[This is a reworked version of a post on my now defunct blogspot. Additional notes are as usual put in brackets like these. You can find the first entry of this series here]
Ohana
As I’m starting to write this, I have no real plan on how to outline it all. But then again, I never really have one ever, and things seem to work out [rereading all of this makes me hate my writing though. However, that’s in part because when I first wrote these, it felt more like something I had to do than something I wanted to do. There’s always a point in writing these entries in which it sorta turns into a hassle and I want to finish it asap. And of course that affects the quality. I just should take my time more when writing these whenever I do it again. Not want to absolutely finish it in one day. Personally I like my Africa posts the best. When using my particular style was still fresh and new. I can’t help but feeling it grew kinda stale with later entries. I do think it returned a bit after I had nothing going on and started up Somewhat Fascinating, but not near my peak of way-back-when. But I’m also very selfcritical. Anyway, here’s to hoping that my next series (which will probably be on my first internship for my current studies) will be pretty good again. If I’m even allowed to write about my doings there. Now, back on track]. It seems I mostly have short anecdotes and stories to tell, so there’s no real way to give a proper structure anyway [well, there probably is, but fuck it, ya know?].
First of all, let’s talk a little more about the field situation. It’s fun. I like it. It’s getting up early (around 6) but I tend to become a morning person wherever I go anyway. We do wind up getting back around 2 in the afternoon which makes me a very, very hungry man each and every time. Sometimes it’s even later because we decide to go and get a drink. On one occassion we even got to go to the husband’s of a friend of Diego’s wife place [or something]. It was closing down and we got some drinks and fried shrimp and codfish.
But you know what’s better than fried prawn?
FREE fried prawn.
Seriously though, I ate like eight of those things [they themselves called it tapas. It wasn’t just a wide variety kind you pay 30 bucks for or whatever else people think of when they hear “tapas”].
It’s where I met Diego’s family as well. His wife and two kids. She’s French, and they met in Scotland when Diego was doing his PhD there. So their kids have dual nationalities and can speak Spanish, French and English in varying degrees of skill. Makes you feel bad about knowing only one language, doesn’t it, America? [my French is atrocious though, through disuse. I don’t even feel comfortable saying I know French anymore. Let alone German]
On some other occassions (after Phase I was finished) we went to a place in Manzanares. It’s where Raquel lives (an assistant professor) and once brought her dog. Well, more of a beardog really. I used to call Bo, our Berner Sennen, a bear, but he stands nothing against Raquel’s dog [pretty sure it came from a shelter, or she found it on the streets. Spain has a rather big problem with homeless dogs, it seems. Not sure what a fluffball like that did in a warm country like Spain though].
The towns like Cerceda and Manzanares tend to have small streets and there’s cars everywhere. It’s a great contrast to the main roads which are wide and open. It also means inside a village, it’s a lot more chaotic trying to get somewhere. And parking space can be a huge problem. Hector also told me there’s no real rules anymore for driving between these buildings [you know, in practice]. If you want to stop in the middle of the road and look around, they just do it. Doesn’t matter if you block all traffic.
Which brings me to a thing I can’t help but noticing. There are a lot, a huge amount, of cyclists. Whole herds of them sometimes. And they can be annoying as the ones in Belgium (hence the nicknames wheeler “terrorists” instead of tourists). The thing is, Hector told me bikes are legally a vehicle (there are no biking lanes at all in Spain, or at least not here) and so are kind of treated like a car. If you’re not allowed to pass a car on that particular piece of road, you can’t pass them. When going uphill (or upmountain) this means you’re going very, very slow.
Another note on villages: the towers of the churches and whatever have an insane number of stork nests. They really seem to be more of a pest here than anything else.
Do you want to build a snowman?
As for the field work itself, we were lucky enough to never have any real rain yet. And that little rain did nothing to us when sitting down as we brought a sail to span between trees when needed [on the move, it was a little more annoying]. We had an extra person in the field one of those days, Elena who is doing her master thesis. She’s been to places as well. Uganda and Sweden (on Erasmus). It’s always nice to meet a fellow traveller.
