Birds, birds

.

After so many failed attempts at finding the snow geese, we had set off on Saturday with no particular expectations although a sighting had been reported two days prior.

Even if we didn’t see geese, it’s always fun to explore new territory.

But finding them was a thrill.

.

For as long as I can remember, I have adored birds. When staying with my mother’s family in Wiltshire, I loved going to visit the budgies in my uncle George’s aviary. Presumably that is how we acquired Happy and Pippy who came to live with us in Earl’s Court where they were free to fly through the entire two storied flat. They knew how to negotiate the stairwell, but I suspect they gravitated to the warmer downstairs, as did we!

My parents did not care for animals but they liked birds and found the budgies amusing.

Father built a huge birdcage, though it never contained them. It was where their seed and water bowls were. Dad had made a door, but the birds soon learned how to open it.

Happy had an unfortunately short life, but Pippy was with us until just before we left England in 1956. She conveniently dropped dead mid-flight one day, prompting my brother to say darkly that we now had one less problem to deal with.

Pippy was supposed to be a boy budgie, right up to the time she laid an egg in my mother’s cleavage. That bird was a character. Her seed was kept in a large Bournvita can on a high shelf in the kitchen. Budgies like to throw things down, but that can was heavy. Never the less, one day it got pushed off the shelf almost on my brother’s head. Pippy looked pleased!

Budgerigars are also very destructive, as Peter learned when his library card was shredded.

Over the years my parents had many budgies, most of which were called after my brother who’d been left behind in England. I always enjoyed interacting with them, having them sit on a finger and biff me with their beak. Those beaks are very sharp and can peck quite savagely.

But they very seldom did. Those budgies were my friends.

.

Sometimes Mum took us to feed gulls along the banks of the Thames and I remember also seeing the pigeons at Trafalgar Square which I think in those days you were allowed to feed.

During the six years we lived in Asia, I remember being very aware of all sorts of bird life, but it never occurred to me to make notes or to pay attention to their specific type. I liked them, but I’m sure I took for granted that there would always be birds. As a child, I didn’t regard viewing different species as the privilege I came to see that it was.

.

It was not until very much later that I became better focused and I am sure it was the result of travelling with keen birders.

My travelling buddy Tim organised us with a cruise to the Falkland Islands and Antarctica, one of the main attractions of which was abundant bird life. Aboard ship we had great lecturers and their enthusiasm was infectious.

Notably, one of the birders was a blind woman.

.

One of those lectures covered the work of the wonderful ornithologist and conservationist Sir Peter Scott who was also a brilliant artist. Years later I visited his Wildfowl Trust at Slimbridge on the Severn estuary which I count as one of my most favourite experiences.

The call of geese always brings back that happy memory.

On cliffs in the Falklands we walked – with care – in penguin rookeries, the sound and smell of which was memorable. Black-browed albatrosses nested among the penguins, undisturbed by human visitors. To see those magnificent birds close-up was so special, another favourite experience.

A matter of months later, that coastline was being shelled by the Argentine Navy. It had been the most peaceful place imaginable and the news was heart breaking. Luckily, the conflict was soon resolved. We returned a year or so later to find not a great deal had changed although one had to avoid walking where there might be landmines. The rookeries were the same but as we wandered about a Harrier jet flew over very low setting the penguins squawking and braying.

Since that time tourism has spread its greedy fingers. We had gone in a tiny expedition ship with responsibly-minded travellers, but we unfortunately paved the way for large cruise ships. I have not seen reports of the effect they have had, but it cannot be good.

.

People want to visit interesting and extraordinary places. I certainly took every opportunity available, yet there were times when I believed it was not right. Small numbers of visitors following careful guidelines is one thing, but I suspected that a trickle would soon become a flood. Whoever could have imagined a queue to climb Mt Everest? Madness.

How do you put the genie back in the bottle?

.

Although we’d only seen the geese from a distance and Dead Creek had been otherwise very quiet, we’d made a good find. At different times of year it seems one may expect to see quite a variety of bird life. The surrounding countryside is also very pleasant and as we drove along we noticed many side turns we would like to explore.

.

What is it about a wide, low cloud bank spreading across an open plain?

Try as I might, I can’t quite put my finger on why it so appeals to me.

Perhaps it’s the emptiness.

.

At times it grew quite dark, but no rain came that day.

.