shortly after meeting Ally and her group of friends, a bunch of us went down to the river for a late-night, moonlit skinny dip. As everyone scrambled into the cool water, I caught a sudden, distinct sight of Ally’s white rump disappearing into the shadows of the river.

Right then and there, the classic birder’s tremor set in. My body began to twitch, and a single, crystal-clear thought echoed through my mind: Wow, I’m going to marry that girl.

I didn't need binoculars for that last sighting, but the instinct was spot on. We ended up spending seventeen wonderful years together—proving that sometimes, the rarest and most life-changing sightings aren't hiding high up in the trees at all.

Memorable moments: The vulture and the rookie

During my final years of school, I developed a consuming passion for bird watching. It was ignited by my close friend Tony Verboom, an expert birder who introduced me to the gritty reality of the craft. We spent our mornings at Rietvlei, crawling on our bellies through knee-deep mud, getting thoroughly filthy in pursuit of "lesser-spotted thing-a-me-bobs." I loved every second of it—especially the moment a magnificent Osprey banked over our heads, sealing my fate as a "twitcher."

From then on, I lived and breathed birds, cycling to local wetlands every weekend to increase my "life list."

Shortly after I started, while I was still very much a novice, Tony and I spotted a large bird drifting in the distant Cape sky. Tony gasped in genuine shock. "My God, it’s a Cape Vulture!" He was ecstatic; Cape Vultures hadn't been recorded in the Peninsula for sixty years. Tony was so convinced that he wrote a formal report for the Cape Bird Club newsletter.

When the article was published, I saw my name in print for the first time: Verified by Tony Verboom and fellow spotter, Graeme Myburgh. I felt a wave of hot embarrassment. I was a beginner; I just hoped the veteran birders wouldn't realize that my "verification" carried about as much weight as a sparrow’s feather. I lived in fear of blowing Tony’s credibility.

The moment of truth came during a Bird Club weekend trip to Swellendam. Tony couldn't make it, so I carpooled with the Chairman of the club, a friendly, high-level expert named Jan. As we drove, Jan mentioned the newsletter. "Extraordinary sighting, that vulture," he said. I nodded, trying to look like a man who knew his raptors.

I was obsessed with seeing a Black Harrier on that trip. I had them on the brain. Suddenly, I saw a large, black-and-white shape perched on a power line.

"Oh my God, stop!" I cried. "Black Harrier!"

Jan slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt, dust billowing around us. He leaned out, binoculars raised, squinting at the bird. He looked confused, then slowly turned to me.

"Graeme," he said gently, "that’s a Pied Crow."

It was one of the most common birds in the Western Cape. Even a rank amateur knows a crow from a harrier, but my wishful thinking had performed a mid-air transformation. I sat there in the settling dust, mortified. I was certain I had just blown the credibility of Tony’s legendary vulture sighting to smithereens in a single, caffeinated outburst.

Thankfully, Jan was a man of immense patience and quiet grace. He didn't mock me or question the vulture article; he simply shifted back into gear and drove on. We had a marvelous weekend of birding, and while the Black Harrier never made an appearance, I learned a vital lesson: in the bush, as in life, you have to see what’s actually there, not just what you’re desperate to find.

Memorable moments: The rose and the bromance

It’s amazing to think how the most important friendship of my life began. At the start of my final year at university, I had just started dating Ally. We were completely smitten, spending every spare moment together.

But I wasn't the only one who noticed her.

Every day, as Ally sat on the Jamie Steps at UCT, a charming, quirky guy named Russell would approach her and gallantly present her with a single rose. He was persistent, funny, and utterly unique. Ally was flattered, but eventually, she had to break the news: "I'm sorry, I have a boyfriend."

Russell, being the gentleman he is, backed off immediately, but he and Ally remained friendly. Then, the day came when I finally met the man who had been "wooing" my girlfriend.

I didn't feel a shred of jealousy. Instead, I immediately fell for him.

He was hilarious, adventurous, and possessed a spark of madness that matched my own. Our "bromance" was instantaneous. Ally and I stayed together for the next seventeen years, and throughout that time, Russell was the third pillar of our lives. He even moved in as our housemate for several years—a period I still count among the most enjoyable and laughter-filled times of my life.

