Water in an Arid Land

  By Birds, Musings, Parks, Wildlife

Having grown up in a temperate rainforest on British Columbia’s coast, I probably take fresh water too much for granted. Here, after all, it pours from the skies half the time (literally, 192 days out of each 365). It rolls, surges, and trickles throughout the landscape as awe-inspiring rivers and tiny streams. It melts off the mountain snowpacks and rests in hundreds of lakes, ponds, and bogs ranging in colour from glacial turquoise to tannic brown. All my life, I’ve enjoyed a superabundance of water, drinking it, bathing, washing, and swimming in it, even using it to flush away my waste products. Such thoughtless luxury.

For the animals and birds that live in arid lands around the world, there can be no such extravagance. Their lives hinge on a continuous search for the scarce commodity and wherever they can find water, that’s where they’ll be. Harsh as it may be, that need can create rare opportunities for humans to get close views of otherwise shy wild creatures.

Namibia is the driest country in sub-Saharan Africa. Most of it is a blast furnace desert that will suck the moisture right out of your skin. Its towering red sand dunes are some of the tallest in the world. Yet, in this bleak landscape we saw giraffe, zebra, oryx, rhinoceros, elephant, lion, springbok, impala, leopard, and many other mammals, the greatest congregations always near water sources. Fortunately for the wildlife and for wildlife lovers like us, Namibian parks establish and maintain waterholes and water tanks to support the animals. And, of course, to allow us to gawk at and photograph those beautiful creatures.

A day “on safari” in Namibia’s legendary Etosha Park will likely consist of driving from one waterhole to the next, never knowing what you’ll find when you get there. You can park beside a waterhole (if you can endure the heat) and simply wait to see what shows up. It might be a vast mixed herd of grazers or a solitary jackal.

In the evening, sit in the relative comfort and safety of a blind overlooking a waterhole and watch the nocturnal animals appear out of the gloom, their lamplight eyes flashing when they lift their gaze in your direction. Shoulder to shoulder, a pride of lions crouches along the shore to lap. Two hyenas hang back, yipping nervously, afraid to approach until the cats move on. A large owl drops soundlessly to dab her toes in the rocky shallows and drink, fluff, and preen.

From our window at a Namibian lodge, we were delighted to see families of peach-faced lovebirds and yellowed-shouldered Ruppell’s parrots gather at a dripping pipe a few metres away.

The clever birds had obviously figured out that here was a reliable source of fresh water. They shuffled along the pipe, chattering amiably with each other as they waited their turn to stand under the drip, stretching their beaks wide to receive the sacrament.

Other drylands in other countries created similar bird-watching magic. The merest splash of a puddle across a road in southern Arizona’s Sonoran Desert provided bathing facilities and a welcome drink for a large flock of mountain bluebirds. From the concealment of our car, we were able to photograph the bustle and swirl of the celestial-winged creatures that made it seem like pieces of the blue sky had fallen to the earth before us. A campground sprinkling system installed to keep a small patch of grass alive in the parched environment of Australia’s Northern Territory brought in a rainbow parade of red-collared lorikeets to play in the cool spray.

As tourists, we can make it profitable for locals to maintain water sources for wildlife, whether it’s a constructed watering hole in a game reserve, a bird bath at a bed and breakfast, or a tiny trickle of a stream left undisturbed.

We can also help the animals that we come to see by acting respectfully around them, giving them their space, remaining quiet and still in our cars or blinds, so that they can drink in peace and return, refreshed and unruffled, to their daily routines.

Have you observed animals or birds making the most of water sources available to them? Tell us about it in a comment.

Calidris Reads: Attenborough

  By Birds, Calidris Reads, Reviews, Wildlife

Reading and traveling are two of my favourite things, so it’s a joy to combine the two. Aside from being a voracious reader of travel guides, I also love to read books written by authors from places that I visit, or set in foreign countries. In Calidris Reads, I will briefly introduce you to these books and provide my personal rating from 1 to 5 knots (Terrible to Must-read).

Adventures of a Young Naturalist:
The Zoo Quest Expeditions

David Attenborough

Read for: Rediscovering the joy of adventurous travel

Opening: “These days zoos don’t send out animal collectors on quests to bring ‘em back alive. And quite right too. The natural world is under more than enough pressure as it is, without being robbed of its most beautiful, charismatic and rarest inhabitants.”

