BIRDS OF ZIMBABWE, Part 2: Guest Post by Karen Minkowski

Red-headed Weaver, seen near Dete, Zimbabwe, Africa

My friend Karen Minkowski is spending several months in Africa and sent me some of her wonderful photos taken on her morning bird walks. Karen and I were on the same memorable trip to East Africa in 1971 that I wrote about in my post on May 16, 2011. Karen has been back to Africa many times since then, both for work and for pleasure. I thank her for sharing her terrific photos and observations of African wildlife with The Intrepid Tourist. Here is the second part of her post on the birds of Zimbabwe.

Early each morning I walked along the road observing and photographing birds. The abundance, diversity and beauty of Zimbabwe's birds were a continual source of enjoyment for me. The beautiful Red-headed Weaver, seen above, builds its nests in smaller colonies than does the Southern Masked Weaver I wrote about in last week's post.

Some of the most intriguing interactions I witnessed were between two different species. Here, a fledgling Jacobin Cuckoo begs for food from its host parent, a Dark Capped (Common) Bulbul.

Cuckoos are brood parasites that lay their eggs in the nests of other species who (for the most part) accept the egg and expend their time and energy rearing the parasites' young, often along with their own. The cuckoos' strategy demands close cooperation between male and female. Together they quietly approach a potential host nest. The male cuckoo starts calling to distract the host. Eventually he perches just above the nest, taunting the host. When the host leaves the nest to attack the intrusive male, the female cuckoo moves in and lays her egg. Then the cuckoo pair flies off, leaving their genetic legacy to the (hopefully) good parenting skills of the host.

Five days later I saw the young cuckoo again with its host parent. It looked to me like the cuckoo had grown and was now using its size and and perhaps aggressive nature to bully the bulbul. The cuckoo would relentlessly thrust its bill at the host parent, until it would finally fly off in search of another meal. At other times the host parent, probably by now exhausted, appeared to resist: a standoff.

Whenever the cuckoo finished eating what the bulbul had brought to it, the bullying began again.

Often I used my photos, like this one of the Red-backed Shrike, to identify a bird with my app once I was back home.

Striped Kingfisher with an insect in its bill. Many kingfishers feed on insects, reptiles, and frogs, even small mammals, either exclusively or more frequently than on fish and other aquatic creatures.

When I photographed this Yellow-billed Hornbill I thought it was eating a flower. Enlarging the image revealed that it was actually a moth. 

The Laughing Dove is distinguished by its blue wings.

The Tropical Boubou's call is lovely, haunting. I only saw it making that sound once, or I would have forever been mystified. When the bird was foraging low in the foliage or on the ground for insects, I could often see that it was uttering a completely different call, hoarser, and more coarse.

By eight a.m., the sun was burning away the cool, fresh morning air and I headed home, eager to rehydrate, look at my new photos, and identify new bird sightings.

 

BIRDS OF ZIMBABWE, Part 1: Guest Post by Karen Minkowski

 Southern Masked Weaver(male) near Dete, Zimbabwe

My friend Karen Minkowski is spending several months in Africa and sent me some of her wonderful photos taken on her morning bird walks. Karen and I were on the same memorable trip to East Africa in 1971 that I wrote about in my post on May 16, 2011. Karen has been back to Africa many times since then, both for work and for pleasure. I thank her for sharing her terrific photos and observations of African wildlife with The Intrepid Tourist.

For six weeks I lived in Dete, a small town of about 3,000 people in western Zimbabwe on the border of Hwange National Park, while I was volunteering for a foundation that works with local communities. A dirt road separated my house from the bush and the nearby national park boundary. Early each morning I walked along the road observing and photographing birds. The abundance, diversity and beauty of Zimbabwe's birds were a continual source of enjoyment for me. Here are some that I managed to capture with my camera.

A female Southern Masked Weaver is inspecting a nest that appears to be undergoing repairs, as suggested by the juxtaposition of old and new grasses. The male builds the nest, and if the female accepts it she'll line the inside with soft plant materials. Like many weaver species, this one also nests in colonies.

The birds chatter away as they prepare their nests. Each bird extracts a single blade of grass from the surrounding bush or gardens and then flies back to the colony to weave it into the nest. Taking a break to feed, small flocks of Southern-masked Weavers gorge on grass seeds or forage for insects.

The Blue Wax Bill's small size and habit of flitting quickly in and out of bushes made it difficult for me to get a photo. I finally resorted to continuous burst shooting in hopes that one of many images might come out in focus and with the bird acceptably posed.

This is the stunning, yet somehow oddly put-together Southern Red Bishop in full breeding regalia. He looks to me as though he'd donned a red head scarf and then casually tossed the end around his neck before showing up at his display site. Perched below him is his rather drab-colored (potential) mate. 

