Sometimes we are witness to some of the most spectacular scenes that nature has to offer. And also on occasion she surprises us with the unusual or unexpected. On those very rare occasions we get both.
Thinking the water levels had dropped sufficiently I headed out the night before last night to recover my hide at the Peregrine’s canyon. As usual the walk in was rife with beauty. Snow Buntings and American Pipits flitted amongst the rocks, and wildflowers rushed towards their peak abundance. Some rivulets had almost disappeared but others had appeared, no longer covered with snow.
As I approached that canyon, but still some distance from it, I saw a bird drop down in the Canyon. Lifting my binoculars I was surprised to see a Snow Goose and I followed it down until it disappeared. As I dropped down to the river there it was, and although I ducked behind the hill it flew up while I was fiddling with the camera and tripod. It circled around and landed back on the tundra I had just come from.
Climbing up the other side I came across scattered bunches of Lapland Rosebay, a small beautifully fragrant, purple flower that I had never noticed here before. When I paused to photograph some, the Snow Goose passed by again, crossing to the tundra beyond.
As I neared the hide, which had been knocked down by the wind, the male falcon launched himself across the canyon and circled me, screaming at me to leave. He spent more time screaming at me than in the past, and I hoped that perhaps there would be eyasses visible at the aerie but alas there were not.
After I packed everything away I sat against the rock, hoping I could still get some decent photos. The male had been quiet for some time and I suspected that he was watching me from a perch somewhere. Sure enough, up and across the canyon he was perched, watching over me, making sure I wasn’t any more of a threat.
I snapped some photos, but he was still a long way off,
and after awhile I settled back down against the rock. Suddenly, the Snow Goose flew by, a little below me, and I trained my binoculars on it, following it across the mouth of the canyon. Wham! Out of nowhere the Peregrine appeared, and struck the goose on it’s back. The Snow Goose peeled away and the Peregrine landed directly across the canyon from me.
Because the bird seemingly came out of nowhere I quickly scanned the area where the male had been perched but he was gone, so it had been him. But when I turned back to grab some photos now that he was closer I couldn’t find him. And then as I searched for him… the unexpected.
On a shelf, directly above the Peregrine’s aerie was a second Snow Goose. Only its head and neck, shining bright white and rusty in the sun, were visible. I quickly put the camera on it to snap a shot… beep… beep… beep…. I had set the camera on self-timer, so I could use a lower shutter speed and increase my field of view while shooting the Peregrine’s photo. As the ten seconds ticked down I watched the goose slowly lower its head until it disappeared from view just before the shutter tripped.
Believe it or not there is a goose in this picture, you just can’t see it.
I think (but can’t prove without another trip and more climbing) that these geese have a nest up there. A dangerous neighbourhood to be sure, what with a precipitous drop for any new goslings, not to mention a hungry Peregrine family in the apartment below.
I and the Bird, the premiere bird carnival on the web, celebrates its third anniversary this week, and the current edition is themed around the question…why are you still bird blogging? Truth be told, I wasn’t going to contribute. When I tried to think of an interesting way to frame a response I couldn’t. And honestly, it is a question (albeit in a different context or tone) that I’ve been asking myself lately. Just why am I still blogging?
I’ve been thinking lately that the House blog has pretty much run it’s course. The events that occur annually I’ll be writing about for the fourth time, and struggling to make it fresh. And I think my readers have come to the same conclusion, my page hits are at their lowest in two years this month. But as I sat there composing a post about the falcons and the geese I came to realize something.
I believe that for most of us there is a fundamental hmm… desire to share our experiences, and to validate what we felt or took part in during those events. I wanted to turn to the person next to me and say “Wow! Did you see that!” when the Peregrine struck, but of course there was no one there. I phoned Leah on the Satellite phone to let her know I was on my way back, and said “I can’t wait to tell you what I saw here.” We want, desire, crave to talk about experiences, especially the standout ones.
There’s an old joke about a man of the cloth (feel free to use what ever faith, religion or belief that suits you), who is on his way to the church very early one Sabbath to prepare for the day’s services. As he walks past the local golf course he sees that there is no one around, and thinks “I’ve got lots of time, what will it matter if I play a couple of holes.” Saint Peter (again feel free to use whomever) looks down just as he’s taking a couple of practice swings at the first tee and says to God (Allah, Yagwey….) “Look at this. Are you going to let him get away with that on the Sabbath?” God glances down and says “I’ll take care of it.” Teeing off the man hits a beautiful drive, it bounces a couple of times and rolls right in the cup, a hole in one! Saint Peter, who has been watching says “I thought you were going to do something about this.” and God replies…. “So who is he going to tell?”
So why am I still blogging about birds (and other things)? Mostly because I enjoy this conversation I have with friends and perfect strangers all around the world. I enjoy sharing my “wow” moments, as well as the mundane ones. I need someone to tell.
Comments
12 responses
A good one for the third anniversary Clare, great experiences.
Clare,
I feel the same way right now too. I also have a blog to connect because I feel my interests and concerns are fairly unique where I live. The blog is a way for me to interact with others that have similar interests and it helps me feel a lot less isolated.