I admit with some embarrassment that I came late to the shrine of Sir David Attenborough.

Growing up, I had no exposure to British TV—it simply wasn’t available in our area. My childhood heroes were Jacques Cousteau, Joy Adamson, Thor Heyerdahl, and, of course, that paragon of nature documentarians, Walt Disney. I only really became aware of Sir D when his Blue Planet and Planet Earth series exploded onto our television in the early 2000s.

Today, when he is something of a cult figure, revered and followed by millions of fans around the world, it’s fun to go back and revisit (or, in my case, visit) his past. How did he get into TV nature documentaries in the first place? What was it like to make those groundbreaking BBC shows in the 1950s and 60s?

The world was literally a different place back then. International air travel was relatively new and many places were simply unreachable by plane. Many exotic species were never seen outside their native lands, some were impossible to capture and others could not be kept alive once caught. Zoos still sent out collectors to trap and bring back specimens to be put on display.

Into this uncharted frontier came young Attenborough, eager to make his mark as a TV producer of animal films shot, at least partly, on location and in the wild. Combining this goal with the London Zoo’s bottomless thirst to acquire new animals was his stroke of genius. Through circumstance, he moved from behind the camera to in front, hosting a series of programs from 1954 to 1963 under the title Zoo Quest and subsequently publishing accompanying books based on his field notes from each expedition. The 2017 volume, Adventures of a Young Naturalist, is a compilation of selected writing from the first three Zoo Quest books, covering trips to Guyana, Indonesia, and Paraguay.

The title is a bit disingenuous. If one didn’t know the kind of world-striding, internationally famed figure that Sir David represents, one might fancy the book to be a gentle reminiscence of some 12-year-old’s happy ramblings in the fields behind the family domicile, butterfly net in one hand and frog-catching jar in the other. While Attenborough may well have been that kind of child, this book’s tales range from trapping Komodo dragons to feeding a parrot chick by mouth (Sir David’s mouth, that is). Along the way, he also deals with a variety of non-wildlife challenges–politely obstructive officials, a gun-smuggling boat captain, “helpful” locals, reluctant or unreliable transport, tropical sickness, etc.—all with that uniquely English combination of pluck, cheer, and self-effacement. There’s a bit of danger (probably more than he admits to), a bit of drama, and lots of humour.

As I was reading it, a strong sense of nostalgia hit me and I realized that I was channeling some of my favourite childhood adventure stories such as Kon-Tiki and Born Free, not to mention countless National Geographic articles. I suppose one of the reasons I’ve joined the ranks of Sir David’s admirers is that at the age of 95, he still manages to convey the same wide-eyed wonder at the astounding world we live in that he shows as the cub TV presenter writing Adventures of a Young Naturalist.

Four knots: Recommended to those who enjoy looking back at the good old days of seat-of-the-pants film-making. Not recommended to those who would find white guys trading beads to natives in exchange for animals unforgivably offensive.

Are you a fan of Sir David? Why do you think he appeals to so many people? Let me know in a comment.

Creepy Crawlies 3: Fiends From Hell

  By Birds, The Unexpected, Wildlife

“The ants go marching one by one….”

Actually, they don’t. At least not when you’re talking about army ants, or driver ants, as they’re sometimes called. What they do is form marching “columns” that vary from a few ants in width to a wave pouring over everything in their path.

Until fairly recently, everything I knew about army ants came from two childhood sources: a 1938 short story titled “Leiningen Versus the Ants” by Carl Stephenson, and a children’s book, Alonzo and the Army of Ants, written by Murray Goodwin in 1966. In both books, the ants are portrayed as a horrifying, unstoppable force of nature:

“They’re not creatures you can fight—they’re an elemental—an ‘act of God!’ Ten miles long, two miles wide—ants, nothing but ants! And every single one of them a fiend from hell; before you can spit three times they’ll eat a full-grown buffalo to the bones. I tell you if you don’t clear out at once, there’ll be nothing left of you but a skeleton picked as clean as your own plantation.” [“Leiningen Versus the Ants”]

What better to titillate the fertile imagination of a child? Naturally, I was fascinated and frightened in equal measure.