Ally and I eventually went our separate ways in 2009, but my bond with Russell remained unshakable. Even now, living in different countries, our friendship is priceless. Whenever I return home to visit family, we don't just "catch up" over coffee; we disappear into the mountains or head off on some new adventure, picking up exactly where we left off on the Jamie Steps.

Memorable moments: The Kleinmond interruption

I met my future wife to be, Ally, in the tiny village of Kleinmond, two hours outside of Cape Town. We were camped on opposite sides of a rusty old fence, but by the final night, the "spark" between us was undeniable—aided, in no small part, by the generous flow of alcohol around the communal braai.

Ally was playful. She spontaneously bit my earlobe, and when I warned her of the "consequences," she promptly did it again. I moved in for the clinch.

Now, I consider myself a very capable kisser. I was fully prepared for Ally to swoon, to be consumed by the moment, and to forget the rest of the world existed. For a few seconds, it seemed to be working perfectly.

Then, without warning, she detached herself from my embrace. She didn't look at me. Instead, she leaned toward her friend sitting a few feet away.

"Colleen," she announced firmly, "I must butt in and disagree with what you’ve been saying. I think that..."

I stood there, mid-clinch, abandoned for a theological or political debate I hadn't even realized was happening. My confidence didn't just take a hit; it did a backflip into the campfire.

Ally eventually blamed the alcohol, and I eventually forgave the rebuttal. We went on to spend 17 wonderful years together, but I made sure to check for nearby debates before every kiss from then on.

Pure nostalgia: Discovering the joys of birding (1987 - 1989)

During my last couple of years at school, I developed a really strong passion for bird watching.  This was first ignited by Tony Verboom, a very close school friend of mine, who took me off on one of his birding trips. We spent the morning at Rietvlei, a local wetland, crawling on our bellies, getting knee deep in mud and thoroughly filthy in our pursuit of lesser spotted thing-a-me-bobs.  And I absolutely loved every minute of it, especially when a beautiful osprey flew over our heads.  

My love of birds was kindled into a passion shortly after when dad and I went camping to Uilenkraal. I lay in the sand by the lagoon, with close views of gulls, terns and pied kingfishers. Later, to my utter delight, an African Fish Eagle appeared in the distance.

From then on, I lived and dreamed birds and cycled to the local birding spots every weekend in pursuit of new species (or ticks as we call them) in order to increase my  life list. My favourite birding haunts included Rondevlei, Kirstenbosch Gardens and Devil's Peak.

Another favourite haunt was the Harold Botanical Gardens in Betties Bay for wonderful encounters with sunbirds and Ground Woodpeckers.

I also joined the Cape Town bird club. I loved the monthly get-togethers at the University of Cape Town to see presentations and amazing photos from people like Nico Myburgh. I remember vividly a wonderful weekend with the club at Swellendam.

In Std 9, I went on an unforgettable trip to Botswana (Okovango Delta and Chobe) where I saw birds like Gymnogene and Jacana.  Our family also went to Natal including Midmar Dam and the Drakensberg, where I saw lots of new birds.

Dad really supported my hobby. He and I went on an incredible trip to Zululand (Umfolozi and Mkuzi wildlife reserves) where I saw many birds.  My favourite memory is attracting a Green Coucal by playing its call on my tape recorder.

In matric, I went to Kruger National Park with a Colin, a close friend. I also went back to Zululand with Tony and his mum (Ndumu and Mkuzi) where I saw Pel's Fishing Owl and Narina Trogon.

They call us birds "twitchers" because when we see exciting new birds for the first time, we get so excited that our legs start to twitch and then our arms - so much so that it becomes hard to see through our binoculars. 

Since my school days, birding has continued to be a passion and I have travelled the world in search of new ticks.  My goal when I was young was to see 1000 birds in the wild.  In 2007 at the age of 37, I achieved this target.

