The chickens, loose at the side of the road scratching away in the shrubbery, Canarian sparrows chattering in the yukkas, blackbirds serenading from the rubber trees and the raptor species flying overhead.
On this building there is a pair of sparrow hawks with a youngster. Watching them as they gracefully sweep past the building with their screeching offspring in hot pursuit, looking for tasty morsels to grab and deliver is a treat.
But there are also falcons skimming the open ground and the banana fields not far from my balcony and today I watch a species of buzzard riding the thermals on the slopes as the valley rises towards the three small volcanic plugs.
At night, when I've woken for a quick loo trip I've heard the cry of an owl. Sadly I have no idea which it is but a barn owl it most certainly is not as I would recognise that screech anywhere.
The almost eerie sound travels round the valley but as yet I have not heard a reply. I suspect its female (no 'wobble' in the twoo) but however I strain my ears, I've not his expected call.
I sometimes wonder if the warmth of the bed calls me to sleep before he does, that answer I will never know.