Tuesday 29 August 2017

Birding - the poster child of an on-demand generation


Weaned on rarity reports, has birding become the outdoor poster child for an on-demand generation?


It's pay-per-view reporting - pick & choose - get there - tick it. Load it - boast it & confine the field-clip to a binary yes or no. Life's an adventure: a paper-bag of water - seeping madness. It's also sweeter on the soul running uphill against time. Keeps us chirpy.

Is there anything more annoying, less-relaxing even, than the chime of a mega email? Mac, my weekday pro@home / password confidant & recipient of single-fingered-typing, [usually given the weekend off, btw.], blinked in some irritation, I thought unfairly, when I strolled past dressed in slippers & a gown. The Clock-on-the-Wall confirmed my suspicions. It was, in fact, late afternoon on Saturday the 27th of August. Most times we argue these things; the clock & I.  Damn the clock - & damn the mirror too: frivolous, merciless swine living in cahoots to make my life a misery one glare at a time! The mirror was excluded from the glanced confirmation - Mirror's a bloody liar anyway.


The mail's message was simple enough - get down to Port Elizabeth's (PE) Tankatara Pan. South Africa's 1st Little-ringed Plover & a Citrine Wagtail had made themselves temporarily at home; a fact attested to by some local birder-buddies. The wagtail was worth the travel on its own - the plover left nothing in the option's-bag other than 'Go, Go..Go' [That's what it said]. As usual we had to travel. Johannesburg [JHB] isn't renowned for its salt pans unless you count the guilt-laced puddles outside the gym on a Monday morning. 


...left nothing in the option's-bag other than 'Go, Go..Go'


Our overnight bag: 2 x hats | 5 x lenses | 2 x camera bodies 
Walking to PE is doable but at a pace slow & steady. Slow wouldn't do - steady's fine. That meant we'd have to teleport, fly or drive. Teleportation is a stew at the other end & a tailor's nightmare. Flights to PE, ex-JHB, are a snigger at common-sense. Most depart after brunch & make landfall in time for tea - too much laissez faire for the camera-jockies / local yokels to do irreparable damage to the bird's psyche. We'd have to be on site early - soothe the bird's nerves, so to speak. 

The only viable flight (7am dept.) was on Mango; an orange-coded, state-owned / low-cost airline. I, however, like my fruit sun-ripened - cleaned, cut & well-presented. Don't give me a spoon either - a fork will do. We don't fly on fruit, silly & even if we wanted to, the flight was SOLD; I suspect to other Little-peeps. 

A cold start - the odometer said JACKPOT
Drive, then - on an immediate turnaround basis, in time for Monday's office - a round trip of 2300 kilometres. In the car, window/aisle seats fuse comfort & a view; the leg-room's fair, the luggage-allowance generous & the food okay. We left at 6pm [... in a cloud of burnt rubber], on Saturday the 27th of August - little more than an hour after 'Go, Go..Go'! 

By 9pm (Sat 27th) the adrenaline had lost its kick, looked edgy; a little bored. The Free State droned by in waves of blackness. Had we had a light we'd have seen some grass; a tree, maybe. 

The witching hour had come & gone. At 1:45am (Sun 28th) the heavens blazed ice-cold - an army of light-pricks in an otherwise featureless sky. The odometer stared back balefully - I blinked, I think. In the east, lightening creased the sky - disappeared & flashed again somewhere else. A few spots of rain harried the parched lands; insurance against the fire-goblins that must surely live again amongst the trees & grass. Sounds of silence answered an enquired glance in the rearview mirror & in the seat alongside.

At a service-station one of the super-links stood parked in contemplation - meditating or something. Fair enough - we are all searching for dharma & in truth, as my 2am face may have suggested, the path to the driver's enlightenment lay south - somewhere on the coast!

At about 3am the slosh of some jungle-juice, alcohol-free fire water, reminded of a more focused time. The coffee-flasks lay abandoned: scattered in the footwell - rolling with the punches as the road twisted this way / that way.



In the east the sun's coronation was an hour or two down the road - the cat's-eyes blinked. I winked back. On the handsfree, David Gilmour strummed a solo & the Fender bled its soul - I drove on, Comfortably Numb. Things were hotting up.

The darkest hour, just before the dawn, lay an hour behind us. The moment had arrived. Tankatara Pan had come to life - the tension hummed. At 6:30am other hopefuls joined us at the fence.

We faced the same logistical dilemma home-invaders detest: - "Do we climb over or through this fence?" In the end the physical attributes of each individual decided the point. Those tall enough - stepped over; the others bobbed-through. Partnered-pairs assisted during the up&over / bend&bob formalities. A little later, in the dash for the box seats ie: when the bird had made itself known, we had a fall. No one wants an injury, least of all cuts & scrapes not covered in the Workers' Comp. Fortunately the lady's hurts were metaphysical, rather than corporeal & her graciousness, in public, is something to be proud of. Had it been me I might have curled up and sucked a thumb.