When I began travelling to the tropics as an adult, I somehow believed my chances of seeing these fearsome creatures were about the same as running into a tiger. I mean, if they were that dangerous, surely someone would have got them under control or something. Or there would be fences. Or warnings. In Africa, you see signs about how to act around elephants and hippos. In Australia, there are crocodile warnings. Nowhere do you see signs warnings about army ants.

However, somewhere in my readings about birds, I learned that there are certain species of birds that follow ant armies for a very particular reason.

“During their hunt, many surface-raiding army ants are accompanied by various birds…which devour the insects that are flushed out by the ants, a behavior known as kleptoparasitism.[1]”

Sneaky buggers, eh? But they get their just deserts, because they in turn become dessert for bigger birds—raptors—who also follow the swarms and prey on them.[2]

What this all boils down to is a bird photographer’s dream: a bunch of birds that are too absorbed in lunch to pay much mind to large lenses being poked at them:

“While focused on feeding on these invertebrates, birds at army-ant swarms typically allow very close approach by people—within 1 or 2 meters in many cases—often providing the best opportunities to see [and photograph] many of these species.”

In my case, I did things backwards (as is so often the case), stopping by the roadside in Costa Rica to photograph a roadside hawk (yes, that’s its actual name). After shooting from the car window, I thought I’d try getting out and moving a bit closer, as the hawk seemed absorbed in watching something and disinclined to move. I opened the car door silently and ever-so-slowly reached my foot toward the ground, always keeping my eyes on the bird. Until something moving below me caught my attention. I glanced down and realized we had stopped the car in the middle of an army ant swarm.

Roadside hawk accompanying army ant swarm.

Not knowing how many beloved ant citizens we had crushed with our metallic behemoth or what gruesome revenge their comrades would wreak upon us—Were they even at that moment scaling the walls of the engine compartment, breaching the flimsy barriers that stood between the ravening horde and our shrinking flesh, soon to pour forth with gigantic clacking mandibles from vents and other car orifices?—we elected to retreat to a safe distance.

That was a small swarm, just a few square metres in size. And we didn’t really see the kleptoparasites in action that day. Perhaps the presence of the hawk kept the smaller birds in hiding. Our next army ant encounter, however, provided a spectacular example.

We were staying at a small jungle lodge in the Yucatan. There were few guests, just a couple of the cabanas were occupied and the staff were usually nowhere to be found. As we returned to our hut after a walk, we spotted a column of ants moving along the main driveway. This group was about a metre in width and extended back into the jungle farther than we could see. Intrigued, we followed the ants as they marched forward.

They moved along steadily, searching everything in their path methodically and efficiently to find food. They swarmed up each twig of every bush and plant to flush out whatever was there. We could see spiders, grasshoppers, beetles, and other insects frantically leaping or running to escape. Some made it, others were tackled by the ants and quickly disappeared under the onslaught. You could actually hear the rustling of the vegetation as the ants moved through. It was mesmerizing and extremely creepy at the same time.

We began to see the small birds that accompanied the column. They hung in the bushes just off the ground, keeping close watch on the progress of the army. The insects that managed to elude the ants were often snapped up by the birds instead.

I was able to approach as close as I dared to take photos. The antbirds ignored me and the ants seemed to have little interest in us.

Soon the column entered the courtyard in front of the reception office, an open building in the tropical style. There was no one inside. As the ants fanned out to search the clearing, we realized they were also going inside the building. I wondered if this was unusual and if we should tell someone, but we hadn’t seen any staff members for quite some time.

Our main concern was to avoid being encircled ourselves. We figured we could easily outrun the army as long as we had at least one clear path, but didn’t fancy putting our feet down in the midst of those soldiers. We watched and waited as long as possible, with the ants around us on three sides getting ever closer, then we took our leave.

Later, we talked to the manager and he shrugged the whole thing off. The ant armies came through the property regularly. They didn’t bother people. As for them storming the reception building, he said, that happened a lot and was of no concern. In fact, he welcomed the conquering army, because the ants swept in, searched the building thoroughly and hunted down any resident bugs, and then quickly left without disturbing anything else. Sure enough, when we returned to the clearing, there was no trace of the column and no ants in the building.

The fearsome army ant: just a cleaning brigade on the move. If Leiningen only knew.

[1] An excellent Scrabble word.