I loved watching birds interacting. Sometimes an encounter lasted just long enough for one bird to land and another, nearby, to fly off, clearly ceding space to the first; at other times a prolonged interchange would occur.

These two African Golden Orioles faced each other while one chirped at the other. Then they would separate, likely foraging for insects, but never more than a couple meters away. Then they came close together again, with more chirping, and again separated. I couldn't tell if they were mates or a parent and offspring. After a few minutes one flew off to another tree, and the bird remaining behind suddenly changed its call from chirping to a lovely warble. Soon it, too, left the tree and both flew out of my sight.

Late one afternoon, I photographed these Arrow-marked Babblers through my open bedroom window as they huddled together and engaged in mutual and self-preening. They forage in small groups of 9-12 and babble as they move through the lower strata of vegetation and on the ground. The babbling probably serves to keep the group together.

Quite a bit of commotion - movement and noisy vocalization - attracted my attention to these two very animated Southern Yellow-billed Hornbills.

Eventually one, I assume a parent, fed its hungry, insistent young. 

Look for Part 2 of BIRDS OF ZIMBABWE next week.

SUPERBLOOM! Flowers Everywhere, Guest Post by Gretchen Woelfle

California poppies, Antelope Valley

My friend and fellow children's book writer Gretchen Woelfle, a frequent contributor to The Intrepid Tourist, recently went to see the amazing burst of wildflowers blooming in the Southern California hills and deserts this spring. Here is her report.
Southern California has made the national and even international news again this spring. No fires or floods or earthquakes this time, but a Superbloom in the hills and deserts, and in small native plant gardens like my own. Just add water and anything will grow in So Cal.  Add lots of it and you get a Superbloom!

Poppies below, gawkers above at Antelope Valley. Poppies open in mid-morning and close at sunset.

The Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve, fifteen miles west of Lancaster, outdid itself this year. This desert grassland, with eight miles of looped trails, offers close-up and long views of whole hillsides of poppies, interspersed with lupine and other colorful blooms.

Desert garden at Anza-Borrego Visitor Center.

 Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, a 600,000 acre state park north and east of San Diego, comes alive with winter rains. The visitor center near Borrego Springs is staffed with friendly rangers who can guide you to the best flower-viewing areas, as well as camping and hiking sites.

A desert bouquet.

The park is a refuge for the rare and endangered bighorn sheep. I didn’t spot any on this trip, but the flower display on the Alternate trail up Palm Canyon was the most spectacular I’ve ever seen. 

Indigo bush in full bloom.

Tiny flowers carpet the ground, bigger ones entwine with mounded flowers to create a natural bouquet. Tall shrubs like the indigo bush and ocotillos sport brilliant blooms as well.

Ocotillo against the mountains.

My own native plant garden, designed by my son back in 2001, has evolved over the years as certain species have thrived and others not.

Native chaparral grasses in my garden.

This year, soft mounds of sages (black, white, and California), California brittlebush (bush sunflower), manzanita, California buckwheat, penstemon, poppies, and tall chaparral bunch grasses make the walk from the sidewalk to my front door a botanical adventure.

White sage, California sage, bush sunflowers in LA.

The painted lady butterflies loved the record rains too. They staged an invasion this spring, as they migrated north. Millions were seen along California's highways, byways, and gardens.

Painted lady butterfly (Vanessa carduii)

I couldn’t capture a photo as they flew by, but Caroline Arnold supplied a photo for me, taken in my garden when she was working on her latest book, Butterflies in Room 6.
Viva la lluvia!

Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve: https://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=627
For Caroline's report of her visit to Anza Borrego State Park in 2013, click HERE.

HOMAGE TO SUNDIALS: Eight Year Anniversary of The Intrepid Tourist

Giant wall Sundial at Redlands University, Redlands, CA

Eight years ago I launched The Intrepid Tourist as an outlet for my travel writing. Since then I have posted a new article once a week, accumulating a whopping total of more than 500 posts--some about far away places, others much closer to home. Most are about my own travel experiences, but others are about the trips made by family and friends. I thank all my guest posters who have contributed reports of their adventures on The Intrepid Tourist and shared their personal views of the world.

Berkeley Botanical Garden, Berkeley, CA

In many of my travels, I have come across sundials and been fascinated by both their beauty and technology. In celebration of the beginning of a new year of The Intrepid Tourist I an sharing a few of my sundial photos. 

Sundial Bridge, Redding, CA

Ranging in size from the giant sundial bridge at Turtle Bay in Redding, California, to a small garden decoration sundial at the Clark Library in Los Angeles, each one has its own special character.

