30 If we are entirely honest as forestry practitioners and tree farmers, we would have to be the first to admit that the practice of forestry does alter the environment, limits biodiversity and changes the original landscape significantly. We can, and do, argue however, that the changes that we induce are “softer” than most other landscape changes. Here I’m thinking of developing cityscapes, major roadworks, industrialisation, intensive agriculture et al. So as a lifelong forester, what has made me think again of these fundamentals? Would you believe a Hadeda? Yes, the ubiquitous and raucous Hadeda or flying bin-rat that everyone loves to hate. In my case it was not Hadada’s in general that caused a deep thought process, but rather a single particular Hadeda which, as per an old classic western movie became known to us as “She with no name”. Around 14 years ago a namesake, but no relative, Dr Lindi Thompson (Ornithologist) requested permission to erect mist nets in our garden in order to capture Cape White Eyes for a metabolic study she was engaged in. During the capture process literally every avian visitor to our garden over a few days was netted and ringed along with two resident Hadedas. For months thereafter, a bird without a ring was a scarce sight. Gradually however, time and circumstance dictated a steady decline in ring sightings until eventually “She with no name” was the sole visible remnant of the catch and release exercise. We know she was a “she” as she was regularly seen doing the dirty with a partner on our lawn. “She with no name” became a daily visitor, who got us into the habit of feeding her a daily ration of dog blocks in the evening. This led to her establishing a nest in the Natal Mahogony close to our bedroom window and inviting her extended family and friends in to roost every night. From that point onwards there was no reason to set an alarm – and they say roosters start up early in the morning! “She with no name” literally had two sets of youngsters a year, every year, for fourteen years. She’d introduce us to the youngsters, and they’d hang around a few months before flying off towards their own destinies. It was during these observations that environmental realities became ever more apparent. Her 14 years with us were filled with paradox and drama. In her latter years she lived through the period of Covid and really thrived on the quietness of the neighbourhood. She became stressed and distant during the 2021 unrest with gunshots and smoke prevailing. Then came the devastating storms of 2021 and 2023 which trashed her roost, killed her kids and caused her to disappear for months, only to return bedraggled and eager to resume a daily dog block feed. Electric fences that appeared in the neighbourhood took their toll of another two of her offspring and a cold spell caused an almost fully fledged youngster to have to be rescued and rushed off to a local wildlife rehab centre due to exposure. Ja, it was just a Hadeda – don’t judge me! We often watched her and her family march up and down the lawn systematically annihilating the few remaining crickets left available. This gave us the sense that this group relied on our lawn for sustenance possibly given that so many open areas in the neighbourhod and beyond had been paved and developed. A major part of her foraging area on the racecourse next door for instance, had become a major indoor swimming arena, thereby putting paid to a rich insect repository. Rob Thompson – Assistant General Manager
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