[2] Apparently, there is no existing term to describe raptors that feast on army ant kleptoparasites, so this is your opportunity to coin a word. Uberkleptoparasites?

Tours and Museums via Livestream

  By Cities, Culture, Free Fun

Frustrated at not being able to travel? I certainly am.

Fortunately, many organizations around the world have created free online content to help keep us entertained and make sure our brains don’t stagnate.

Two that I’d like to share this week are the Washington DC History & Culture Meetup group and the Louvre Museum.

Pre-COVID, the Washington DC group organized popular themed tours in that area. Now, they are creating and putting online 60-90 minute livestreams on a huge variety of topics.

Today, I participated in a tour of the National Museum of African American History and Culture, part of the Smithsonian.  Some of the others I’ve watched include:

  • Harriet Tubman Tour
  • Van Gogh
  • Diana Ross
  • Medieval London Walking Tour (led by a professional tour guide from London)
  • Shakespeare’s London (ditto)
  • Courtship and Marriage in 18th Century Virginia

I’d also like to catch the Barcelona History Tour and maybe some of the other art talks—Monet, Renoir, Georgia O’Keeffe.

It’s not quite the same as visiting a city or museum in person, but the topics are interesting and the guides are keen on their subjects. At least it gets me out of the house in my imagination.

I think you must sign up for the group (free) in order to get notifications of upcoming shows (https://www.meetup.com/DCHistoryAndCulture/). That’s what I did. Some of the shows are recorded and added to their Youtube channel (https://www.youtube.com/c/WashingtonDCHistoryCulture/videos), so you can access them any time, while others seem to be one-off. Since the number of people who can watch the livestreams is limited, it’s worth it to get notifications so you can jump on things that interest you. I’ve been shut out of a couple of things because I waited too long to get on the list.

A few days ago, I received notice that the Louvre has put nearly half a million items from its collection online for the public to visit free of charge (https://collections.louvre.fr/en/). You can browse the whole collection (a rather daunting prospect) or choose from “themed albums” (https://collections.louvre.fr/en/albums) such as:

  • Masterpieces of the Louvre
  • 2020 Acquisitions
  • The Art of Portraiture
  • Kings, Queens, and Emperors

Assemble an afternoon repast of baguette, French cheese, petits fours, and café au lait and settle down for a visit with some of the world’s most important artworks.

Look on the bright side: your feet won’t be aching when you finish up and you’ll probably get a better view of many of those artifacts then you would peering through dozens of other gawking tourists.

What are your favourite online programs/sites for culture, arts, or history?

Creepy Crawlies 2: The Lovely

  By Musings, Photo Essays, Wildlife

In my last post about multi-legged critters, I covered some of the scarier bugs I’ve encountered on my travels. This time around, I almost hesitate to use the term “creepy crawlies” because, to me, most butterflies, moths, and caterpillars are beautiful and not at all frightening. However, I realize that’s not the case for everyone.

A couple of years ago, I posted a photo of myself with a large cecropia moth clinging to my fingers. I was so thrilled to see this amazing insect up close, but someone commented “I’m terrified and you’re showing it off!!!” I don’t think she would have been too happy about another moth-related incident that happened during that trip.

We were staying in a nature retreat on a jungle-covered mountainside in Ecuador. On our first evening, we returned to our cabin after dark (the sun sets early that close to the equator). The kind manager had stopped by our cabin and helpfully switched on the light over our door so that we could find our cabin easily. Unfortunately, the light had attracted a cloud of moths and the door was covered with them. We had the good sense not to open the door immediately (it opened inward) or they would have all been inside the room. We turned the light off and tried to shoo away as many as possible, but we still had a dozen or so that flew in. Mark caught some and put them outside, but he couldn’t get them all. I spent that night dreaming of moths and woke up many times when a pair of fuzzy wings blundered into my face. (Apologies to the moth-phobic; they have probably run screaming out of the room by now.)

Moths, I suppose, are associated with nighttime, darkness, and mystery, whereas butterflies are more often classed with sunshine, flowers, light, and beauty. I’ve seen a field full of butterflies with transparent wings, such that you could see right through to the body and opposing wings.