There were a few instances where it was going to snow the next day. When it would snow a lot, we just wouldn’t work in the field. We had a few snowdays, but most of the snow fell at El Ventorillo itself or higher. El Ventorillo is at about 1500 meters. The source where we get out water is at 1700. In that ‘small’ distance, we crossed the snow border. It did snow a little on lower altitudes as well, but not at all at the field which is at 1200 meters or so and 20 minutes away [I don’t know if I mention it later on, but there was at least one day where it snowed a lot when we were in the field. Combined with a decent wind, we couldn’t see much. By then I luckily knew most of the locations already. And I don’t think we could’ve cut the work short as it was another phase of the breeding season, so we had to do what we had to do].
I love snow. Especially in the mountains and coniferous forests. When thick layers of snow pile up on the branches and leaves. It can become shitty to work in though. I didn’t mind as much, even without any gloves on, but then again I also wasn’t the one who needed to insert microchips under the skin of birds. Which is almost impossible to do if you can’t feel your fingers. The coldest day we had (but it didn’t have snow) was -7°C. So one day, when it actually started to snow in the field itself (it reminded me of cherry blossoms) we decided to call it quits early [hm, maybe I’m remembering it wrong then. I’m pretty sure we had to put up batteries in the small storm, so we might have stopped catching birds early, but still had to do the batteries. That data was more valuable, I guess]. It does little to nothing about our catch rate though. You can have a very succesful day when its pouring rain or a bad one when it’s bikini weather. As well as the other way around.
After the few days with snow, it was 20 degrees again. The weather can be weird. I’ve been told Spain usually skips spring and goes from winter straight to hell. The last day we had snow was on April 9… Yes, that’s not really normal. It wasn’t much and gone again pretty fast, but it was legit [haven’t seen anything like that in Belgium ever. But both Sweden and America did, so my country really does suck in that regard. Or not, if you somehow don’t like snow]. It did turn into rain in the field, which was less pleasant. It made the poles very slippery and the papers we had to fill in extremely wet.
I don’t mind the cold at all. I’m not one of those guys who will jump in freezing water, but I find the cold much more bearable than extreme warmth [if you’re cold, put on some more clothing. But there’s a limit to how much clothing you can take off]. So when the days come when it will be 30 during the whole day, I might die a little. I’m already getting a bit of a tan, but those will be full-on lobster days. I just hate the feeling of sunscreen on my skin and clothes. I detest it even. We’ll see how it goes. We’ll all get cancer one day anyway [all joking aside, this really is something I need to work on if I will spend more time outside during internships]. The house is a rather cold one though [thick walls, not a lot of windows]. Especially the kitchen at times (until you start cooking). Which, again, I don’t mind all that much, except the fact that my Nutella was too hard to smear.
Did you know that cows kill more people anually than sharks?
There are some dangers connected to the field work, but nothing major. The biggest issue are cut up hands from the metal lid of the boxes. My hands are full of scratches and scars from it. The hawthorn that grows everywhere cuts up your arms too.
Other than that, there will be ticks and some snakes and wild boar (just not yet). No real threat, unless you try to set them on fire or they’re just having a really bad day already [haven’t seen any snakes or wild boar. Can’t remember for ticks, but I definitely never had to forcibly remove one].
There are plenty of eagles and kites, but they are only a danger if you look, act and eat like, and so generally be, a bunny.
I did stab myself with a needle with starling blood though. So I have a flying blood brother out there somewhere. It probably also means there’s a starling with a thirst for human blood now. Since I was bleeding all over my fingers and had to hold a starling’s beak with those. There’s a few moments where I had no clue if blood on my hands was that of starlings, or that of my own [that might be a slight exaggeration].
There’s cows and horses in the field sometimes as well. Though the cows can be intimidating (especially if it’s a giant bull right next to the box you need to take down), there’s again no real danger. At one point, an especially mischievious horse (or well, mule more like) kicked a nestbox we had put down. Luckily, nothing was inside.
And I guess you can hit yourself in the face with a box you’re trying to pull down. I’ve lost control of a box twice (on the same day) and you don’t want to be under there when it comes down. I was rather upset about it. There was nothing inside it, but still. Once the eggs would start being laid, you really don’t want to drop a box. Luckily by the time that happened, I got much better at it. Even high boxes are no longer a problem for me [braggart. Pretty sure I didn’t drop a box anymore after that though. Maybe an egg or two only].
We do catch some other stuff in the trapped boxes as well. Starlings are very docile apart from some particular individuals. They’ll try to peck you, and their claws can hurt if they get the pinch just right, but they’re nothing compared to some other birds. When you would make a scale from One to Papa GHOW (although Papa would be an 11 on his own scale) a starling would rank maybe 2 or 3. Two other bird species we caught, a blue tit (twice) and a nuthatch, would go up till 5 or 6. They won’t fuck you up like a raptor would, but they are much more aggressive and can hurt as much as a bigger bird.
