Tweets from ‘Weaver Tree’

It’s the time of the year when new beginnings in nature are creating buzz.

I didn’t anticipate that observing Southern Masked Weaver birds colony on our Blouhaak (acacia erubescens) tree, would be fascinating to the extent of providing entertainment for me, not just for hours, but days. Southern Masked Weaver birds have earned the name from their nests that are intricately weaved from the grass blades. But it’s not that simple.
Building the flawless nest requires experience – practice, practice. And there is intense competition amongst the males with a race for time. The female will accept the nest she is satisfied with the craft.
While photographing the Weavers, I noticed some peculiar behaviours.

”The early bird catches the …?…”

– NO, not the worm! The early Weaver bird pinches building material from neighbours nest. Building the nest is hard work, requiring to fetch the grass blades, one by one, from a distance away. Hence occasionally grass is taken from other Weavers half-built nest.
Nest building can take anything from two to four days, depending on interruptions. While building, the males spend a lot of energy chasing each other away – supposing they are protecting their own interest: females. (the less competition, the better). But the females also give a ‘fly around’ to the males.
This chap on the photo, was trying hard to build, but every time he turned his back to fetch grass, a female flew in and fiercely destroyed his nest. He looked devastated (I imagine), but he was not giving up and started to fix his nest again. But that female objected and came back to destroy his nest again. This Weaver male had to start all over again to repair and build his nest.
As the sunset, the ‘Weaver tree’ got quiet.

It’s tough competition and not every nest will pass the test.

The next day, I was hoping to see what happens with the Weaver chap whos nest the female prevented him from building. He was persistent and continued to build his nest, despite the female destroying his nest at least ten times. Eventually, the male gave up and abandoned the site. Kind of sad. I hope that he had better luck with different Weaver-neighbourhood.
One male can build multiple nests in one season.
Meanwhile, more and more nests are appearing on our tree, and happy males are ‘tweeting’ as females are coming to inspect them. Not every nest will pass the competition. Once when the female has chosen the suitable nest, she will help the male to finish it. Or rather interior decorate it, as she brings soft leaves and grass tufts to line the inside of the nest.
Then the mating starts, and I will be waiting for the little beaks to appear in the nests.

The ‘Weaver Tree’ got quiet. Too quiet.

And then we witnessed the reason: A Gabar Goshawk dived in, ripping and shredding the nests, then snatched a chick and flew away. The Gabar Goshawk came back for more and more.
Out of 38 nests, only about 15 was occupied, and out of those 15, probably only a few chicks made it.
Although one suppose to remain the neutral observer in nature, I felt devastated – I had watched them days. I followed the laborious process of nest building, the interactions, the joy … they were ‘our’ Weavers! Well, it felt like it.
But the Goshawk had its own ‘tweets’ to feed.

The remaining chicks stretched their wings and went to explore.

The nest dried; swaying on the branches – in the sun, rain and wind until some Weavers returned to destroy what was left.

And it will repeat again as the seasons make their rounds — year after year.