From the bedroom I
spot a sea bird. Black. Gull-like but not a gull. Soars the wind on
the waves. No flapping of wings. Not a cormorant. Too far away to make it out.
A jackal trots across
the sand outside the dining room window.
It is wary though purposeful, stopping and looking behind every few
metres. Eventually it jumps down onto
the beach, disappearing from view.
A string of cormorants
head south along the coast. Occasionally
the whole flock, at least thirty birds, disappears behind the heavy Atlantic
swell.
***
Sound of the sea all
night. Waves. A constant rumble. And wind.
It was hard to tell the difference as I lay awake in the darkness.
This morning the jackal
trots back the other way as I watch foaming, raging breakers from the bedroom
window. It’s the same animal, with one
floppy ear. Returning from a night of raiding
the seal colony.
Moist cool air. A contrast from the hot dry interior.
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