Memorable birds seen during this time

Redbreasted Sparrow Hawk, with Tony, on a school camp a few years before

Black Eagle, slopes of Devil's Peak

Pied Kingfisher

Malachite Kingfisher, Rondevlei

Sandwich Tern, Uilenskraal

Curlew Sandpiper, Uilenskraal

Blacksmith Plover

Fish Eagle, Uilenskraal

Blackshouldered Kite, Rondebosch Common

Diederich Cuckoo, our garden

Little Bittern, Rondevlei

Burchell's Cuckoo

Orange-breasted Sunbird, Kirstenbosch

Cape Batis, Kirstenbosch

Ground Woodpecker, Harold Botanical Garden

Spotted Eagle Owl

Half Collared Kingfisher, Natal

Crowned Eagle, with Tony, Natal

Palmnut Vulture with Tony, Natal

Narina Trogon, Ndumu

African Rail

Green Coucal, with dad, Mkuzi

Pel's Fishing Owl, with Tony, Ndumu

African Finfoot, Nature's Valley

European Bee-eater

Favourite bird books

 

My first spiritual song

 

I created my first spiritual song with Suno, inspired by a poem I wrote in 2021.

Right now

Right now I Am…

   soaring high on outstretched wings

   opening my petals to the morning sun

   scurrying through a termite cathedral

  spinning an intricate web of silk

   trumpeting through an upturned trunk

   laying eggs in a little pond

   picking nits from my lover’s fur

   probing the damp soil with my spindly roots

   singing a duet through a twittering beak

   galloping along on mud-spattered hooves

   surfing waves with gleeful squeaks

   gazing out meditatively with large, luminous eyes

   stretching my branches up and out into the vast, open sky

   smelling for truffles with my sensitive, pink snout

   probing a hole in the rocks with a nimble tentacle

   paddling along a stream with powerful kicks

   hungrily sucking warm milk from my mother’s teat

   searching the ocean bed in search of a larger shell to call home

   charging headlong into the horns of another with a mighty clash

   licking my paws with a raspy tongue

   wriggling this way and that to shed my scaly skin

   breathing in air through my damp, permeable membrane

   bobbing up and down in an intricate dance with my life-long mate

   cutting the water with my dorsal fin

   rising up on thrusting haunches in orgasmic release

   stalking stealthily in pursuit of unsuspecting prey

   enclosing my young one in a protective embrace of flippers and feet

   staring patiently at the water with my rapier like bill ready to strike

   wagging my tail in unrestrained welcome

   sharing a belly-laugh with a beloved friend

   staring in wonder at a crimson sunset

   shedding grief-stricken tears at an untimely loss

   typing this poem with clumsy fingers and an open heart

All these things I, the Cosmic Mind,  experience in the timeless Now

and a quintillion quintillion more things

across countless different worlds and dimensions.

All experiences past, present, and future

exploding forth as pure perception from the Singularity I Am,

the Infinite Awareness I Am,

in a great, exultant cosmic bang,

creating the ultimate immersive, experiential work of art,

wondrous and beautiful,

epic and profound,

beyond all imagination.

My first song: A song I created for mum with help from Suno

I've always wanted to be able to create special songs for people I love. Now it's possible. I'm so excited about it.

     

Thank You, Mum

Verse 1

Thank you for the gift of life,

For saying I was the cutest child alive.

For midnight cries and sleepless nights,

And for flying through my endless whines.

You gave me Jo, the best of friends,

A sister whose love will never end.

For crayon walls and sticky hands,

You still believed I’d do great things someday.

Chorus

Thank you, Mum — for everything and more,

For love that built the man I’ve become.

For the laughter, the care, the open door,

You’re my heart, my home — my mum.

Oh, thank you, Mum — for all you’ve done,

For the light you are, my only one.

Verse 2

For the ice creams, camping nights, and sea,

For every photo, memory, and melody.

For every toy, from Lego dreams

To roller skates and old machines.

For Sunday mornings under the sheets,

Your warmth was home, your smile complete.

For gentle words when I lost my way,

You helped me find my brighter day.

Bridge

For poems, pets, and birthdays bright,

For feeding hearts and appetites.

