Parrot Conservation: The Kakapo

Kakapo by Shane McInnes

The Kakapo is what happens when there is no predation and nature gets creative. It is the world's only flightless and nocturnal parrot and found only in New Zealand. Unlike other parrots it can store fat, may have a natural longevity of 100 years and apparently smells like fruit.

When population control is left to nature, the intricacy is astonishing. The female lays only a few eggs and only when triggered by the production of large crops, the "mast year", of the rimu tree species. The solitary male then produces booming sounds and hikes for miles to find the equally solitary female.

Once estimated at over 200000, the Kakapo came close to extinction several decades ago, through the imported predation of cats and dogs. Conservation measures have been successful and the number has increased from 40 to over 100. Something this comical and special has to be kept alive.

Kakapos are also impossibly friendly:

Avian Intelligence

Thanks to a documentary, I learned that Ravens travel and live with extended family.  It is strange to think that sitting in the branches above us are dark winged cousins, aunts and grandparents.

I watched behavior that is mostly incomprehensible.  Twigs are selected, stripped with beak and talon (I did not know they could do that), and then discarded. It reminds me of woodworkers, who are not happy with their work.

On rooftops they hide food under shingles. Clever. They seem to prefer wealthier areas, possibly because the roofs are better maintained.  They take rainshowers with joy. Sentinels sit on peaks and warn others of threats; or they could just be discussing the weather.  Shift change involves preening of the one who is leaving. You don't see that in the human world.

I was surprised when I watched a lone raven prevent a significantly larger falcon from gaining altitude with a startling display of speed and maneuverability. It flew above the falcon, anticipating the falcon's moves, preventing it from getting sufficient lift for its larger wingspan.

They watch us. They watch me watch them. And they think. They are the true eyes in the sky. We search for intelligent life in other solar systems, but cannot communicate with the intelligent life around us.

The Entropy of Life

Wistman's Woods

An annual ritual is to go for a long hike in the woods as soon as spring has confirmed its reappearance for more than 2 days. After just a brief time, the bad things that happen to good people and the good things that happen to bad people seemed irrelevant.

I was watching a Labrador excitedly chasing whatever he was chasing in a shallow river, true to his breed. I smiled as he found a branch. Too big. Another branch. Gotta show master.

I relaxed into the soothing tapping of raindrops. Admired the tenacity of life. Listened to birds communicating. Serenity.

I watched as birds hopped on the ground singing to each other and saw them pull earthworms from the wet ground to feed and nurture future generations of feathered singers.

Then I imagined what that experience must be like for the worm.

Totally. Ruined. The. Moment.

Something Weird Happened...Really Weird.

Sprite, Vinny and I, as well as our significant others spent some time at a stunning resort in the tropics. The pools were designed by Gaudi and even featured underground organically shaped water slides. We decided to take a day trip to a small quaint town, while our spouses stayed behind to enjoy the pool.

We got to a small white-washed restaurant that served chicken sandwiches. Vinny and Sprite decided that they were going to explore the local outdoor market and left while I waited for my order.  My order arrived and I looked at my sandwich on the plate. I was about to pick it up, when I noticed that something was moving between the lettuce leaves.  A green head poked out and a groggy black eye looked at me. I was looking at a small parrot, a beautiful orange-beaked conure. He was drowsy, his wings clipped so he could not fly away. "They serve parrots instead of chickens here?" I whispered. He nodded. " I will get you out, but you have to be really quiet." He understood and immediately crawled into a drawstring pouch that I was holding open for him under the table.

I had to find Vinny and Sprite. I walked out of the restaurant into the sunny street and started to run....

Then I woke up.

WTH???? This was as strange and disturbing as it gets. Fellow bloggers whom I have never met had shown up in one of my dreams! No offense to the bloggers who were involuntarily involved, but that dream crossed my twilight zone traumatized for life creepy threshold.

I am a science geek; I have to figure out why my brain does the things it does, especially when it does incomprehensible and disconcerting things.

Scientific theory:

Dreams are no more than our brains staying active while sleeping, usually digesting events and emotions of the day. If we happen to wake up during REM (dream stage), we "remember" the dream. Dreams during daytime naps, which is what I was doing, are particularly vivid, bizarre and frequently disturbing.

Precipitating events and numbered thoughts:

1. I got home. Tired. Made a healthy sandwich with greens, tomatoes and goat cheese on organic rye.
2. On my way home, I daydreamed about a desperately needed vacation, preferably in the tropics, sketching birds, taking photographs.
3. Read the news, came across a certain parrot species, which was going to be my first post and is still sitting in draft. Gotta finish that. I want a conure.
4. Different cultures eat strange things. Anthony Bourdain, Jane Goodall...
5. Quick alphabetical blog rounds. Read Sprite's and Vinny's posts, decided that I am too tired to leave any coherent comment.
6. Take Nana nap. [See Sprite: "Daytime nap"]

Interpretation:
This explains green parrot sandwich, as disconcerting as it may be.
The parrot communicating with me is "normal" in my dreams. I have been rescuing wildlife and animals ever since I was capable of picking them up. Dreaming that they would understand that the big scary ogre is there to help is wishful thinking.

Conclusion:
Strange dreams lead to interesting thoughts about social media.
To be continued...right after I take another napzzz...

So You Know You Can Dance: Bird Edition

Good evening, welcome to our first broadcast of "So You Know You Can Dance". The real life bird edition. Branches have been cleaned, feathers oiled and shined to iridescent perfection and the canopy has been cleared of monkey hecklers.

Our first dance contestants make their home in Papua New Guinea. Audience, please give a warm welcome to the dance crew: "The Rainforest Kilts".






Next up is the Wire-Tailed Manakin, tail shaker of the Amazon. Watch him spin 180 degrees at a time, without missing a beat. Give it up for "Little Man":






Last, but certainly not least is the Red-Capped Manakin bird (Pipra Mentalis) from Costa Rica. He is an expert in the difficult to master typewriter move. A round of applause for "MC Mental".




Millions of years of evolution have restricted voting to females only. In an unprecedented move we are opening the phone lines to any gender, including fish and other animals that are in-between or undecided.

Birds. Shut The FRAK Up!...Please.

I am tired. Why am I tired? Allow me to enlighten you.

My readers should be made aware that I have been rescuing birds and other wildlife ever since I have been capable of picking them up.

The universe has recently shown its deep appreciation for my life-giving rescue efforts by gifting me a nesting pair of birds, which have displayed their gratitude and trust by choosing the tree outside of our bedroom window as their precious new real estate.  I am usually delighted by the operatic performance of songbirds and birds in general, but there is something wrong with this pair. 

I suspect, given the fact that I am unable to identify them, that they may be illegal migrants.  They do not behave like the other birds.  For one thing they get up in what is presumably their own time zone; 3:42 am to be precise.  Initially, I thought they are just jet-lagged, but it is quite obvious that they do not comply with local cultural standards of birdness.

Their morning wake up call is neither song nor sound, but high-pitched, supersonic noise that breaks the sound barrier, as well as my nerves of steel.  This noise has turned me into a self-absorbed and cranky narcoleptic.  According to eyewitness reports, at precisely 3:43 am, my still unconscious mind has been offering my professional credentials to no one in particular or yelling any of the following into a dead cell phone: "Who died?", "GET EVERYONE INTO THE ESCAPE POD!" or "Where is my Mango?"

Approximately 15 minutes later, the witness alleges, neighbors are then woken out of their slumber by someone shouting: "STOP IT!!!! For Frak's sake!" at a tree.

Dear Mutant Birds,

Please kick your fledgling brood out of the nest,

teach them how to fly,

and SHUT THE FRAK UP!