I'm A Bird Watcher

Have you ever heard of a "thing" called the "Big Year"?

Apparently, amateur birdwatchers venture out into the wilds of the planet in order to see how many different species of our avian friends they can spot in a single calendar year. They are absolutely on the honour system, they spend a shitload of money traversing the globe, and the only thing that they are permitted to shoot is a camera. Sometimes the contest is done within a single geographic area and sometimes the entire world is in play. The current record for a Big Year in North America is 839 species while the world big year record of 6,852 species was set in 2016 by Arjan Dwarshuis of the Netherlands.

The first time I was made aware of the Big Year was in a movie of the same title starring Steve Martin, Jack Black, and Owen Wilson. Frankly, I thought the entire escapade was ridiculous and boring as hell but guess what...

I've become one of those people.

I am officially a bird-watching fanatic. Sign me up for a membership in the Audubon Society. Take me to the wilds of the continents to discover the mating habits of the Great Blue Heron or perhaps the Baltimore Oriole. My fascination is real and deep. Today, I put an app on my phone that will help identify various species by a simple photograph and attended a lecture on the endemic and indigenous fowl of the Galápagos Islands. I am in it up to my armpits.

And nothing helps to stoke a fascination and a burgeoning hobby like an eco-vacation. I find myself looking up into the sky as often as I do onto the ground or into the water. I was truly amazed by the diving and feeding habits of the Galápagos brown pelicans that we saw today at dusk of the beaches at Rabida Island. I loved that the Galápagos flycatcher that landed on The Husband's camera lens this morning on Santiago, was so fearless that he was almost posing for the shot. The flamingos that came to feed in a tidal pool in the red sands of Rabida were so at peace with us idiot tourists that they didn't even seem to mind us photographing their evening meal. The American oystercatcher was almost proud and puffing to show off her two eggs in her nest on the black volcanic rocks of Santiago. And me...I just lapped it all up like a thirsty puppy.

The sea lions (we saw a mom nursing her pup. Bestill my heart.), fur seals, various varieties of crab, and...yes...those weird-assed iguanas and lizards are truly something to see but for me, it was the birds. Sorry, Mom. I know that you have a fascination with the reptiles but I will stick with the marine mammals and the brilliantly feathered.

A few tidbits.

1. We haven't snorkelled yet and that is my doing. The Husband is unable to breathe out of a tube and I simply didn't want to go without him. There will be other opportunities still to come, so stop nagging me, Twin Son's Better Half. 😉

2. We are incredibly impressed with Celebrity and this tour. If anybody wants to ask me questions for a future trip, private message me. My only mistake so far was not bringing water shoes. Those wet landings in bare feet are making for some interesting markings on my soles.

3. My vegetarian food choice has been very much validated and not for the reasons you might think. I am watching the food chain and natural selection happen in real-time while here and I have no illusions about eating meat, but the ecosystem is so very fragile that one alteration to even the smallest of lichen or plankton can have catastrophic consequences on the whole. I feel very strongly that the planet is in crisis and doing my small part to keep it in balance is important. We all have choices to make, and I am certainly not advocating that anyone choose to become vegetarian or vegan, but practicing some conscientious eating is something that we all should strive for.

4. If you aren't following The Husband on either Instagram or Facebook, you are missing out on the best photography on this tour. If you are reading this and don't know him, ask a friend to send you his info. A few of his masterpieces can be seen below.

Wordless Wednesday...A Chance to Remember That There Is Still Beauty In The World

I promised positive images and stories until the conclusion of the American shitshow. I am finding suitable distractions more and more difficult to come by given how saturated the media coverage has been. Thank God for a seven game World Series. A friend remarked this morning that he wished it could be best of eleven so that it would get us through Tuesday.

In any case, this image comes from our recent trip to Alaska. The excitement I felt seeing these graceful creatures in their natural homes was immeasureable. We humans don't always do coexistence well. Alaskans are a gigantic leap ahead in that regard.

Note: I have decided to blog through November as the mood suits. There will be photos, recipes, and music just as in other years, but the stories will be organic and not pressured. I seem to work better that way. If I manage 30 in 30, great. If not, also great. I promise that there will be enough content for all. Thanks to all who support this space. I look forward to a month of interactions. 

Routine Is Not An Ugly Word

One of the many things that I had hoped to accomplish following my retirement was to dispense with daily schedules. I really wanted to let my life choices dictate the clock and the calendar, rather than allowing the clock and the calendar to dictate my life choices. I certainly didn't have any grand notions of existing within a "Freedom 55"  commercial at the still very youngish age of 52. Me sail away on a schooner? Yah...not with my motion sickness. Instead, I saw the the future as a giant tabula rasa that could only be limited by personal preferences.

Naïveté is a peculiar circumstance.

While it is true that part of my mind knows that there is nothing stopping me from staying in bed until late morning on occasion to luxuriously read the newspaper, another part screams obscenities at me if I laze around for too long. My reason says "Relax. Take your time.", while my body yells "Enough already you lazy arse. Get your shit together and let's get moving." And so it is that I find myself back into an early morning exercise regime. 

While I am comfortably ensconced in The Southern Home, the majority of that activity consists of a lengthy early morning walk, either around the neighbourhood or down on the beach. After all, we have all been told that sitting is the new smoking, and since I have never so much as taken a puff, I figure that I need to get some real value out of my $99.00 FitBit Flex. 

It's funny. Even though my schedule has become much more fluid and flexible, the world around me, both human and natural, obviously still adhere to theirs. During those walks, I have encountered the same school children waiting for their buses, the same landscapers going about their business, the same locals exercising their dogs, and the same customers at Starbucks purchasing their morning caffeine injections. That's normal and to be expected. What was gloriously unexpected was my encountering of the same wildlife, in the same locations, doing exactly the same things every single morning. There is the squirrel in the park who actually responds to my mother's call and expectantly waits for bits to be dropped. (I won't allow her to give in to her better urges simply because he is a squirrel and I consider his northern cousins to be mortal enemies.) There is the large orange iguana who has taken up residence with his family in the mangrove trees abutting the Intracostal near our home. But I am most totally engaged with these White Ibises who cross my path daily.

As you can see, they are unfazed by human involvement and they are just quietly going about their morning routine, which usually consists of breakfast and crossing the street. Note to self: Resist urge to tell Ibis crossing the street joke.

They are awkward looking creatures who are as ubiquitous down here as sparrows are up north, but there is something about their patterns that has me mesmerized. I see them every single morning on my walk, and then miraculously, every single evening at dusk, an entire flock (I'd like to think it is the same birds) flies in perfect formation low in the sky right in front of my balcony. I could swear that they are dipping their wings in a familiar salute to me as they pass. (I have tried on several occasions to grab a photo or video clip, but they simply move too quickly and I am simply not that great a photographer.) I know it seems crazy, but it feels like my own remarkable interspecies moment. I have actually taken to parking myself on the balcony for an hour or so before dusk waiting for my friends to arrive. It is a magical moment that I now joyfully anticipate.

Yesterday as I watched my new friends perform their evening ritual, it struck me that schedules aren't the evil notions that I had made them out to be. Rather, it is how and what we choose to fill them with that truly matters. So far, mine doesn't suck.