For roast beef, trifle, chocolate cold,

For teaching joy that never grows old.

For typing essays late at night,

And saying, “You’ll be fine, all right.”

For courage when Dad had gone away,

You held the sky and faced each day.

Verse 3

For Christmas smells and Easter treats,

For gentle talks and steady beats.

For all your love through highs and lows,

For giving space so I could grow.

For photos, calls, and midnight chats,

And every laugh we’ve shared like that.

For being you — so true, so kind,

The best mum any soul could find.

Final Chorus

Thank you, Mum — for everything and more,

For love that built the man I’ve become.

For the laughter, the care, the open door,

You’re my heart, my home — my mum.

Oh, thank you, Mum — for all you’ve done,

For the light you are, my only one.

Tag

Thank you for being exactly you,

I love you — always, and a day too.

Suno

There’s something quietly magical about using Suno—like being handed a doorway into a lifelong dream. I’ve always wanted to create songs, but never had the musical training or tools to do it. Now, with just a few words, melodies begin to form, voices emerge, and fully realised songs take shape out of thin air.

My first experience of riding an e-bike

There are an unusual number of e-bikes around Waverton at the moment. You activate and rent them with your phone. As an experiment, I cycled from my home to Woolworths, a 15 minute walk but a very fast cycle. It cost $5. I was amazed by the power of the motor, it makes going up hills an absolute breeze.

I won't be using these bikes much as I love to walk and why pay?  But a great experience, and nice to know I have this option if I am ever running late!

Bye bye dear Car

Thank you, you served me well 💙

In loving memory of Mack (2004 - 2023)

Mackie passed away a couple of days ago, just two months shy of his remarkable 19th birthday.

It's hard to put into words what it meant to share so many years with such an extraordinary soul. 

The lessons Mack taught me are imprinted on my heart:

• His constant display of unconditional love, shared abundantly and wholeheartedly.
• The priceless bond of true companionship and heartfelt connection.
• His transparent emotions, ever evident in his joyful tail wags and earnest eyes.
• The simple warmth of snuggling close, or just resting his head on a knee, shoulder or comforting lap. 
• The wisdom in his intent listening, reminding me that not every silence needs filling.
•  His ability to be wholly present, savoring every sound and scent during our walks.
•  The immense exuberance he found in fun, playful pleasures, even if was simply chasing after a ball.
•  Just how high you can leap if you put your mind to it, especially if you’re chasing after a tantalising rodent.
•  The importance of having boundaries, especially if your space is invaded by an overly spirited yapper snapper !
•  The living embodiment of virtues like patience, adaptability, curiosity, wonder, loyalty, trust, enthusiasm, alertness, forgiveness, and countless others.

Mackie was ready to go but the void left by his absence is profound. I’ve been doing lots of walking around Waverton to help process my sadness and every path I take is suffused with memories of Mackie, sniffing at every bush and lifting his leg to mark his favourite spots. I’ve had some beautiful cries, and its been a much needed release.

A heartfelt thanks to those who had a particularly special connection with Mack and helped enrich his life: Ally, Liza, Jasper, Chris, Yogi, Srini, Xenia, Shushann, Sharon, Martin, Matt, Sue & Alex, Dani, Lizzy, Chrisel, Russell, Elna, Jilly.

Mack, until our paths intertwine once more. The anticipation of our reunion brings visions of jubilant tail wags, playful dances, and exuberant panting. No doubt, Mackie will show signs of excitement too 🙂

Rest in peace, dear Mackie

To Liza

We had a beautiful get together at The Botanica yesterday. So many memories to share and everyone was very loving and supportive. Shushann brought beautiful Anush who I have a special connection with and she settled at my feet the whole time, as if she knew I needed solace.  It was all so bitter sweet.  I kept looking at Mackie's chair, where he used to snuggle into his blanket and pervade the scene, and it was empty.  The staff at The Botanica were so crestfallen to hear about Mack. And Steve and Vula, too, who run the Waverton Grocer. For such a little thing, Mack featured so large in Waverton. His loss is  being felt by all the people who knew him and loved him.

