The countryside exploded with a cacophony of frantic warnings. The trees vibrated with the fluttering wings of alarmed birds. From directly underneath the trees - and by underneath I mean from our front door - I scanned the tree tops. There draped between a cluster of indignant birds was a Boomslang. He hung there like a delicately arranged piece of jewelry around the neck of a princess. Aware of his beauty and power while unperturbed by the screeching common folk, the Boomslang moved at his leisure. It was remarkable to behold. He moved effortlessly and weightlessly. Despite their courageous battle efforts the birds might as well have been invisible. A pile of feathers. Not worth the effort. His prize was in the nests.
Over 20 minutes he casually inspected nest after nest. The angry birds didn't stop in their tirade.
Nest after nest. After nest.
The Spring fledglings have all flown the nest and the hungry snake found no tasty morsel.
Lunchtime over and his belly still as empty as all the nests, the beautiful Boomslang disappeared. As did the birds - whether to congratulate their bravery or fluff their embarrassed feathers, I do not know.