I never tire of birds. They are my solace. In all their forms they are utterly beautiful, magnificent creatures, linking earth and sky, the past and the future....In the heron sunning itself and the giant ground hornbill sleeping on the ground, I see nature at work. There are beaks and beaks and colours, and I wonder, do birds dream and what or who created such creatures...? Such genius....such magic. There is mystery in a Starling's red wing and a roller's rufous chest and pale blue tail....and what of the Inca Tern with its long curved beak and the marvelous stock dove lurking in the trees...and the great dark vulture....what does he think...would he eat me?
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