The Sound of Cape Town 03/05/2009 There is a sound that can mean only Cape Town for me. It was a distinctive bird call that one hears everywhere on the beautiful Cape Peninsula and, in the course of my ten years in that area, it came to be identified closely with my time there. I would like to say that the sound brings back the memory of Cape Town instantly but I cannot - since leaving the city, I have never, until today, heard it again.We are talking earliest memories here, for I arrived in Cape Town at the age of six weeks and lived there until I was eleven years old. So it may not be surprising that this haunting sound came to be imprinted on my memory; yet it is still surprising to me that fifty years later I can recall the notes so clearly. Indeed, today my aging brain has confirmed its accuracy for I have at last heard the sound again.I write of the call of the red-eyed dove, a name that I did not know then and have discovered only though the infinitely knowledgable resources of the internet. It is a call instantly recognizable as that of a dove, being based upon the familiar coo-coo we know so well, but this particular species has developed it further than most and created a series of notes that I have heard nowhere else.That is quite strange, in fact, since I lived in Zimbabwe for a further seventeen years after leaving Cape Town and I read that the red-eyed dove is quite plentiful there too. Perhaps it is quieter in the depths of Africa, however; I never heard the distinctive melody again until today, as I have said. Indeed, I missed it, never being satisfied with the much simpler sounds of local doves whether in Zimbabwe, England or the States.It was a New England dove that gave me the idea of looking up the sound on the internet. As I pondered the outside world through my window, a grey-green dove arrived and perched for a while on a nearby branch. It had nothing to say and soon flew off on some important mission but the mere sight of it had brought back the memory of Cape Town and the sound so inextricably woven into it. I began the search.It was a difficult task to identify which particular dove was responsible, for there are three that inhabit Cape Town and its environs. In the end, I had to look at all of them, searching for the soundbite that would confirm that my quest was ended. There is much to be read on the subject of southern African doves but few have a sound clip attached and I was almost in despair when I stumbled upon something even better - a video of a red-eyed dove with the sound of its call included.At last the coo-COO coo-COO-coo-coo melody reached my ears again and I was transported once again to the forests climbing up the slopes of Table Mountain, that faint and distinctive sound serving only to highlight the hush beneath the trees. It will be less meaningful for my readers but, if you wish to hear the sound (and see the bird), the link to the video is here.And who knows? If you find yourself in Cape Town through some unexpected chance, you might hear the sound again and be reminded of a young boy in another age with mind wide open to the onrush of experience, becoming forever tied to this city at the tip of Africa by the commonplace call of a dove.
Clive
JCP For me, the sound of a dove always brings back being in Liwonde game park, south of Lake Malawi, on a blindingly hot day in the late 80s. It was utterly still, and the only sound was the doves. Date Added: 04/05/2009
Clive Malawi is one of those countries that I regret not getting around to while I was in Africa (the other is Namibia). But it is interesting that you should recall the sound of doves in that connection, JCP. Perhaps there is something about their call that enters deeply into our memory banks, to surface when triggered and transport us back to another time and place. You remind me, too, that you have written me emails that I must reply to. I will get around to it, I promise! Date Added: 04/05/2009
JCP After 50 years in Central and South Africa, during which I must have heard doves on a majority of days, I have absolutely no idea why the sound should bring back that specific memory. And it's a very specific memory - I had stopped my car (an Opel Ascona) on a dirt road in the reserve, with several thorn trees on my right, and the road stretching ahead through typical open savannah long grass. Date Added: 04/05/2009
Clive Ah, what I call a photo memory, where the mind seems to take a very specific moment and preserve it in photographic clarity for no apparent reason. I have many from my days in Africa, perhaps the sharpest being the sight of a Sable antelope atop a bluff at the side of the road at dusk. It could have been made as a symbol of Zimbabwe... Date Added: 04/05/2009
JCP Don't get me started on "photo memories" of game - I must have a dozen or more! Date Added: 04/05/2009
