The bird, the size of a sparrow and indistinct in its coloration, was barely big enough to fill the man's palm. We did not eat any bulbuls or barn owls that we know of. What disturbed me more than the prospect of finding delicate little bones in my groundnut stew was the nonchalance, one could say callousness, with which these bright bits of protein were plucked from the trees and wetlands. Sentimentality for small creatures is one of those luxuries that, along with pure water and long lives, most West Africans have to do without. Sympathy for other animals comes from a more secure relationship with nature than most of the villagers we encountered will ever have.
Families have more children than they can feed adequately.
Environmental degradation and falling world prices of cash crops such as cacao, coffee and cotton make it harder each year to run a viable farm. In a region where 80 per cent of the diet is a starchy staple like manioc, protein is taken wherever it can be found. A purple heron on the edge of a reedy marsh, even if it was the last one in Ghana, would inspire less sympathy than a malnourished child. Lest we forget, it was not long ago that Western culture took a similar view of the proper role for pretty little birds. As recently as the last century, thousands of wild larks were sold in the London poultry markets.