14 Jan 2016 38 Comments
Scrawny roosters start their crowing at 4:30, well before the first rays of sun peek over the hills, their sounds as varied as dogs’ barks, their brilliant colors of red, orange, and yellow sharp against the black.
SCReeeK! SCReeeK! screams one. ERRR ERR ERRR ERRGGGG hollers another. Then, the one crow that is clear, bright, familiar: Cock-a-doodle-DOOOO! Err er-er er-EEERRRRR!!! I arise in the cool dark.
Five odd, scrawny kittens meow loudly, tumble over one another, dart up trees and over steps, looking nothing like the soft, boneless, cuddly kitties I know. These are sleek, pointy-chinned, Abyssinian-looking, like miniature sphinxes. Just months old, they appear as wizened old wizard cats, sharp, alert, feral. They are fed rice. I cannot pet them.
An unseen Bali bird warbles a twirly, repetitive trill, not unlike a hobo’s whistle as he wanders down the train track. I sit on my private little patio and enjoy my breakfast of coffee, papaya, pineapple, banana, watermelon, honeydew, and eggs with tomatoes. Continue reading