Clive Perhaps it's a product of age... ;) But seriously, you should write them down. Harry taught me that memories may seem pretty ordinary to ourselves but, to others, they can be fascinating. Date Added: 04/05/2009
Rob I am currently located in South Africa, and to be honest I never realized that the sound the dove makes here is not heard anywhere else. Quiet an eye opener. PS: Found my way here from your F1 blog. Your a really good writer Clive :) Date Added: 04/05/2009
Clive Thank you, Rob - kind of you to say so. I should point out that, just because I never heard the sound of the red-eyed dove anywhere else than in Cape Town, it does not mean that they do not call elsewhere. It may be coincidence only that it happened to me that way. Indeed, it could even be that I wasn't paying attention as I grew older! ;) Date Added: 04/05/2009
AJP This reminds me of an internet journey I took last summer. One morning, as I sat beneath an open window, clacking away on my keyboard that the bird calls I could hear outside were the sounds of my childhood, yet many I had not heard in years. Years undoubtedly spend inside steel and concrete structures with unyielding windows where I was insulated from the world. I also realized that although I could recognize the local birds, and recognize the local bird calls, aside from the rather forward crows and the screeching seagulls, I really didn't know which call belonged to which bird. I went on a hunt and found a website with pictures and clips of birdsongs, and thus was my curiosity satisfied. Memory is a funny thing. It is used mostly for finding our car keys and paying bills on time, for the facts we need to bring up quickly to get us through our daily lives. Yet such things as a fragrance on a spring breeze or even the sound of a bird call, can catapult us instantly into memory's deepest recesses. Date Added: 04/05/2009
Clive How true, AJP. I am often struck by the odd things memory chooses to store in vivid detail while apparently losing other moments very quickly. Presumably, there is something about those memories stored for a lifetime that contains the meaning or essence of a period in one's life. Your mention of smells reminds me too of how evocative a remembered scent can be, even more so than a visual image or sound. Strange that our weakest sense should be so powerful in hindsight. Date Added: 04/05/2009
JCP I work in a 9-storey office block in Cape Town, and oddly enough, red-eyed doves are a scourge. The building has external walkways for the window cleaners, and the doves live and nest on the walkways, spreading nests, muck, bird-droppings and corpses all over the outside of the building. Date Added: 07/05/2009
Clive Always a problem with doves and pigeons, I guess. They seem to like our buildings and "decorate" them in their chosen style. ;) Date Added: 07/05/2009
Fractal D'oh! Not only do you get all misty-eyed at sounds, you then have to mention smell! - One thing at a time pleease. Nicely told. It conjours the mind to blend two senses together but, I think I can, in fact I can make it three. - Taste, sound and smell. My Gran (Bless her) had a giant frying pan. Some might call it a skillet but no matter, the item did a sterling job every sunday morning, for this was bacon sandwich time. Superstition was integral to Gran. Not as a serious thing but inasmuch that she would have a 'saying' for just about every occasion. - "Black as Newgates knocker" being her particular favourite; To be used whenever the skies darkened and rain threatened. - Anyway, she loved to hear the birds singing in the trees. Each song was told to me, I learned them all. She would soak bread and feed the local flocks to keep them as happy as she could. She liked her walks too, but that is a different story... I have a vivid memory of (bringing me back to your point), one sunday morning; The smell of bacon sizzling in my nostrils, the taste of that same bacon as she handed me a small piece that was as hot as hot and.., sorry - when this day she suddenly left the pan and ran out into the garden calling for me come and listen - and there was the sound of the spring; The cuckoo. The memory endures simply because it was almost a regular feature of springtime for those years. Spring would arrive and listening for that first call was just something we did. I haven't heard a cuckoo now for 20 years or more. But now and again on TV or radio and indeed the internet, one comes across these things and for me it is always the same, when I hear it, I always have this desire for a bacon butty. Date Added: 10/05/2009
Back to the main blog
You may use HTML in comments. A carriage return is <br />, use two for a new paragraph. For bold text use <strong></strong> and for italic text use <em></em>. If you know what you're doing feel free to use more complex mark-up but please no deprecated tags or JavaScript.
Name * Comment * Email * URL Commenting has closed for this post
