I admit I was a bit too optimistic about how much I was going to use my macro lens before the summer started, but we had a long weekend and I finally got myself into the alleyway to see what I could find. I can only ID most of these insects to the Genus level (mostly thanks to iNaturalist).
June and July are placid months where we witness the mystery of these chicks being born and looking so damn cute. But now that August has arrived, we’ve passed a threshold.
Most of the chicks are now well on their way to fledging – they’ve replaced their speckled down with sooty-grey juvenile feathers, and can’t resist but to try out their wings. You’ll find them walking along the precarious ledges of their nest, knowing full well that if they fall they don’t have the strength or skill to fly.
Grassy Nest was very active on my visit. One of the parents arrived, and all three of the chicks rushed in, begging for food. I can’t help but feel empathy for the adult. After about a minute, the adult didn’t provide any food and flew away, leaving the chicks rather frustrated.
During my gull survey on Sunday I made another detour to visit the cormorants under the Granville Street Bridge.
This time I sat myself down and tried to take in the whole scene, paying attention to the comings and goings, to juveniles begging for food and awkwardly testing out their wings as they side-stepped along the steel girders. There were many active nests, and some that had served their purpose and were now apparently empty.
Here’s a few photos…
Last week Toumani Diabaté, a virtuoso kora player from Mali, passed away at only 58. As the early morning sun illuminated the city, I was listening to In the Heart of the Moon, an album he recorded with the late and equally gifted Ali Farka Touré.
I mention this not only because everyone should discover new music, but also because it’s a reminder of our mortality as living beings, of our subservience to time. This is a keynote motif of my gull surveys too, witnessing the utter mystery of these birds as they grow from fragile speckled chicks to sooty-grey fledglings, cautiously gliding in the wind.
… and then they disappear into the sky and the city. Perhaps they recognize me – but once they leave their nest, I can’t recognize them. When the season ends, I have a profound sense of loss, yet somehow strangely entangled with joy, as I witness another generation of gulls begin their tentative and risky voyage.
We’ve got some surprising updates this week, so let’s start.
This weekend I was lucky to catch – and quick enough to change my camera settings -– one of the chicks testing out its wings!