Hector broke one of the chairs as well, leaning back. I guess that could have gone worse. He didn’t have a very good day that day.
And birds do like to poop on your fresh clothes. That’ll only get worse when we start working with the hatchlings.
Once Upon a Time
So now for some little stories about things that happened in the field.
I haven’t told about the VIP birds yet (though the use of VIB, very important bird, is a missed opportunity). A few years back, they treated some eggs (or hatchlings, I’m not sure) with hormones. I don’t know any of the details, but they did it to see the effects of reproductional success and all that.
There’s also a special sort of… I guess I can call it a morph, where the starling will appear more greyish (some more noticeably so than others). Usually, they’re completely black, like a blackbird, but these ashen ones are lighter in appearance. For this reason, they call them “Cenicienta”, which means “Cinderella”.
Our record of caught birds on one day was 35. We didn’t have enough bags for all of them. We caught them in the northernest part of the field site, over a wall (yes, Game of Thrones jokes have been made). It’s my favourite area with mossy rocks, roaming cows and easy to find boxes (they’re placed in a straight line… sort of).
It does happen we catch a bird we already caught this season [so not necessarily the same day]. We don’t take any more feathers or blood from these, but usually redo the other measurements, especially on slow days. There was one particularly stupid bird we caught, released and subsequently, just an hour later, caught again.
Nuthatches like to use cow dung to make their nests. And they like to make their nests under the metal lid. So if you’re particularly unlucky, you can stick your fingers in fresh cow poop when trying to lift the lid.
It also happens we find a dead bird inside, usually a female. There’s heavy competition between the females for the nests. The males fight among themselves as well, but also for the nests. If I remember correctly, they do not fight for a female. Whichever two birds wind up together in a box, get busy with it.
One day, when returning from my round during Operation: “Omelette” (see later), I saw something black scurrying away. It was too fast for me to see what it was, and my companion didn’t see it at all.
Having nothing else to go on, I figured it must have been either the Black Rabbit of Inlé or a cat. The cat was seen again on a later occasion.
A last tale I have to tell is the “Terror of the Great Spotted Woodpecker”. There’s a malicious woodpecker flying around, destroying the entrances, antennas and false traps with his pecking. It also likes to hammer on the metal lid itself, making experimental music Sonic Youth would be proud of.
After the work is done, we sometimes go on a little excursion to see some other birds. The field itself has a huge variety already, going from tits to nuthatches to vultures to kites, booted eagle, storks, a bunch of warblers, … But there aren’t any water birds. So one time we went to a lake near Guadalix because Hector had heard a greater scaup (it’s a duck) was seen there. We didn’t see the duck, but we did see a purple heron.
At another time, when going to the lake near Manzanares itself, we some some other species of ducks, little and cattle egret, grebe, cormorants, … and a bunch of turtles. One day, when just passing the lake, there was a huge amount of (lesser black backed) gulls circling around. By all means, it looked like a hurricane of gulls. A gullicane if you want. But you don’t, since its a stupid name.
L’Auberge Espagnole
As for the situation in the house, I have moved rooms and am now staying with Hector in the same one. My new bed is one of those that can make you seasick, but it doesn’t cause me any trouble to sleep. The reason I had to move, is that new people have arrived. Sigrid was the first, about two weeks ago. A week later, Kathleen arrived. They’re both French and for now the only girls in the house. A few days ago, Costas arrived. He’s Greek. Then a few days after Costas, Ernesto arrived. He’s Mexican and has extreme jetlag. I’ve also shortly met Octavio, when I thought he was a burglar in the laboratory building. And Salvador, when he was putting some of his food in the pantry. Neither of them are here right now. They [not including the girls or Costas], and some others as well, will be here only occassionally. These last four are working on reptiles however, and won’t work with us.
Costas suggested we should go to Madrid. He made a whole list and plan of things to visit, one that looked very interesting indeed. We wanted to go by bus (which is cheap and rather fast). However, the bus never came. We have no idea why, but Operation: Madrid has thus failed for now. Sigrid was to meet her boyfriend though, so she took a probably very expensive taxi to go to Madrid anyway. I decided to play Half-Life 2: Episode One instead.
