The tree outside our window

One of the small but delightful pleasures of our life here comes on those mornings when Theresa and I don't have to leap out of bed for another training session, but can take a little time, have our coffee, and watch out the window. The day starts, as it always does, like clockwork, with the robin chat's melodic song right at 6:17 a.m. -- just as the first light of day begins to appear to the east. There may be a short period of red sky but nearly no "sunrise" as we're used to it; instead, the skies are instantly bright and another equatorial day is here.

That's when the fun begins. Lying in our bed, we can see out the window to an enormous spreading tree in the neighboring lot. Sometimes it is populated with starlings -- maligned, unattractive birds back home, but a gorgeous iridescent blue in Uganda. Sometimes, we will see the bright yellow beak of a turaco through the leaves, and perhaps its trademark crested head.

Best of all, though, is when the monkeys decide this is the place for their morning frivolities. Then we will see them everywhere: running along the large horizontal branches, their tails silhouetted against the morning sky; leaping for the ends of smaller branches to enjoy the "elevator" ride down to a lower level; and when the young ones are around, gathering in clumps of 5 or 6 together, wrestling and chasing each other through the thick leaves, one or the other of them popping straight up above the branch before crashing down on its siblings.

When they are around, the bird life vanishes, but no matter: the monkeys provide all the entertainment we need by themselves. If ever we had a doubt where the phrase "monkeying around" came from, our primate friends here at Salama Springs have certainly laid it to rest.