Sundial by Eric Gill, UCLA Clark Library garden, Los Angeles, CA

The oldest known sundial was found in Egypt found in the Valley of the Kings (c. 1500 BC). I have never been to Egypt, but in Rajasthan, India, there is a collection of nineteen architectural astronomical instruments built by the Rajput king Sawai Jai Singh II, and completed in 1734. It features the world's largest stone sundial. I visited this amazing UNESCO world Heritage site when I was in India in 2000.

Stone sun dial at Jantar Mantar, Rajasthan, India

The marker, or gnomen, at the center of the sundial casts its shadow as the sun moves across the sky and indicates the time of day. Importantly, its angle must be equivalent to the Earth's latitude at that point.

Sundial at the Santa Barbara Zoo, California at 4:00 p.m.

A simple way of telling time by the sun is with your own shadow. At the Santa Barbara Zoo, in Santa Barbara, California, is a sundial that is read by standing in the center and casting your own shadow.

Alpha and Omega Sundial in memory of Harriet M. Gale, Grinnell College, Grinnell, Iowa. Paul T. Granlund, Sculptor

At Grinnell College a sundial in the center of campus honors the wife of a retired physics professor. At the University of North Carolina, the Morehead Sundial is on a plaza near the center of campus and has an accompanying plaque that tells us exactly where we are on Earth. I love sundials. They are beautiful and functional and as long as the sun is shining, will always tell the time.
Happy 8th Anniversary to The Intrepid Tourist!

Morehead Sundial Plaque, UNC Campus, Chapel Hill, North Carolina

JAPAN, Hakone National Park: The Pleasures of Staying at a Ryokan, from the Memoir of Aunt Carolyn

Room at Traditional Japanese Inn

My husband's aunt, Carolyn T. Arnold, traveled to Japan in the 1960's and 70's as the leader of a tour group. Her description of her group’s experience staying at a traditional Japanese inn brings back memories of my own experience at a ryokan in the Japanese Alps.

After leaving glittering Tokyo, my groups always spend a few days at the Fujiya Hotel in the wooded mountains of Hakone National Park. It is very Japanese in architecture but adapted to Western ways of living. An authentic Japanese inn, called a ryokan, adjoins the hotel. Janet and Nancy from our group, wanted to stay at the ryokan, so arrangements were made for them to do so. The young girls loved it. Each was assigned a hostess who first brought a fresh yakata (a cotton kimono) to relax in, and then gave them a cup of green tea. For the night, the maid unrolled several layers of quilts on the floor, and the living room became a bedroom.
The rest of the group preferred more Western ways–a bed, for instance. Our rooms looked out on lush gardens and brilliant azaleas, even a tiny waterfall and goldfish. A yakata was neatly folded at the foot of the bed.

Fujiya Hotel

Hakone Park is noted for its hot mineral springs, so I suggested that those who cared to do so, could reserve a private “bath” and a massage afterwards. Public bathing of both sexes is acceptable in Japan, but I reserved a private “bath” for each of us. We were advised that we must not enter the bath unclean, but we should sap and rinse well with a bucket of water provided beside the pool. What luxury to relax in the warm pool!
I had ordered a masseuse (female), so I was quite jolted when a man appeared at my door after my bath. I repeated “masseuse” several times. He said, “Don’t be afraid, missy, it’s okay.” And, it was.
Janet and Nancy enjoyed their stay at the ryokan so much that later in Takamatsu our whole group stayed at one. We were greeted by a matronly hostess who indicated that our shoes were to be left at the door. Then, each of us was led to his/her room, which had rice paper windows and sliding doors. The only furniture was a low table. The maid indicated that I was to remove my clothes and don a fresh yakata. Then she served tea and “biscuits”. At that moment I was startled by squeals and running noises in the hallway. I rushed out to see Charlie, an eccentric older man in our group, racing down the corridor in his undershorts and shouting, “No girl is going to strip me!” The maid, giggling hysterically, came hurrying after, holding his yakata. She finally captured him and dressed him properly in Japanese fashion. I think everyone enjoyed, at least for a few days, our stay at a ryokan.

Perhaps the original intrepid tourist was Carolyn Arnold, my husband’s aunt.  A single school teacher in Des Moines, she began traveling abroad when she was in her forties, beginning with a bicycling trip through Ireland in 1950.  She went on from there to spend a year as a Fulbright Exchange Teacher in Wales, to more trips to Europe and beyond, and eventually became a tour leader, taking all her nieces and nephews (including Art) on her travels.  When she retired from teaching, she wrote of her experiences in a memoir called Up and Down and Around the World with Carrie.  Today, as I read of her travels and look at her photos, I marvel at her spirit of adventure at a time when women did not have the independence they do today.