I HAD MY young grandson, Jimmy, with me on a weekend camp in Natal and was just building our campfire when he came walking up from the direction of the river. “Grandpa, look!” he said, “I found a little basket lying on the ground. What can it be?” I glanced across and smiled. After a thoughtful pause, I said, “My boy, you are holding in your hand a truly marvellous architectural feat and a wonder of nature.” “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. I replied, “That’s a nest of the southern masked weaver – one of those birds you heard making that buzzing, chirring sound down at the river.” “Why is it… uh… what you said?” he asked. “Well now, that will have to wait; I must get…
