Tea For Two

It's now time to talk about Bonnie and Clyde ... another of the harrier pairs I've named. These two occupy a lovely little extinct volcanic crater and have been entertaining the locals (and me) with their courtship antics.

On a sunny spring morning, Bonnie and Clyde were doing their usual routine of calling, sky-dancing and general mosy-ing about. After a turn around the crater rim, Clyde dropped down for a rest while Bonnie soared over towards the lake area. Clouds of passerines and other birds flew up into the air - the safest bet when a harrier is about - and Bonnie returned after a couple of minutes, headed in the direction of the man of leisure, Clyde.

I had my camera poised and at the ready (that morning's goal had been to get some good shots of harrier for use in my study documents) and so I took advantage of Bonnie's endeavours, snapping happily away. I didn't pay much attention to the details of the shots at the time, knowing that I'd review them on the computer later.

So imagine my surprise/absolute delight a bit later when, after zooming in on an image that looked a bit funny, it revealed that there was someone (or rather, something) else along - unwittingly - for the ride. Grasped in Bonnie's talons was a medium-sized passerine (blackbird, song thrush?) and she was bringing home the bacon to share with hubby.

Although it's taken at a distance, this shot is so neat in it's incidental capture of a very rare moment. Enjoy!

Hunting for the Hunter

Today's field exploits saw me get horribly distracted by these wee things:

I couldn't help but to throw all previous plans to the wind as I madly stalked them around the tree base. The eight bunnies all eventually disappeared down the hole in the roots and I prepared to move on and back into a world of sanity. Not so, as around the very next corner sat seven more little balls of ridiculous cuteness, just waiting for me to while away time snapping their pictures as well.

Having appeased my need for ooh-ing and aaah-ing, I crossed the open space and took up a perch opposite where the bunnies were ... for although they were gorgeous tiny things, the other thought that came to mind was: bait.

I was completely ready to sacrifice these bunnies to the supremeness of a harrier, adding a new item to the list of things I have seen them scoop up, but alas, none came. The bunnies are safe for another day.

On the Wings of Love

Well courtship is, for the most part, over, with pairs formed and nesting territories established. I'm back to searching the skies in eternal hope of a glimpse of harrier, with one sighting a day enough to thrill me (my record has been six in a day - so close to my brave little tailor aspirations). The rarity of harriers at the moment is evidence that some of the ladies have got buns in the oven .... or rather, eggs in the nest.

With the females out of sight (the good old-fashioned confinement period from centuries ago) it's up to the males to be hunter-gatherer and food provider. Which, thankfully for the expectant mums, is what these birds excel in. It just makes life/work a lot harder for any harrier chasers (i.e. me)!

Ode to the Feathered Ones

If often wish, when I'm absorbed in watching harrier soar through the sky, that I was a writer. That I could put pen to paper and adequately compose poetry to match the majesty and spirit of these wonderful birds. But I'm not. Instead, I have to make do with reading the words of others who do a far better job than I could ever do.

Wings of an Eagle

Sometimes, it's the Wind,

Sometimes it's the Calm.

Something about clouds

Swirling around.

Sometimes its the wheat fields

as they dance in the light.

Or the sounds of the leaves

as they make their last flight.

The sounds of the ocean,

the waves as they crash,

Something so small or something so large,

Or even at times, it's nothing at all.

The splendor of the things,

that touch to the soul

Stir the depths of emotion,

from places unknown.

A feeling, there are but few words to describe,

It's of love and respect, excitement and calm

A place of perspective,

The center of peace.

A place once you have been there,

Your faith, will increase

A feeling of knowing,

Not in futures untold,

but that what ever life brings you,

You will carry on.

It's a feeling a flight,

High into the sky,

A place of such lightness

tears touch your eyes.

Not tears of fear, nor tears of pain,

Nor tears of sorrow,

though they can mingle and blend

Tears of a Joy, that can push you

to fear,

The fear of flying that we all hear.

But should you have the courage

to fly:

The courage to look on into the sky,

To gaze from the heights to the earth far below,

To feel the wind rush straight to your soul.

Your life will never

be what it once was

You'll find new beauty in the places you live,

You'll feel for another as if your own pain,

The Smiles you share, will come from the depths or your heart,

And the joys that it brings you,

There is nothing to compare,

Except of course,

The feeling of light;

With the Wings of an Eagle

The freedom of Flight.

by D.Enise

The Others

Although there's been many harrier to occupy my daily thoughts this year, it's not surprising to know that I have not found them at every site I've visited across Auckland. Of course, I'm always ever hopeful and scan the skies incessantly wherever I am. But sometimes there are simply no raptors to be found. In those instances, I let the 'others' entertain me.

The Captain and I

Over the last six weeks or so, the harrier have been busy a-courting and I've been busy watching them do so (voyeur, anyone??). I've also taken the opportunity to name the pairs that I've spent time with, as I do feel I've bonded somewhat with them. Over in East Tamaki are one of my main pairs who I've named Captain and Tenille. Don't ask why; I never liked their music, my parents never liked their music, but I just find it amusing (attribute this to crazy days out on my own in the field). How have I bonded with them? Case in point:

Yesterday, in delightful gale-force winds, Captain led me on a merry dance indeed. I must have traversed several k's, jogging back and forwards to keep him in sight as he cruised his territory on the hunt for a snack. Which would have been fine ... if I wasn't layered up to resemble a marshmallow in protection against the cold, if there hadn't been horizontal rain to accompany the howling wind, if the howling wind wasn't making my eyes water so much I could barely see and if my gumboots hadn't both decided that was the day to spring a leak ...

Perhaps it was his form of payback for the less-than-cool name, because I swear Captain was enjoying watching me stumble and mutter my way across the blustery hillside. I was just very grateful indeed that the lawnmower men (see June's postings) were nowhere to be seen!

Wistful anthropomorphism aside, some of Captain and Tenille's movements are related to me being so close to their home turf; they will only allow a human to come so close to where they are before they move away. Bonnie and Clyde (I know! Cool, huh?!) however, well they're accustomed to people being a bit closer, due to the nature of their territory, so life is a bit easier when I'm with them. But that's a story for another day.

Lines and Lines and Lines and Lines and ...

Libraries. Places where knowledge abounds and is limitless. Sources of wisdom and inspiration, solitude and reflection, investigation and discovery. And raptor books.

One fantastic aspect of my research has involved trawling libraries in search of texts that relate to my topic. However, I cannot be blamed for any side-tracking on birds of prey other than hawks. A favoured rainy day pastime, delving into a world of the feathered fearless has seen me lose track of the hours on numerous occasions; falcon, hawk, eagle, kite, buzzard, kestrel or owl, the family does not matter. What matters is that these incredible birds capture one's heart and spirit and the amount of skill and pure instinct they posses is simply intangible for a feeble human to ever understand.

Great horned owl, Vancouver, Canada

"A raptor's vision is the sharpest of all living creatures ... In birds of prey, the eyes weigh more than the brain. The two eyes are twice as large as the brain itself." (Sy Montgomery, Birdology) I may not have the eyes of a raptor but I know the ones I see, be it on the page or on the glove, never fail to take my breath away.

Golden eagle, Terelj National park, Mongolia