Wot? A Wacky World?

The Gannets of Cape St. Mary's August 2011
 

Or world out of wack. Or “What? Me Worry?”

On August 8^th this year, thousands and thousands of gannets flew away, en masse, from their nesting grounds on Cape St. Mary's, Newfoundland. Abandoning their solitary chick. Gannets have only one chick a year and safeguard it as we would our own babies. Both birds attending to its every need.

Word of mouth here spread the news. Nothing was published on the phenomenon. (Bird watching at Cape St.Mary's is a huge tourist industry. )

I now see on a Google search that there is finally something on this catastrophe in the Winnipeg Free Press where a biologist is attributing the vanishing bird-parents to the higher temperatures of our oceans.

Daughter was driving through Quebec recently and discovered, in a conversation with a local, that their gannets were falling dead from the skies. A phenomenon never seen before. A web search brings up nothing on this.

And this all brings to mind what other serious environmental wake-up calls are not being publicised. Media being bought and paid for like never before and all that.

Common Dreams struggles along, its lamp still held high, bringing our attention to the arctic ice disaster on a regular basis. The record breaking iceberg run past Newfoundland this past few months was startling to many of us. We dared to whisper: is this the last of the northern ice? How much is left?

And still we party, like there is no day of reckoning tomorrow.

 

And sure, maybe it's all we're capable of doing.

The Last Iris of Cape St. Mary's

We hiked out to Cape St. Mary's today. I have to admit I was nervous going out there after the Gulf of Mexico spill. The Gulf of Mexico is where the gannets winter and then fly all the way back up to Newfoundland in the spring to breed. I wrote about my concern for the birds here.
I am delighted to report that not only are the millions of birds back here this year but that they have spread their nesting grounds to another promontory in the same area.

The weather has been magnificent since Grandgirl arrived. We were lucky to catch one of the last few irises on the cape, a late bloomer because of the weather (above). Photo above taken by Grandgirl.

I also took one of her staring in awe at the gannets. I've been out there many times but still stop in my tracks at the number and sound of them all.



And a closeup of a pair, again taken by Grandgirl.

Gulf Oil Spill Affecting Newfoundland Birds

The far-reaching oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico is affecting one of my favourite places in the world - Cape St. Mary's, Newfoundland - where I spent my last few birthdays with my family. Cape St. Mary's in the spring hosts millions of sea-birds that winter in the Gulf of Mexico, the most famous being the gannets. I've written about them here.

Bill Montevecchi is a bird researcher and professor at Memorial University in St. John's. (CBC)Montevecchi and other bird scientists are planning to attach satellite tags to some birds in Newfoundland this summer in order to track them and see how they fare when they return to the Gulf next fall.

"You know, we can feel the long reach of that oil spill in Louisiana, Gulf of Mexico, here in Eastern Canada. What we do know is that some of our gannets are being oiled and the birds I've seen [pictures of from the Gulf of Mexico] are so heavily oiled that they are going to sink in a day or two."

"It seems to me it's just responsible to find out what's happening to our birds that are going back there from eastern Canada."

He worries birds that head south from Canada will land in oily water in the Gulf and die.

"The birds I've seen already, the most humane thing to do would be euthanasia. They are so covered with oil there is no way they are going to survive. It's a total assault on their body. It shuts down their oil glands. They ingest it. You can clean them on the outside but they are dying on the inside," said Montevecchi.

He said there is also fear that the oil spill in the Gulf may harm marine mammals, such as humpback whales, that come to Eastern Canada annually.

Read more here

My heart is breaking.

Fishnet in the Fog

My birthday was yesterday. And it was wonderful. A far, far different day from the plans I had tried to make and the plans that were then substituted. And quite perfect.

One of the lessons of life for me is that it unwinds itself exactly as it should and that I can't control it. And something I keep reminding myself of is that I have to appreciate what's right in front of my face and not look over and yon and bemoan the "lack of" in my life. I think the photo of the fishnet, taken yesterday in St. Bride's in the fog speaks a lot to me: Of not missing the small pile of beautiful colours lost in the surrounding harbour of boats.

I spent the day with the two people I love most in the world, my daughter and granddaughter.

We decided to defer our trip to the St. Pierre & Miquelon islands and spend the day at one of my favourite spots, Cape St. Mary's, which has hundreds of thousands of seabirds to view once you take a hike out on the stunning high cliffs which are covered with wild flowers.

The gannets were a powerful presence, both birds taking care of their chick whilst performing their extraordinarily sensuous "necking" with each other.

The site had an evening performance as an added bonus. with an Irish flavoured old style variety concert which included story telling and the uileann pipes followed by dessert and coffee.

Some days I treasure in my heart forever. This is one of them.

Thinking of the gannets at Cape St. Mary's

The snow of winter piled up against the back door. Brave sparrows defy the ingenious squirrels who could crack Fort Knox if there was birdseed inside.

And the gannets of the summer come to mind. The millions of seabirds at the Cape. Outnumbering in hundreds of thousands the avid birdwatchers, outkeening the whir of the cameras. We are in a cathedral of birdcalls. The stained glass of the cliffs and ocean the backdrop of eternity. The crash of the waves like the pipes of a celestial organ. We are cowed and awed. What place do we have on this precipice?

My soul yearns to go back there.

To stand in reverential humility.