The bird was further over there - & not conveniently nearer the crossing from where we'd made our trespass. Somebody there said 'I see you' - & 'we heard them, from over here'.. At that time we were scoping / glassing the mudflats from far enough away to summon the SALT (large telescope). Nobody wants to spoil the sport - the fear of being fingered, real! Like a bag of cats we clawed our way through bushpockets of shrub to the locale nearest the Plover.

The Little-ringed contemplated our group from further away than we had hoped - the yellow eye-ring: sunshine for the soul & the obvious focal point. The legs were nothing to scoff at either. Some brown feathering in the ear coverts hinted at a 'she-bird' - in an androgynous world a probable femme fatale then. We looked back - bobbing from scope to scope, like old friends - pressure-pressed eye-rings of our own.          'I see you...'

Some of us drifted off to find the Citrine Wagtail - another pearl for the sub-region. The Citrine is notoriously restless - here today - gone a bit later. Seen in the corner of Pan 2, we thought we'd start our vigil there. That's a reasonable thing to do I would think?


That's me in the corner ... [not]
Most twitches involve some social-interaction with people who share the common interest / others are old friends on the circuit. It's a circuit we identify with; others do too. Having seen the targeted bird, people become more relaxed and talk about life's ups & downs [ie: birding].

We were gathered in a loose group of locals & outta-towners, chatting. Some 70 paces further up the pan some other local birders had set up camp - good vantage on the elevated burm adjacent the water - chairs mostly although I can't be sure if coffee wasn't a feature. There was a chill in the air. Limited boot space meant we'd left our waders back in JHB - ie: we were stood away from the edge of the pan talking quietly.

I heard the 'those peeeeEEple [people] are standing where we know the bird is going to land'  [x3 from 'The Chair' (on the burm) to some other interested party, on the legal side of the fence, out on the road & equidistant from 'The Chair' and our group. ie: A triangle of conflict then ...]

At the 3rd 'peeeeEEple ... blah blah ... get them to move.. blah blah' we were approached by 'Sir Whatsis-name', 'The Chair's' knight in waiting, hitherto on the road - the local butcher, baker / candlestick-maker. From about 30 paces we received the 1st animated 'get away' gesture - (a red flag). At 10 paces we were lambasted with 'get away - blah blah - you're in the way.. blah blah - we know the bird & it likes this corner.'

I assume he 'knew' the bird from the reported sighting first communicated the day before? I also assumed, at the time, that he was speaking for himself but it seems 'we' meant the locals who had claimed the vagrant as their own.

At one-&-a-bit paces (halitosis range) I might have mentioned to our host that birds have ears too & although we may have inadvertently strayed onto the vagrant's newly discovered fly-way, 'The Chair's' vocalisation left much to be desired. The fact that 'The Chair' was equidistant from the designated LZ & more conspicuous than any of us, was lost in translation.

To be fair I could have moved away without any fuss but don't presume matey. You know nothing of us - who we are or where we come from & do me a favour, introduce yourself to the group - you live close-by; that's the claim - nothing more.

Just before 'Sir Whatsis-name' turned away, he asked me, with a face like a freshly-smacked arse where I was from - I said 'Johannesburg' to which he replied - 'I thought so..'


'...with a face like a freshly-smacked arse..'


Alisha's gentle squeeze kept me on an even-keel but I'll say this - Come to JHB & we'll show you how to be gracious. It's just good-manners really / gutsy, old-fashioned hospitality. Incidentally, 'Sir Whatsis-name' took photos of our group [after our joust] - legalities notwithstanding, a closet people's-person / paparazzi then. We were well met by most local birders on the day - good peeeeEEple. As for the Citrine - no show - must have been us. Sorry.

Twitching does some interesting things to ordinary, simple folk. It's a kinda magic I think. The 'Mango-16' landed mid-morning & arrived on site, not much later. Will I ever forget the power-mince left-right-left of one of the JHB-listers; glass & cameras swinging in the sway. He marched 20-paces ahead of his crew: groupies desperately trying to toe the line.

We turned around at about 10:30am - arriving home just after 9:45pm on Sunday evening - a point raised by the Clock on the Wall - no doubt to wind me up. That's circa 28 hours on the road - good fun really. The mirror showed a haggard, unsmiling / ill-mannered lout but I've said it before - the Mirror's a liar. What a happy, happy day!



The mirror showed a haggard, unsmiling / ill-mannered lout but I've said it before - the Mirror's a liar. What a happy, happy day! 


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2 comments:

  1. Hey Mark, I was pleased to meet you briefly at the twitch. I am amazed at your writing - really enjoyed it.

    As an Eastern Cape local (now living in Cape Town but still loyal :-)) I want to apologize for this ugly aspect of your twitch... I hear your frustration and anger, and I am so pleased that you point it out! Thank you for your offer at true hospitality! We need more of that in South African birding circles - everywhere really... In the same way, please be assured of my hospitality when you are next in Cape Town. (Unfortunately I am sure we have similarly behaved individuals here as well - best to have Alisha closeby for that gentle squeeze again!)

    Kind regards,
    Garth Shaw

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    1. Kind words Garth. Thanks. Look us up next time you're in JHB. The way things seem to be progressing your end we could be in CPT soon for the next Strandfontein mega...

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