Birdwatching

Whenever I used to think of “birdwatching”, I pictured a skinny-legged fellow in khaki shorts, probably wearing black socks and “sneakers”, a wide-brimmed hat, binoculars around his neck and a bird list in his hand, ready to tick off each bird he spotted. Birdwatching was a hobby for old people or nerds with nothing better to do with their time. It's not that I disliked birds. It's more that I saw them, but never took the time to really notice them. Oh, a bluebird. Gee whiz, there's a seagull. Hmm, the first spring robin. Not much enthusiasm. Boy, did I have it wrong.

When we moved aboard Nine of Cups and we were sailing, birds really started to get my attention. Sea birds, shore birds, passerines, non-passerines, big, little. Each new area had its own particular birdlife and that became even more apparent as we traveled from country to country and then from the Equator to the Antarctic. With nearly 10,000 bird species throughout the world, we'd be hard pressed not to find a new species wherever we went. What once seemed nerdy became absolutely fascinating.

Of course along with finally noticing birds, came the need to identify them. So I bought a big “Birds of the World” identification guide. Soon, this was not enough. I needed a less bulky book that I could throw in my backpack. I wanted one which included more identification photos and/or sketches, like seeing a bird in flight as well as sitting on a bough. I wanted more information about the bird and its call. I've ended up investing in a bird book for each major area we've visited and I don't regret it in the least. I usually find a used copy which helps the budget significantly. In fact, I even traded a bird photo of a Pitcairn warbler with a publisher one time in return for an Australian bird book. That's how I got my Simpson & Day Birds of Australia which is in constant use.

Now, I'm so totally enthralled with birds and photographing them, I've created separate pages on our website for them. Australia has ~800 bird species and though we'd seen and identified lots, it's not even close to what's out there. The best bird site and bird photography I've ever seen is Ian Montgomery's Birdway. When I can't find what I'm looking for in my bird book, I refer to his site for an answer and he never lets me down.

That brings us to our current location in Cygnet. Not far away from our anchorage at the head of the bay is the Port Cygnet Conservation area. It's a ~250 acre wetland reserve and wildlife sanctuary and an important feeding, nesting and roosting area for over 70 species of birds. A boardwalk and paths meander through the wetland area allowing close up views of its visitors and inhabitants without encroaching too much on their turf.

It's a pleasant and fascinating place to explore. Tasmanian native hens scurry around on the grass and disappear into the tall marsh reeds. Masked lapwings shriek and tromp around in the mud at low tide and white-faced herons wait stone-still, hoping for some breakfast to swim by. Sea eagles regularly frequent this area, but unfortunately we didn't see any. There was much less birdlife than we saw on our last visit and we wonder if the smoke and soot from the bushfires is keeping them away. Hopefully, it's just a temporary thing.

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Days and Ways to Celebrate

A daily list of mostly obscure holidays and fun ways to celebrate them.

World Nerd Day

Where would we be without them? We'd still be using tin cans and string while calculating on an abacus. High five a nerd today...they're easy to pick out in a crowd.

Things that go "bump" in the night

“From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord, deliver us.” An old Scottish prayer

It was after 10pm. We were winding down the day, near the end of a video on the computer, almost falling asleep when WHAM!...something hit the boat.

We jumped up, startled and clambered on deck. Our heartbeats quickened; a little adrenaline rush. David turned on the spreader lights. He rushed aft; I shot forward. The night was inky black, the moon behind thick clouds. The wind had been in the mid-high 30 knot range all day. We feared one of the little boats on moorings in the bay had broken loose.

David called to me: “I found what hit us.” I made my way aft, looking in the water for a log or little skiff. I could see nothing. David pointed to his feet. A rather large seagull had flown head-on into our shrouds and was laying on the deck in a stupor. The WHAM had been very significant and this guy had obviously been speeding and not looking at where he was going. He lay very still for several minutes and then slowly came around, squawking loudly at us as if we had planted those shrouds in the way just to trip him up.

We had had a similar instance in Preservation Inlet, Fiordland, way down on the southern tip of New Zealand's South Island. At anchor on a rainy, foggy night, we heard a similar WHAM. It was a fairy prion on our coach roof. It apparently had hit the boom while flying over the boat. He gathered his little prion wits together as we scrambled topsides and flew away before we really had a good look at him. We went back down below.

