This story was originally published in the Sept/Oct 2026 edition of African Birdlife magazine.
I observed a heroic and tragic birding story unfold in Nature’s Valley.
During January 2026, we were camping at the SANParks campsite in Nature’s Valley, when I was alerted to a commotion at a neighboring campsite.
Going to have a look, I found a few other campers watching a pair of African Dusky Flycatchers (Muscicapa adusta) attacking a large male Boomslang (Dispholidus typus).
The campers said that the birds had chicks in a nest in the trees nearby, and that was probably the snake’s target and the cause of the birds’ anxiety.
This was a large male Boomslang, an endemic snake to sub-Saharan Africa, displaying the characteristic Western Cape variant, which is jet black on top, with bright yellow sides and underbelly. It was a very large snake, at least 1.2 to 1.5 meters long.
By the time I returned with my camera, the snake had crossed the open ground to the trees and was coiling itself up the first tree, but still some way from the nest. The Flycatchers were dive-bombing the snake repeatedly.
Some people standing around were debating whether, or even how, to stop the snake from reaching its objective, the nest. But watching the snake go up the trees was mesmerizing; its movements were hardly perceptible as it glided up higher into the trees.
Without ceasing the birds took turns to fly in and attack the snake. As the birds came in, they seemed to strike the snake, but not once did I observe the snake flinching, defending itself or retaliating. It knew the birds were too tiny to harm it … and it had another goal in mind.
Slowly but surely the snake went higher in the tree, pursued by the Flycatchers, until it suddenly sped over some lateral branches across to the tree in which they had the nest. The approach had taken nearly 20 minutes, but the end came swiftly.
The Boomslang slithered and coiled around the tree directly into the nest, which was in the deep shade in the fork of a tree, about 2.5 meters off the ground. I had not seen the nest before … but the snake had clearly had his eyes on it all along.
Even now the birds were still attacking the Boomslang and virtually landing on its head, but the snake paid them no heed. Within seconds, the snake was swallowing the first chick … and then the second one. They looked only days old.
The second chick disappeared as quickly, with the birds still frantic. I could now see two bulges in the body of the snake as the chicks were rapidly swallowed. It did not look like the snake used any venom on the chicks … there was no need, as he simply swallowed them whole.
The actual raid on the nest took less than a minute and, after a moment to continue digesting the chicks, the Boomslang wound silently down the tree and onto the forest floor.
Once down on the ground and the snake disappeared silently past me into the forest. But curiously, neither I nor the Flycatchers felt any threat from it now.
One of the adult flycatchers perched in a tree, visibly panting with the exertion of the battle, while the other stood on the forest floor just watching the snake glide past it centimeters away.
I had very mixed feelings watching this whole drama unfold. It was a very sad end for the chicks, and the adults, of course. The flycatchers were heroic in their defence of their nest and their chicks, in the face of a much larger and more threatening predator. The birds were also stoic in defeat after the snake started leaving.
Watching the snake, one could not help but admire its unique combination of beauty, skill and menace. I wondered how long the snake had been monitoring this nest, because after its first appearance from many meters away, it did not waiver in its attack.
We have seen before the stout defense that a proper bird party can put up against even a very large snake and a few minutes later two Black-backed Puffbacks arrived to inspect the situation … but it was too little, too late.
And the Boomslang really lived up to its name in the trees that day.
The forest went quiet.
Life went on.