Other than that, nothing has really changed. I did manage to set spaghetti on fire once when cooking. The life hack claiming they’re good matchsticks is hereby confirmed.
Now, the situation in the field did change. The days when the first egg would be found, was drawing near. So we started a little bet on when it would be found. The bets went from the 11th to 19th April, my bet being the 17th. Then, on one of my free days, Hector came in my [our] room and said the first egg was found. The day was April 5. We were all dead wrong. That day was also Easter, meaning that, by all means, it was an Easter egg.
It meant the end of Operation: “Gotta catch ’em all” and that we were moving to Phase II:
Operation: “Omelette”
The method here was to check half of all of the boxes one day, and the other half on the next. We take down the boxes and see if any egg is inside. If not, we write down the state of the nest (and if there are fresh flowers or feathers inside) [meaning how well built-up or maintained the nest is, or if it’s completely empty of even a single stick]. If there is an egg, we write the date on it with a sharpie [don’t worry, it doesn’t harm the egg]. Then two days later, we check the same boxes again. Usually, there are two more eggs inside (one laid yesterday, one the day of revisit itself). They lay the egg somewhere in the early morning, so we go to the field in the afternoon.
Sometimes eggs have been thrown out by other females, so we write that down as well. Sometimes there’s an extra egg. This probably means there’s a “parasitic” one. Another female has gone in the nest and laid her egg there. Like a cuckoo, but intra- instead of interspecific. The shape or size is usually different. In addition to the colour, that can vary between white and shades of green and blue.
So we can technically predict at what day there should be 5 or 6 eggs (the usual clutch size). On that day, we measure all the eggs. The length and width, and the colour via spectrophotometry. After that, we’re done with that particular nest and don’t need to check it anymore.
Because of the synchrony in egg laying, it means there will be only a few nests to measure on the first day. The ones where we found the first few eggs. Like 10 of them maybe. Then the next day, there were 20 boxes to check. The next two days, there were 80 each. So those were the longs days. However, after that, the amount of checking that needed to be done, greatly declined. On the last few days, there were only 20 or 10 boxes to check in total. The problem can be that the boxes are all over the place. On complete opposites of the field site. A few nests remained empty throughout the season.
After all the eggs had been measured, we need to wait till the eggs hatch. So this is the incubation period. However, there is still a little work to be done. At night. This is Phase III:
Operation: “Nighthawk”
We want to know what female is in which box (so presumably the mother of almost all the eggs laid in that nest). So we mount a more powerful reader to one of the poles. With this, we scan the box while it is still up.
Sometimes, it doesn’t give a reading. This either means no one is home or the female inside doesn’t have a chip implanted. Or there was a nuthatch inside (which happened twice with Raquel and me). Luckily, the boxes are still relatively visible since there is no full canopy of leaves yet, and the grey side thing for the reader and battery stands out in between all the green and black. Just the boxes themselves would be hell to spot.
Now, we go in the field at 9 at night. Just before it gets dark. It means it’s a totally different area. You don’t have the sun or mountains to orient yourself with. There were some street lights visible, and the lights from the nearby prison, and some strange red glow I can’t explain. So it was something, but still much easier to get lost with. Raquel and me did 88 boxes that night, finishing a little after midnight (doing two areas less than intended). This was because the other group, of Diego, Sigrid and Kathleen, had to stop after 20 boxes because they had a flat battery.
It’s a special experience. The sleeping flowers, the silvery shine of wet grass (it was raining a little bit). The continuous radar-like sound of the scops owl. The horribly loud crickets and some frogs. I could describe it more, but it’s something that, in the end, you have to experience to really understand. Try describing a good pizza. You can, to some extent. But you’ll never know how REALLY good it is, until you take a bite.
We have to go again this evening to do the rest of the boxes (hopefully, since the battery can give up again). There’s no rush for this however, since we don’t disturb the birds and the same female should be incubating on the same nest every night. So in a few days, Phase IV will start. I haven’t come up with a suitable Operation name yet.
That’s all for now, folks.
[Seems like this was a decent post. Didn’t have to add or change must. Maybe because I kept it rather short and so didn’t hit that wall of urghIwannafinishthis. Something to keep in my mind for any next entries, I guess. Anyway, next week will be the last entry for a few months again as previously mentioned. With more pictures. As promised. UPDATE: for the final entry, go here]
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Somewhat Fascinating 