"Memorable" birds
Jul 1, 2013 8:43:02 GMT
Post by Admin on Jul 1, 2013 8:43:02 GMT
I was thinking the other night: what bird species has given me my best bird memories at some point in my life?
On the BBC Wildlife forum, I seem to recall paying homage to the starlings of Newcastle once upon a time. Then, I've also written essays on blackbirds and kestrels, so these obviously mean a great deal to me.
But the memory that tops these for me was spent on the island of Millport as part of my second year zoology field trip. There we were, in a field station cabin, a rag-tag bunch of zoology students that liked to party. The professor was reading out a list of mini-projects for each student to choose as the end of the field trip approached. "Alarm calls in oyster catchers" was read out. So after a while, I raised my hand. A sweet young lady then also raised her hand. Her name was Jo and she was in my tutor group (I knew her a little from the first two years and would end up really liking the young woman by the end of the third). The projects were supposed to be individual projects - that much had been made clear. But the professor (who I don't think liked me that much
), accepted we could both do it, so long as we did it together. The three of us were in agreement.
So, picking up the sound recording equipment (a mic, speakers, a cassette player and a loop tape), Jo and I headed to the beach (it was summer, but NOT bikini weather - not that I look good in one, anyway! ). It would have been unprofessional also, I guess, and could have scared the birds (though that was actually the point of the whole exercise, scaring birds).
There we were hidden behind dunes waiting for mixed flocks of seabirds to settle (the project involved oystercatchers reacting to their own calls, those of other birds, and whether or not other birds reacted to oystercatcher calls). It was almost Mills and Boon stuff with me sprinting out, stumbling in the sand, waving my arms, trying to get the birds to panic. I say mills & boon stuff (as in like 'songs for lovers' ads involving couples running up and down in the surf, falling over, conveniently, as they did); it just lacked two ingredients: background music and Jo accompanying me as I fell about on the beach. She was doing the recording!
It must have looked silly but running on beaches can be difficult - you tend to lose your footing, a lot.
Anyway, the birds panicked (probably vented their anger on me from above in the form of guano - this detail I've forgotten) and we got our recordings. Then, we had to stalk other birds, hiding behind dunes, sh!tting them up by playing back the alarm calls!
The project was a great success (kind of, I forget the exact results, but I'm pretty sure every bird flies when they hear annoying panicked oystercatchers screeching in their vicinity - what wouldn't?). Jo and I became closer friends (until the end of the course, anyway) though lurve didn't quite blossom. I didn't really want it to, and maybe she didn't. Maybe I was reading more into it also, than really was there.
Anyway, I thought I'd share the story. Oyster catchers always get me wanting to chase them, whenever I see an image of one!
Do you have a bird species that you can say, pretty much for certain, "it's the bird that's given me my best bird memories"?
On the BBC Wildlife forum, I seem to recall paying homage to the starlings of Newcastle once upon a time. Then, I've also written essays on blackbirds and kestrels, so these obviously mean a great deal to me.
But the memory that tops these for me was spent on the island of Millport as part of my second year zoology field trip. There we were, in a field station cabin, a rag-tag bunch of zoology students that liked to party. The professor was reading out a list of mini-projects for each student to choose as the end of the field trip approached. "Alarm calls in oyster catchers" was read out. So after a while, I raised my hand. A sweet young lady then also raised her hand. Her name was Jo and she was in my tutor group (I knew her a little from the first two years and would end up really liking the young woman by the end of the third). The projects were supposed to be individual projects - that much had been made clear. But the professor (who I don't think liked me that much
), accepted we could both do it, so long as we did it together. The three of us were in agreement.So, picking up the sound recording equipment (a mic, speakers, a cassette player and a loop tape), Jo and I headed to the beach (it was summer, but NOT bikini weather - not that I look good in one, anyway!
). It would have been unprofessional also, I guess, and could have scared the birds (though that was actually the point of the whole exercise, scaring birds).There we were hidden behind dunes waiting for mixed flocks of seabirds to settle (the project involved oystercatchers reacting to their own calls, those of other birds, and whether or not other birds reacted to oystercatcher calls). It was almost Mills and Boon stuff with me sprinting out, stumbling in the sand, waving my arms, trying to get the birds to panic. I say mills & boon stuff (as in like 'songs for lovers' ads involving couples running up and down in the surf, falling over, conveniently, as they did); it just lacked two ingredients: background music and Jo accompanying me as I fell about on the beach. She was doing the recording!
It must have looked silly but running on beaches can be difficult - you tend to lose your footing, a lot.
Anyway, the birds panicked (probably vented their anger on me from above in the form of guano - this detail I've forgotten) and we got our recordings. Then, we had to stalk other birds, hiding behind dunes, sh!tting them up by playing back the alarm calls!
The project was a great success (kind of, I forget the exact results, but I'm pretty sure every bird flies when they hear annoying panicked oystercatchers screeching in their vicinity - what wouldn't?). Jo and I became closer friends (until the end of the course, anyway) though lurve didn't quite blossom. I didn't really want it to, and maybe she didn't. Maybe I was reading more into it also, than really was there.
Anyway, I thought I'd share the story. Oyster catchers always get me wanting to chase them, whenever I see an image of one!
Do you have a bird species that you can say, pretty much for certain, "it's the bird that's given me my best bird memories"?
