Its summer in the endlessly flat, grassy savanna of the central Free State. The rains have been extreme, and there is as much standing water in the landscape as there is dry ground. A carpet of rank, green grass ripples in the wind, and the thick, warming air is alive with the sizzling of insects, the burping of frogs, and the chirping of birds.
Where the grass is tallest and wettest, diminutive male, Yellow-crowned Bishops are dancing to impress and seduce females. By fluffing out their lumo-yellow backs, and pitch-black belly feathers, they become strange, bumble bee-like beings, that then scoot about rapidly over the grass-tops on abbreviated, almost invisible wings, in displays that are as hysterical as they are striking and energetic.