Birthday Bird

On the morning of the 3rd October 1986, I announced to GB that maybe he had better take a day off from work. This was rather unusual. Unusual, in as much as, for the previous 24 hours we had been on Vision Only due to some hormonal glitch on my part. His words not mine. So, a severe lack of verbal communication was the order of the day. I duly fed the ravenous offspring, prepared lunch boxes and scraped a rake in the general vicinity of my head. Ready for the day, we - the children and I - headed off.

He never asked "Why?"

I walked daughter no.1 to "big" school and son no. 1 to "playschool". Happy as pigs in the proverbial, they were completely oblivious to the momentous change about to wreak havoc on their innocent lives.

GB was still sipping tea at the kitchen table when I got back an hour later. Well, at least, I had been heard. It was, by now, 10.30am. Time was marching on. "I think it will be soon", I announced to no one in particular, thereby giving him an opportunity to maintain the vision only status, or not. To my surprise, he enquired "Would you like to go for a walk?"

And walk, we did. And talk. And pause. And breathe. And walk again. And pause again. And breathe again.

By 11.45 I figured I'd had enough walking, talking and pausing. It was time for the "real" games to begin. On our way back to the house, during one of the more significant pauses, we noticed, not 10 metres from us, a hawk swooping down from the cover of some tall pine trees and tackling an unsuspecting, obscenely overweight pigeon to the ground in a flurry of feathers and pitiful squawking. We watched, completely fascinated, while Nature did what Nature does best. The hawk was merciful. The pigeon didn't suffer. Much. We had no time to waste so, thankfully, we missed the decloaking and ultimate annihilation of the feathered victim.

"Hawk Who Brings Down Pigeon" made her prematurely, grand entrance at 1.15pm.

She was a serene child. Other children, especially younger ones, gravitated towards her like nails to a magnet. They still do. She was quiet. Worryingly so, at times. And then she hit 16 and the, hitherto dormant, hawklike qualities emerged in all their glory. She hovered and swooped, demolished and destroyed, decloaked and annihilated all that were unfortunate enough to cross her path. Nature in resplendent glory. Not unlike most teenagers.

She's a Libra, she's a Hawk, she's a fine, loving, sensitive human being. And she's spreading her wings.

Fly and soar, bird of my heart.