I’ve chased the stunning blue morphos across fields and forests in Central and South America, trying to capture its beauty in a photograph. This large butterfly, although not rare and certainly conspicuous, is maddening due to its habit of floating around but never alighting for more than a nanosecond. I would follow it forever, waiting for it to rest with those iridescent lapis lazuli wings outstretched. It would land; I would tiptoe up, focus, and—gone. I finally snapped one in Mexico, but, of course, my mediocre photo doesn’t come close to the reality.

Blue morphos butterfly

Yes, sunshine, flowers, light. Oh, and did I mention mud? It’s a curious fact that these glowing creatures that flit along on the breeze are often found on patches of mud. I would guess that they are seeking moisture? Or maybe just cooling down? But Google turns up this interesting tidbit: “Like other animals, butterflies need salt and minerals in their diets. By sucking up puddle water, butterflies are able to accumulate salt and minerals in their hind gut while passing the water out their anus. This process is called ‘puddling’.” Who knew?

I’ve observed this behaviour in many locations, but most strikingly along the Napo River in Ecuador, where I spotted a gathering of butterflies whose wings were outlined in white, making them appear as if they were cut out of paper.

Before any of these critters were lovelies, they all started out as caterpillars, some of quite bizarre appearance. One can easily understand the concept of camouflage, trying to blend in with surroundings in order to avoid being eaten. But the marching line of neon-green-saddled caterpillars that I spotted on a forest path in Panama seemed to be doing anything but avoiding notice. The dark spot surrounded in white in the centre of the “saddle” pretty well shouted “target,” while the spiky protuberances covering the rest of the body warned “hands off!” Luckily, we took its advice and didn’t touch, as I found out later these oddballs are quite venomous, delivering a sting similar to a bee’s.

Outside a lodge on the eastern slopes of the Ecuadorian Andes, I walked past a ball of white fluff on the path, assuming it was a seed pod from a tree. Then I did a double-take, realizing I hadn’t seen any other similar puffy balls anywhere else in the vicinity (trees, when they drop seeds or leaves or whatever, tend to do it in multiples, not singles). At closer look, I discovered a fuzzy white caterpillar with long black “twigs” sprouting from its back. Was it attempting to disguise itself as something inedible, a fungus perhaps? Impossible to know.

Fantastical or fancy, moths, butterflies, and caterpillars are always fascinating and I look forward to photographing more on future travels.

Do butterflies, moths, and caterpillars inspire Ooooo! or Ewwww! from you? Let me know in a comment.

The surprising underside of a blue morphos

My Love Affair with Travel Guidebooks

  By Calidris Reads, Inspiration, Musings, Research & Planning
The sad remains of my trimmed-down collection.

I recently culled my library of travel guides.

I set myself the goal of halving the shelf-full of books I’d accumulated. It was hard going. Some were guides to places I have been and so represented good memories. Some were for destinations I still hope to visit and so protected cherished travel dreams. Others sat on the shelf to remind me of places on my B list.

I must confess that a few were published in the previous millennium. <Blushing.> Yet I still clung to them and hated the thought of tossing any. What is more useless than an out-of-date travel guide? I told myself firmly. But (whispered another voice) who could let go of Insider’s London, a guide to delightfully quirky hidden spots and sights—even if it is over 20 years old? 

In the end, I achieved my goal. I started by arranging the books in date published order, then started cutting from the “written before cell phones were invented” end. Sometimes—as with Insider’s London—I took down the book with full intentions of heaving it into the bin, but after looking at it, I put it back. I had two old guidebooks purchased for a Galapagos Islands trip that never happened. I hesitated, then let go of the one with more time-sensitive info and kept the other.

As I said, difficult choices because, despite the huge amount of travel information available online, I still love my travel guides.

I enjoy the feel of a book in my hands and I like to get away from my computer when I can. I respect and understand the order that information is presented in a book. I like the fact that books are text-heavy, whereas websites tend to be image-heavy. I don’t mind that hard-copy content is not perfectly up to date—the things that interest me usually don’t change much over time and I can always use the Web to get recent info when I need it—things like opening times or ticket prices.

As soon as I start to consider a destination, I open the library website and order in two or three guidebooks for that place. Once I have them in my hands, I browse through them to get a general sense of whether the destination is going to make the A list. I read the “must-see” lists. Are these things that interest me? I look for special sections that might discuss niche topics like birding or lesser-known museums or regional foods. I stare at the maps of suggested scenic or themed driving routes. I might browse through the local customs sections

As I scan the guidebook(s), I insert Post-Its next to items that catch my interest. Eventually, I’ll transfer the info and any relevant URLs to my file of notes for that trip.

