The Tales Of U Tegwane

According to some of the native tribes of Zululand, to kill a Hammerhead Stork, otherwise known to them as U Tegwane, brings death and destruction to the village of the individual so foolish as to have killed it. If only one bird of this species flies about a village it is a certain omen of coming death. Touching the nest is sure to bring illness to at least one person and possibly more, but to destroy the nest or touch the eggs brings penalties too awful to mention. In almost all the tales, this bird is connected with dire floods, lightning and violent storms. With such a reputation it is not surprising that the hammerhead is left unmolested in a country where almost every bird is considered lawful game.

So it was quite natural that the old Zulu refused to watch me, a white man, destroy himself as I ventured towards the nest. In spite of these dire predictions I climbed the tree, and, true to his word, the old Zulu refused to help and refused to look. At last, hearing me at work examining the nest, he expressed his disgust with a clucking grunt, rose, and stalked silently off into the bush and up the hill. The birds left the vicinity of the nest silently. They indicated no alarm or displeasure even though the complement of eggs had been laid and were being incubated. There was never any display of emotion, even later when the young were nearly ready to leave the nest. It seems probable that complete freedom from molestation has allowed a feeling of security to develop, so that even the presence of man causes no flurry of excitement as is the case with most birds. Monkeys were never observed near one of the nests and it seems altogether likely that they do not rob them.

As it turned out later there is probably a basis for some of the native superstitions, especially in regard to the occurrence of disease following any tampering with the nest. The photographic blind was at first set up on an old deserted nest not far from the new one, but this had such a horde of insect inhabitants that for comfort's sake the nest was removed and a seat made of more comfortable material. This old nest had been used by at least one pair of barn owls, a common occurrence, and this habit of usurpation by the owls may explain the building of new nests, as well as the presence of many deserted nests found elsewhere.

After we had established the blind, a flock of weaverbirds gathered in the tree, and in a few days it was festooned with nests in all stages of construction. The long periods of waiting were enlivened by intimate views of domesticity, squabbles, supercilious inspecting of the new domicile by supposedly prospective weaver wives, and frantic hours of work by the males.