The most support I'm getting is from people who've also lost doggie soul mates. Jane, who was there yesterday, lost 17 year old Harry last year. And Heather in South Africa lost 21 year old Sally a while ago too. They both spoke about the crushing emptiness and loss that they felt and still feel from time to time, enough still to bring them to tears.

I've been doing a lot of walking in Waverton as it helps to process and settle the grief. Every path I take is pervaded by the memory of Mack sniffing shrubs and cocking his leg every 10 metres or so. I've had some really strong cries on the walks, and it feels good to do it.

From Liza

• I can recall every photo you forwarded of Mack at Botanica, and it was very, very clear he loved beyond measure being there, being with you there, and being with you and Chris there. It was always so truly delightful to experience Mack's enjoyment of sniffing, caressing plants, marking his spots etc.
• I genuinely hope you do really well in processing your grief, and recalling happy times Graeme. Mack loved you very, very much and for sure loved his home with you; I adored every photo of him on HIS balcony when he was a heat seeking doggie. I'm not able to recall any thing much just now but, for me, there won't be a doggie companion, as special, ever. Mack is, was, remarkable in so many ways. I feel proud of him, and of my contribution to his life Graeme. Meeting him with Mum on my birthday was an amazing thing, and there has not been a day I have not loved Mackee since. 
• For Jasper and I there was not a day we didn't look forward to Mack's arrival.  I loved his enjoyment, as an old fella, of night walks, his sniffing the ground and air; for month's now that was early mornings and as soon as the sun set. 

From Chris

So, So Beautiful Graeme. Now that is friendship. That is love. And you shared him with us all. You had a little engine of joy there.  He is a fond memory in many peoples minds, but I somehow imagine that in the big scheme of things when little Mackee was choosing which  human, he chose you and he was a winner.

Dear Liza. Our precious little friend has gone, but what a friend he had in you. I must say I have never seen such a beautiful connection between a dog and a human than between dear little Mackee and you.  You made him feel so special. Thank you for sharing him with me for some enjoyable times. I will miss him too. Take care. Wishing you all the best. 

From Ally

Hey G, was just calling to say how sorry I was to hear about Mack. What a lovely tribute to him - totally had me in tears!! He was one of the most special little souls and he will live in our memory and hearts forever. I am so glad you got to spend so much time with him.  I truly hope you are okay.  Sending you a special hug and love 💙

From Shushann

Ohh dear Graeme just read your beautiful piece on Mack. It has brought floods of tears. Sending you blessings and love over this heartbreaking but unavoidable letting go of our beloved fur babies. Until you meet again. Somewhere over the rainbow🙏🏽🧡🌈

Oh my goodness the photos were stunning. They could be a book in themselves. They tell many wonderful stories.

From Yogi

Sorry to hear your sad news. Mackie Boy was an exceptional dog - what great mates you were!  He gave you so much joy, & vice versa. He lives on, forever young, in your blog. 

From Srini

This message was sent by Srini from a mountain hike shortly after Mack passed away. Amazingly, he had no knowledge that Mack had gone. It was one of those beautiful synchronicities and deeply comforted me.

Richard

Shirley

Facebook condolences

Mackie turns 18 !!

 Liza made some wonderful birthday things like cupcakes to celebrate.

Our Arctic trip is in the news

Our story featuring some of my photos appeared in the New York Post, The Australian and News.com.au today.  Very cool.

New York Post 

See the article

On News.com.au and The Australian

The Australian article

News.com.au article

Getting my first mirrorless camera: A Canon R5

I bought this amazing camera to take with me to The Arctic thanks to the generosity of a cash gift from Michael in tribute to Sue.  I was absolutely blown away by the camera, especially by it's incredible face recognition and eye tracking. It automatically focuses in on the eye of an animal or bird, allowing you to concentrate on the composure of the shot instead. It allowed me to get amazing photos of polar bears and birds in flight. It really is ground break technology that allows you to take wildlife photography to a new level.

I bought a series of lenses to go with the camera. My favourite is the 100 - 500 mm lens which is an incredible wildlife lens. It focuses really quickly and is wonderfully sharp.