A Guide to the Beasts of East Africa Read Online Free PDF Page A

needed more in Edinburgh than Nairobi. The choice had not been difficult.
    Rose was surprised how quickly she had
     fitted back into Edinburgh life. Though her father could not get out of the old house
     much, the door was wide and the world could get in. Friends came to call and stayed to
     gossip. Her father’s sister and her mother’s two brothers provided all the
     family they needed. The two families had always been close. None of them had moved away
     from Edinburgh, and their regular Sunday get-together at the old house in Glenlockhart
     Road was a weekly ritual that Rose looked forward to. She would cook the lunch, as her
     mother had before her. Her father would choose the wine and whisky. Each week the ritual
     would be completed when Auntie Jean sat down at the piano after the meal. All the family
     sang – you would almost have thought they were Welsh.
    All this is not to say that Rose
     didn’t miss Kenya. Even after four years back in Scotland she sometimes woke up
     thinking she was in her upstairs bed in Serengeti Gardens. The emptiness of Edinburgh
     streets disconcerted her still; the streets of Nairobi were always thronged not just
     with cars and trucks and matatus but with people – people on bicycles, people on foot.
     She missed the smellsof Africa, and the faces and the sound of African
     voices. The birds? Well, probably best not to think about the birds.
    Mr Malik eased his old green Mercedes into
     a space in the car park of the Nairobi Museum. Quite a crowd had already assembled – the
     usual mixture of black, brown and white. They were greeted by Jennifer Halutu, who had
     been leading the walks ever since Rose Mbikwa’s departure. Though Jennifer Halutu
     was a kind and competent woman, Mr Malik missed Rose. He wished he could hear again her
     loud, clear speaking voice bringing everyone’s attention to a chestnut-fronted
     bee-eater on a telephone wire or a black kite – which is not really black, but brown –
     soaring over the city.
    Before they decided where they would go that
     day, Hilary Fotherington-Thomas had something to tell them all.
    ‘I have some bad news and some good
     news. I regret to say that Dr Neil Macdonald, the father of Rose Mbikwa, died six days
     ago. Many of you will remember Dr Macdonald from his many visits to Kenya. He was
     eighty-four years old and died at home in Scotland. He will be missed. The good news is
     that Rose is coming back to Nairobi very soon. I had an email from her this morning. She
     is flying in tomorrow.’
    Though Mr Malik immediately felt a small
     flutter in his heart, it was overruled by a stern admonishment from his brain. It had
     been four years. Rose Mbikwa would probably not even remember his name, let alone that
     dance at the Hunt Club Ball.
    After a show of hands it was agreed that, as
     there were plenty of cars this morning, they would go to the State Agricultural Research
     Station. A small patch of forest near the entrance to the station, a pond that was used
     to store water for irrigation, and coffee and tea bushes extending over several acres
     made for a variety of bird habitats with the chance to see anything from a kingfisher to
     an eagle. As usual, Mr Malik’s old friend Thomas Nyambe rode in the front
     passenger seat for the journey, and a gaggle of Young Ornithologists – in this case
     three male and two female – squeezed into the back. Forty minutes later they arrived at
     the gates of the agricultural station.
    ‘Follow me,’ said Jennifer
     Halutu.
    One of the YOs pointed out a pair of augur
     buzzards circling overhead – one light, one dark.
    ‘Ah yes, buzzards,’ said Mr
     Nyambe. ‘That reminds me …’
    Mr Malik took out his pen, opened his
     notebook, and began to write.
    By the time the walk ended at noon Mr Malik
     had recorded the names of forty-two species of Kenyan birds – one of the YOs’
     sharp pairs of eyes had even spotted a rare dwarf bittern standing motionless among