When possible, I try to check out a guidebook to take with me on the road. It seems somehow fitting that a travel guide should get the opportunity to visit the country it describes in such detail.

As a side note to using the local library resources, it’s always intriguing when I realize that someone else in my neighbourhood has taken out all the guidebooks for an area. I like the idea that this anonymous stranger—perhaps the fellow behind me in the grocery store line-up—is also dreaming about visiting my chosen destination. I wish I could sit down for tea with him/her and trade information: So what made you choose Argentina? When are you going? Where will you stay? Which tours are you thinking of taking? Maybe we’d even arrange to meet up and trade stories after our respective journeys.

Perhaps I should leave a note hidden in a library travel guide, prompting the next reader to get in touch. Hmmm…I think I see a future movie starting Jude Law and Helena Bonham Carter….

PS: FYI, all those guides on my shelf with library call numbers are not purloined copies. They are ex-library copies that I bought for 50 cents.

Am I the only crazy person with a collection of travel guides? Let me know in a comment.

Calidris Compares: Feb 2020 vs Feb 2021

  By Air Travel, Calidris Compares, Musings

Let’s see now…what was I doing one year ago in February 2020? Ah, yes, I remember…I was housesitting a stranger’s home in France and wandering around the Loire Valley for fun. Hahahahaha….

How long ago and far away that seems now. Just visiting a stranger’s home is unthinkable and forget about travelling to France, eating in tiny, crowded bistros, or rubbing shoulders with thousands of people from all over the world in the Louvre or d’Orsay museums. The world has changed and as always, Calidris does not shrink from candid comparisons.

Feb 2020Feb 2021
Canada-US border Leave the pot in Canada and the guns in America and you’re good to go Closed for nonessential travel
Coughing in publicYou are offered a lozengeYou are run out of town
MasksMardi Gras, Carnival, or bank robberyMust-have fashion accessory
Airplane travelAnywhere, any time, as long as you have the bucksJust no, unless you are a politician to whom the rules don’t apply (according to yourself)
Flight phobiaFiery crashHaving an anti-masker on board
Public restroomsGratitude that they existTerror that you’ll need to use one
SanitizerTiny packeted wipe in your purse4-litre jug that you wear like a camel pack
Friendly hand shakeGood manners in many countries around the worldThe Touch of Doom
Travel wishBeing bumped to first classA vaccine
Touching your faceItchySuicide
BirthdayParty with everyone you knowOnline meet-up over takeout
Flight recoveryA good sleep-inTwo weeks of quarantine
Passenger in next seatCurler from Moose Jaw heading to a bonspielMillionaire sitting in economy as part of his ruse to get vaccine in a small, remote town
Things to smuggle homeBooze, bits of endangered animalsToilet paper
#1 travel destinationFranceThe living room
ZoomSound the jet makes as you take off for HawaiiYour primary source of communication, education, entertainment, and business
Bonnie HenryDr Who?Goddess of the Known Universe and Ruler of Our Fate
Jigsaw puzzlesAre you kidding?More valuable than gold bricks

What do you see is different this February? Let me know in a comment.

Creepy Crawlies 1: The Enemy

  By Wildlife
Purple tree tarantula

We were having dinner on the outdoor patio of a monastery in Trinidad when a gigantic beetle came hurtling out of the darkness and crash-landed in the middle of the food and cutlery on our table. As it lay groggily on its back, waving its legs at us, Mark reached out and deftly allowed it to hook onto his arm, flipping it upright so we could admire it before he escorted it to the edge of the patio and sent it back to its family and friends.

Encounters with many-legged creatures are not unusual when you travel in the tropics and not all of those critters are as harmless as a beetle. There are, of course, mosquitos, flies, roaches, and other pesky things that are nothing more than The Enemy: the huge, inch-long Amazon equivalent of a horsefly that managed to bite Mark through his clothing, drawing blood and leaving a visible gash in his shoulder, or the tiny flies that swarmed our faces atop a 30-metre high viewing platform in the jungle. They crawled into our eyes, noses, mouths, ears. They roamed across the lens of my camera every time I tried to take a photo. “Sweat beasts,” the guide informed us grimly.

