Water in an Arid Land

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.

Joust for Fun

Arizona Renaissance Festival 2019 Photo by Marian Buechert.

Years ago, I stumbled across something online called the Renaissance Festival Podcast. This was in the very early days of podcasts and I had never heard of them. How cool to have a whole bunch of music in a genre you liked instantly accessible! While I was already very keen on folk music of all types, the podcasts were my introduction to “Ren Faire” music, which is a mix of serious, beautifully performed ballads and tunes along with a lot of rollicking, frequently bawdy, sometimes downright dirty songs.

The podcasts were also my first window into the quirky world of Renaissance festivals. I was astonished to discover that there are over fifty regular Ren events across North America and more in Europe and Australia. Ye innocents, take heed: this is happening all around you—your neighbours and co-workers are dressing up in corsets and codpieces and congregating in places where they can kowtow to a monarch, drink mead, and shout “huzzah!” for knights and clowns alike. My kind of people.

Hence, I was excited when I found that the Arizona Renaissance Festival would be happening while we were down south, and not too far from Phoenix, one of our stopovers.

The Arizona festival has 32 years under its belt and it shows: this is no fly-by-night, two-days-per-year event. They run every weekend in February and March and they have a permanent site, complete with buildings, streets, 14 stages, and, most impressively, a jousting stadium. It’s extremely well organized, from food to entertainment, and things seem to run like clockwork. If you bring even a modicum of willingness, you will be jollied, cajoled, and nudged into having a good time, as the cast rouses up the audience at every performance to “ooooo!” when something dangerous is attempted, “ahhhhhhh!” when it succeeds, and applaud at every possible opportunity. Spectators at the jousts are expected to take sides and cheer “their” knights while booing the opposing team.

You may see a gaggle of Harry Potter characters sporting robes and wands and Star Wars stormtroopers in white armour, all rubbing shoulders with the Queen of England in full Elizabethan glory. Historically accurate, it ain’t, but the time-tested joy of “dressing up” carries the day. One could even argue that, when you get right down to it, what we’re really doing is finding different ways of portraying archetypes. Fantasy people get that Darth Vader is just a tech-savvy Black Knight, and that the Wise Mentor can choose to put on his Merlin, Gandalf, or Dumbledore robes at will.

The rides at the faire are simple, old-fashioned, and entirely human-powered, usually some variation on being swung, twirled, rocked, or bounced. I don’t know how genuinely medieval these are, but I certainly enjoyed the sight of small children perched in wooden dragons, screaming in excitement while a couple of burly guys in peasant shirts worked the cranks to make them “fly.”

There are streets full of stores that sell costume clothing, armour, drinking vessels, metalwork, leatherwork, woodwork, blown glass, dragon masks, fairy wings, and anything else your historical/fantastical heart might desire. You can hire the village insulter to recite your own personal insult, written on the spot, or buy a blossom for your lady love from a flowerseller.

The jousting is impressive, featuring knights in shiny metal armour tilting at each other on horseback with ridiculously long wooden lances. Between rounds, the knights parade before their fans (preassigned by seating section) to preen and boast. Colourful pennants stream in the wind, a member of the royal family presides from a high box, and you find yourself wedged between a steampunk pirate on one side and a Dr Who (4th incarnation, of course) on the other. You can even get married at the faire, afterward feasting in medieval style and viewing the joust from a seat of honour.

Onstage, the comedy is broad and often raunchy and the songs are full of double-entendres. Acrobats, fire jugglers, and storytellers pull patrons from the audience to add spontaneity and entertaining awkwardness to their shows, then pass the hat. There is falconry and “live mermaids,” roasted turkey legs for lunch and a bullwhip-cracking adept to watch while eating them.

An excursion into the Renaissance festival world is a day of delight where, with a bit of imagination and a willingness to play, all ages can enjoy themselves—without clicking buttons or staring into a screen.