The birds have built a nest on it.
A drama unfolds every morning when I go to collect the ripe mauve figs.
"It's our food, what are you doing there?" they appear to complain.
"There is plenty of food for the both of us," I assure them.
The juicy sweet figs with soft creamy flesh and crunchy seeds ... pure nectar! They simply melt in my mouth. I wouldn't trade them for any processed breakfast in the world.
The birds wouldn't either. They probably have a few young ones in the nest at the top of the canopy, the very ones they are trying to protect. As soon as I open the kitchen door in the morning, they start signaling each other, circling around the tree, screaming, hoping I will go away.
I can't help but smile....
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