PHENOLOGY – the word might be new to some of us – is the study of plant and animal life cycle events, generally used with reference to seasonal happenings, such as annual bird and animal migrations.
Scientific evidence, by the way, seems to indicate that owing to global warming, everything is happening slightly later than in years gone by.
The annual winter migration of sardines took place along the KZN coast a month or so ago.
It is indeed a spectacular event. Those who watch the Discovery channels instead of soapies will have been thrilled to see the balls of fish as they try to escape the clutches of predatory species, including huge sharks and dolphins that arrive for the annual feast.
Strangely, it’s still not known why the sardines choose to leave the food-rich Cape waters and travel past the Wild Coast to KZN.
The sardine run is currently being followed by the yearly whale migration, equally spectacular as they journey northwards to the east coast of Africa.
And we’re seeing them in greater numbers every year – yippee!
I saw about 20 breaching and blowing off Richards Bay on Saturday.
Of course, one of the greatest migrations of species takes place on the Serengeti plains every year, when an estimated 1.5 million wildebeest, plus tens of thousands of gazelles and zebras, seek greener pastures, trekking from the plains of the Masai Mara in Kenya, all the way south into Tanzania and back again.
We’re told about 400 000 calves are born en route, on what is more a round trip than a migration, as the end destination is also the beginning point for the next trek.
Along the way, they must cross the mighty Mara River, where giant crocodiles lie in wait for some juicy protein on the hoof.
However, there is another annual migration that has been happening for as long as one can remember.
That is the annual movement of large numbers of people from the hinterland – mainly Gauteng and Free State – to Richards Bay and Durban.
I don’t mean for the summer holidays when everyone seems to have a relative living here in what was once unkindly named Secunda-by-the-Sea and The Bay of Pigs.
No, not the Christmas dash for the beach, but the mid-winter arrival of countless homeless individuals seeking a warmer and more hospitable climate.
Tramps, vagrants, homeless, beggars, vagabonds, hoboes – they have arrived here by the dozen and can be seen at almost any street corner, soliciting ‘a bread’ or ‘a job’ from wary and weary motorists.
If we’re honest, it’s an uneasy feeling when we encounter them: a mixture of pity, guilt and anger.
Because we simply can’t give money or food to every one of them, we ignore them, steadfastly staring ahead as they approach the driver’s side of the car.
Some are obviously conmen, who have mastered every pitiful, pained and pathetic expression to reach into the deepest corners of our compassion for drug or booze money.
But for the majority, the marks and scars are real; the sun-scorched faces, ragged clothes and limping legs telling their own sad story.
Their faces speak of the terrible annual migration that also has no starting and no ending place, as they drift from year to year just trying to survive.
They too were once precious newborns, before being flung by fate before the lions and crocodiles of this world, becoming victims of the worst predators of all: human beings.
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