I hope you keep blogging and even if it is something you feel is repetitious. Rest assured there are those of us “out here” that would miss our connection to a special place through your eyes.
Hi, and I not only keep current with your blog, but in the last 2 weeks have introduced 2 new people to it–friends here in Minnesota who love the North, with a special love for the high Arctic… and for us all, this fierce love is tinged with rue and worry as the climate shifts. So, what you write–about the fauna, flora, land and people–is very important to us, and we thank you.
Peace and Thanks.
What a ‘wow’ moment, Clare. I love your pictures where you show us where the bird is even though we can’t see it. 🙂 I like to kid myself that I can almost see it! Surely it is THAT white spot — it must be! Your birding experiences are so personal and yet so often distant. It’s wonderful.
Hey, I hope you keep blogging, your photos alone are worth the price of admission. I haven’t found your posts to be too repetitive- I don’t read all the birding ones unless there’s a good hike attached (and lately there has been!), but I love to keep in touch with Arctic Bay through your blog and Darcy’s too. Sure hope to make it back there sometime soon (heading to Grise Fiord next week though- whoohoo!)
I’m up to my eyeballs in editing work right now, Clare, so blogging and commenting has mostly been on hold for a while. But, I have to say something here — except the other commenters have already said it. Still, it’s worth repeating: The house is an insight into a world in which, sadly, I doubt I’ll ever manage to travel but which, nevertheless, remains important to me. Your writing and photos do share that world wonderfully, and I’d greatly miss my virtual travels there if you did run out of energy for posting. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with repetition (I blogged on that earlier this year). By showing and explaining in slightly different ways, repetition adds depth and colour — two characteristics that typify your blog. Hang in there, Clare, for all of us out here, right across the globe, who delight in visiting.
And ignore the declining hits — more and more people use feed readers, so they won’t register in the counts. In any case, it’s the quality of readership that matters, not the quantity ;^)
This is why I blog…
So why am I still blogging about birds (and other things)? Mostly because I enjoy this conversation I have with friends and perfect strangers all around the world. I enjoy sharing my “wow” moments, as well as the mundane ones. I need someone to tell.
But Clare said it.
Thank you, Sinnerman. I greatly enjoyed your contribution also. And for the opportunity to visit Gippsland through your words and photos.
Hi John. Prairie Ice is a perfect example of the great experience this has been in connecting with great people around the world. But for both of us birding at the Ushuaia dump, and writing about it on line we may have never found each other’s blog.
Hi Molly, Thank you for stopping by and for spreading the word to others. I’m currently watching the ice in Arctic Bay breaking up, again about a week early, but when I think about writing about it all I can think of is “I’ve said that already”. Thanks to your comment I feel I should at least make an attempt.
Thanks Liza Lee. It was one of the best “wow” moments I’ve had for awhile. I’ve seen Peregrine in hunting stoops quite a few times but this was so unexpected. But alas there is no visible bit of white in that photo that is actually the goose. It timed the lowering of it’s head perfectly.
Thanks Pete. What are you editing? A book of yours? What a great book that would be. I still enjoy the writing for the most part but more and more I wonder if I’m flogging a dead horse so to speak. That I should be showing something fresher, and can’t. And as much as I’d like to say I don’t care about less hits, for some bizarre reason I do, something that seems out of place with who I like to think I am.
When I re-read the post I worried that I came across as “Nobody loves me anymore, I’m taking my ball and going home”. But that isn’t what I wanted to convey. The comment about the hits was just that it was re-affirming how I’m feeling… that the blog has pretty much run its course and that there were other things that people were better spending their time at. I’d hate for people to think that the post was a sad plea for people to love me more.
Thanks Dave. Your blogs are other great examples of the great people I’ve met through this medium. I always enjoy my visits to Alaska through your posts.
Kia ora Clare,
Yours has become a place I often return and look forward to doing so. Even in traversing familiar terrain there is something new. Kia ora for sharing.
Rangimarie,
Robb
Thanks Robb, I enjoy the sharing, it just feels tired sometimes.
Nancy,
I missed thanking you for your comment. I laughed when I read that the photos were worth the price of admission… It reminded me of, Tom Sawyer I think (but perhaps Huck Finn). There is a line about the Reverend Mr. Sprague, essentially saying he preached for free… and was worth every penny, in other words he wasn’t worth anything. Have fun in Grise…
Hi Clare,
I’m just catching up on some blog reading and have arrived late to the party, but just wanted to say “yes” to what everyone above has commented. Your photos are wonderful, and your writing opens a window into a part of the world that few will ever have a chance to visit. On the topic of blogging, I know how you feel regarding not knowing if you have anything new to write about. That happens to me quite a lot these days. Also, my life has become pretty complicated in recent months, so finding time to sit down and write a blog post is sometimes difficult. That said, the way I’m approaching things these days is that I just write when I feel inclined — usually when I see and photograph something that I’d like to share with others — much as how you shared this wonderful birding story with us. I think that approach keeps the fun and interest in blogging alive.
– bev