The Yemenese cockroaches that shared my family’s first house in that country were of epic size and prodigiously robust. I remember them as being at least 2 inches long in body with antennae extending 6 or 7 inches beyond that. To kill one, you first had to slow it down by showering it with highly toxic insecticide administered with a pumped spray gun. When it was literally swimming in a pool of deadly chemicals, you could then commence beating on it with any sturdy object to hand, e.g., hammer or crowbar. Often, it would still attempt to walk away. Cockroaches will inherit the Earth.

Spiny orb-weaver spider

I have an ambivalent relationship with spiders. They frighten me in a primal way (and I probably frighten them in an equally primal way), yet they are fascinating and can be beautiful. Outdoors, and safely poised in a web, they seem less threatening, and I can cautiously admire. But when found indoors, and most particularly ANYWHERE NEAR MY BED, the thin veil of scientific detachment is torn asunder and I run screaming in the opposite direction.

Tarantulas have crossed my path twice. On the British Virgin Island of Tortola, Mark and I were walking back to our hotel at night, strolling a few metres behind a young couple. Suddenly, the woman ahead gave a little shriek and jumped, and then quickly moved on. When we reached the same spot, we saw a big tarantula just beside the sidewalk, moving very slowly. I looked down at my sandaled toes and imagined accidentally stepping on the spider in the dark. Many years later, when we stayed at Sacha Lodge in the Amazon, there was a good-sized tarantula hanging out in a tree right next to the boardwalk between the dining hut and our room. The spider had no interest in us gawking at it with flashlight in hand. It merely crouched in the shelter of the tree’s loose bark, waiting….

The Caribbean islands have giant black millipedes that are harmless but quite startling when they erupt out of the leaf litter right next to where you’re snoozing on the sand.

In Costa Rica, we encountered a praying mantis with its eerie alien face. I’m sure it was just minding its own mantis business, but I had the urge to snarl: “Get away from her, you bitch!”*

Finally, there are ticks, which love to fall on you as you stroll down an overgrown jungle path, crawl under your clothes, and commence to suck your blood. Nice, eh? The icing on the cake is that they also carry lots of nasty diseases which they are more than happy to share with you. So when I found a tick on my arm in Mexico, we panicked and did exactly what you are not supposed to do, grabbing it with tweezers and ripping it out. We then raced to the grocery store and tried to find rubbing alcohol to sterilize the wound. (Probably we should have thought of that before we tore the creature in half.) Unfortunately, when we asked the pharmacist for alcohol (in very broken Spanish), he helpfully directed us to the extensive selection of liquor, wine, and beer. Clearly, we were tourists and tourists always want to buy liquor, right? We could not get across the idea of alcohol as anything other than booze. I would have resorted to buying vodka and pouring it over my arm, but in the end we did find rubbing alcohol by wandering around until we spotted it on the shelf.

But don’t get ticked off by this description of the scary creepy-crawlies. There are also the lovely and the intriguing, which I’ll cover in future posts.

*Aliens, 1986

Disgusting on all counts

  By Air Travel, Musings

The news broke yesterday that Air Canada is partnering with “social media influencers” to promote travelling now, despite the current federal advisory against non-essential travel outside the country.

This riles me.

First, because the whole idea of “social media influencers” makes me slightly sick to my stomach. There are some lovely definitions for the term on the Urban Dictionary, including this barb: “Someone with lack of intelligence and a lot of free time, followed by tons of idiots on some social network, usually Instagram….[T]heir opinion is worth something only to primates with an IQ lower than the room temperature.”

Do we really need camera-pretty people to tell us what to do, say, wear, eat, etc.? Keep in mind that these people generally have no particular expertise or knowledge. They may be glib and cute, but their main claim to fame is that they chose to make fame their aim. [Am I rapping?]

Why should you or I care if @chelseaBotox-lips is “Having a great time in Cancun!”?

Sadly, some people do care. Which brings me to my second gripe.

Parading tanned and blissful “influencers” in exotic locales before responsible Canadians* who are doing their best to get through this winter at home, masked, and socially distanced, many struggling with financial woes, fears for their elders or their children, or anxiety about vaccines, is at best cruel, and at worst, evil. You can probably think of better words to describe those who deliberately make others crave something they can’t—in good conscience—have.