Shortly thereafter, there was loud TWANG, then a THUMP. Was this the same prion or a different one? It sounded as if he'd hit a shroud. Before we could open up the companionway slider and get topside to investigate, we heard something tap, tap, tapping at our portlights. A prion was peeking in at us from the side deck. We heard a commotion in the cockpit. Another prion, no two prions, no four … we lost count … were sitting in our cockpit, pecking at the portlights and at the companionway hatch boards. A couple were just relaxing on the cockpit seats. We could hear them chatting amongst themselves. “Do you think anyone's home? Will they let us in?” Most of the birds eventually found their way out of the cockpit and flew off. A couple remained and David gently wrapped them in towels and put each in turn back into the water.

Discussion with a naturalist a few days later confirmed that this was not unusual on foggy nights. The birds became confused and disoriented and headed towards light … our anchor light and interior cabin lights to be exact.

Well, back to our night visitor. It was dark, but not rainy or foggy. Our seagull friend had no excuse other than he wasn't paying attention. He squawked a bit more, but looked like he was no worse for the wear. He fluttered and flapped his wings a bit, but still appeared a bit disoriented. David wrapped a towel around him and put him back in the water, hoping he'd recuperate better in his own element.

You just never know when friends are going to drop in.

Worse than snakes

I'm an arachnophobe. I have an illogical, unexplainable fear of spiders. I've listened to all the gardeners' spiels about how wonderful spiders are for eating up bad insects. My parents chided me as a child for being afraid of “something so tiny” compared to my size. I read Charlotte's Web and loved Charlotte, until I remembered she was really a spider. It may be an irrational fear, but it's very real. The very thought of them gives me goosebumps. Years ago, I nearly wrecked my Dad's car when a very small spider announced his presence by gliding down his web from the sunscreen and dangling directly in front of my nose while I was driving. My son used to hide plastic spiders in the freezer and the ice cube tray to terrorize me. The ultimate was when both sons announced they had a new pet named Regina. Turned out Regina was a black widow spider who lived in a window well and they'd been feeding her flies. Out came the can of Raid and Regina was history despite the “Mom, you're so unfair” histrionics from the boys.

We spent a day in the Darien Jungle hunting for elusive harpy eagles. Our 5-foot tall guides had no problems scooting under the spider webs which hung over the damp, thickly overgrown path. Being 5'9”, however, had me eye to eye with one spider about as big as a Buick. I screamed, knocked off my hat and David did a quick spider check much to the amusement of the locals. I hollered in Spanish “I'm afraid of spiders. I hate spiders.” Unfortunately, the word for spider in Spanish is very close to the word for sand. You guessed it...I was screaming about my fear of sand, not spiders. Something definitely got lost in the translation.

In Fiji, I was admiring a cool t-shirt hanging on the wall in a little rural shop, thinking I'd buy it as a gift. Until...a very large brown hairy spider crawled out from behind it...a huntsman. The buying decision was immediately recanted and this buyer made tracks.

Access from the boat to the lovely resort at Palmlea in Vanua Levu, Fiji was along a beautiful tree-lined, grassy path. Several huge yellow orb spiders strung webs between the trees and hung about 10-15 feet over the pathway. There was definitely enough head clearance, but I cringed and hurried my step every time we walked up that path.

So here we are in Australia where some 2,000+ spider species live...that's about 1/17 of the worldwide identified 35,000 spider species. Scientists think there are probably many more unidentified species...but we really don't need to go there. Of the 2,000 species here, only about 17 species are harmless to humans. I was scared to death that I'd meet up with a Sydney funnel web spider when we were in Sydney or a Blue Mountain funnel web when we went traipsing through the Blue Mountains with Doug & Fay last year. Our Aussie friends, David and Marly, sent us a funny YouTube video about the red back spiders that have a penchant for dunnies (outhouses). They especially like to hang out under the toilet seat. After the floods in Waga Waga this year, millions of sheet weaver spiders invaded the area covering the whole town in webs that looked like snow. Yuck!

Heading into the toilet block here in the marina the other day, I didn't notice a large huntsman all scrunched up in a corner of the toilet stall about three feet away from where I was sitting. I was in a no-move situation when I spotted him. He stretched. I cringed. He moved. I shuddered. I spoke to him calmly and passively. “Don't move, you big hairy bastard, till I'm done and out of here.” I don't usually swear, but I figured I'd stun him with my tough language. It worked. He froze. I finished, without taking my eye off him for a second. I slowly stood up; he inched. I repeated my harsh words with more venom in my voice this time. He remained stone still. I opened the door and slid past him like a wraith. Now every time I go into the toilet, it's an inconvenient, but necessary, time consuming effort to check the stall environs for eight-legged invaders or slithering ones or slimy ones. Since David & Marly's YouTube presentation, I check under the seat, too.

Though I hate spiders, I do appreciate their handiwork...all eight hands worth.