My African morning

It is 6:30am. All three children have either eaten or are busy eating their breakfast. Another school day is dawning.

It is strangely quiet in the space outside our kitchen. I peer through the fly screen door and wonder where our normally excitable dog, Harry, has got to. It is unusual that he is not pushing to get into the kitchen and demanding his breakfast. I step outside in the half light and wander round the corner into the garden to search for Harry.

Bizarrely, he is standing at the base of one of our trees, nose tilted upwards, staring intently at Something on one of the higher branches. Following the direction of his pointing muzzle, I look up into the leaves- and spy a dark shape crouched, blending into the outline of a branch. It looks a bit like a cat, but its back is more arched, its profile much darker and its head smaller. I look more closely. It has a long tail. Wait! It is a long, dark, striped tail and the body of the creature is marked with patterns almost like a condensed version of those seen on a giraffe- or the jaguar I once saw at a South African zoo.

I suddenly feel much more wide awake. The cat-like creature is distracted, staring back at Harry in a kind of stand-off, pounced ready to spring but carefully measuring the risk posed by my dog. Every second that passes gives us a little more light, as the sun rises quickly in Uganda. The creature in the tree seems more tense with every passing minute, as the light starts to expose its shape and markings. I am excited now- I think I am looking at a civet, a wild cat normally only spotted in the expanse of a National Park or out in the African bush- not in the city suburbs of Kampala.

I back away quietly, calling gently to Harry, but he is transfixed and will not take his eyes off this new threat to his territory.

I walk quickly back into the kitchen and stage-whisper to the children to come as fast as they can. Ben and Joel tumble over each other in their enthusiasm to glimpse this wild animal. It is still there, locked in its silent battle with the dog, but the rustle of extra human activity breaks its concentration and it glances at the three of us.

Quick as a flash, it bounds down the tree and dashes up the trees by the wall at the side of our property. Harry gallops after it, despite us calling to him (he is not very obedient!!) and then our cat joins in, chasing the trespasser over the wall into the neighbour's garden. "There's no way that Harry could catch it, Mum!" Ben reassures me in my anxiety to protect this exotic animal.

The boys get a good look at the departing animal and we all rush inside to consult our "African Mammals" book.

What we saw this morning appears to be a large-spotted genet. What an exciting start to our Thursday! This is the image from our reference book:

(photo credit, Mammals of...East Africa, Struick)

Having seen it today helps to explain the great drama of noise which occurred two nights ago in our garden. In the dead dark of night, there were high-pitched squeals, a rustling in the undergrowth outside our bedroom window and a wild yapping from Harry. Intrigued, I ran to look out of the window and saw the profile of a large owl, soaring over the wall, silhouetted by the city lights beyond. Harry was barking wildly at something up the avocado tree, but the reflection of 2 bright eyes was all I could see high up in the tree branches.

It must have been our visiting genet causing all the excitement!

As today progressed and once the children were had been happily dispatched to school, I took off to a neighbour's house so that we could do a short fitness walk around our hilly neighbourhood. Wandering down our street, I had to smile to myself at the sights I see here. First a genet as day began and now I was walking past 2 uniformed, armed guards. I don't flinch at all as I greet the lady in uniform with an enormous gun slung over her shoulder. We smile and nod a "good morning" to one another and I continue on my way. Very civilised- but that huge gun is a sight I never saw in London on my way to a friend's house!

Within a few metres, a motorbike driver zooms towards me. His passenger seated behind him holds an enormous, yellow jerry-can on her lap and is shouting a conversation to her driver as they zip past me. A typical Kampala sight.

A truly African morning.