Come on, Air Canada. You can do better than this. Use all that money and brainpower to find ways to help us through this instead of trying to “influence” us into disobeying health directives that are designed to protect us and everyone around us.

The Canadian government advisory states that those who choose to travel now “may have difficulty returning to Canada or may have to remain abroad for an indeterminate period….The governments of those destinations that have opened their borders to tourists could impose strict travel restrictions suddenly….International transportation options could be reduced significantly, making it difficult…to return to Canada.” It ends with this warning: “If you choose to travel despite these advisories:

  • you may have difficulty obtaining essential products and services
  • you may have limited access to timely and appropriate health care
  • you may suddenly face strict movement restrictions and quarantines at designated facilities and at your own cost
  • your insurance may not cover your travel or medical expenses
  • we may have limited capacity to offer you consular services.”

*Clearly, this does not include politicians who feel official government guidelines don’t apply to them.

Calidris Reads: England, 1665

  By Calidris Reads, Musings, Reviews

Reading and traveling are two of my favourite things, so it’s a joy to combine the two. Aside from being a voracious reader of travel guides, I also love to read novels written by authors from places that I visit, or set in those countries. In Calidris Reads, I will briefly introduce you to these books and provide my personal rating from 1 to 5 knots (Terrible to Must-read).

Year of Wonders:
A novel of the plague

Geraldine Brooks

Read for: Imaginary journey to England & pandemic pastime

Opening: “I used to love this season. The wood stacked by the door, the tang of its sap still speaking of forest. The hay made, all golden in the low afternoon light.”

Although it is set in England, 1665-1666, Year of Wonders is a story for here and now. I first read it a number of years ago and liked it enough to stash it on my “might be read again” shelf. The characters are interesting and drawn well, the writing is just my style, with spare but evocative descriptions, and the premise, intriguing.

The plot is a fictionalized retelling of the true story of Eyam, a small countryside village like many others in the seventeenth century. The people live simple, sometimes harsh lives, but thrive through faith and community. When the Black Death arrives via a delivery of cloth from plague-stricken London, village life is shattered as every home is visited by horrific illness and agonizing death. The town’s religious leader urges the villagers to take the burden of the plague upon themselves and voluntarily quarantine so that the disease should not be carried beyond Eyam’s borders.

How the various characters respond to this challenge creates the drama and poses questions for the reader: What would you do if faced by this situation? Do people act better or worse when lives are at stake? Do you have a higher duty to your family or to society? Should one sacrifice personal freedom for the good of others?

One reviewer of the book wrote: “[Year of Wonders]…leaves us with the memory of vivid characters struggling in timeless human ways with the hardships confronting them….”

Does this strike any familiar chords? Anti-maskers, anti-vaxxers, deniers, exploiters, haters, haranguers, heroes, and helpers. The great of heart and the small of brain.

Welcome to 2020.

While culling my library in October, I came across Year of Wonders and realized immediately that if there was a time to reread the book, it had to be now.

In an 2001 article published after the September 11 attacks, author Geraldine Brooks wrote: “Whether we also shall one day look back upon this year of flames, germs, and war as a ‘year of wonders’ will depend, perhaps, on how many are able…to match the courageous self-sacrifice of the people of Eyam.” She could have just as well have written that today.

Speaking in a subsequent interview, she said: “Eyam is a story of ordinary people willing to make an extraordinary sacrifice on behalf of others. Love, hate, fear. The desire to live and to see your children live. Are these things different on a beautiful autumn morning in a twenty-first-century city than they were in an isolated seventeenth-century village? I don’t think so. One thing I believe completely is that the human heart remains the human heart, no matter how our material circumstances change as we move together through time.”

People magazine’s review of the book included this comment: “[Year of Wonders]…subtly reveals how ignorance, hatred, and mistrust can be as deadly as any virus.”

Wow. The wilful stupidity and bigotry of some segments of the population during the current pandemic plus the deliberate deception practiced by some of our leaders certainly proves that point.

Published almost two decades ago, Year of Wonders is still worth seeking out. O, The Oprah Magazine called it “a vividly imagined and strangely consoling tale of hope in a time of despair.”

Isn’t that what we all could use right now—a tale of hope in a time of despair?

Five knots: A must-read