The real problem of humanity is the following: we have paleolithic emotions; medieval institutions; and god-like technology. And it is terrifically dangerous, and it is now approaching a point of crisis overall. – E. O. Wilson
As evidenced by the lack of updates, my gull nest monitoring has come to a close for the summer. This season was rough – I didn’t find any injured or dead gulls as in previous years, but I was worn down by hours surrounded by concrete, glass, ambulances, and fine particulates.
Meandering the bridges of downtown Vancouver, I felt more out of place than any year before. Like the gulls, I became increasingly suspicious of humans, I avoided them like two magnets repelling one another.
It also seared into me that this is the habitat these gulls spend their lives in. Their perception of the world does not encompass the conceptual distinctions between the natural and the human worlds.
Perhaps they understand more clearly than we do: there is no separation – the human and the natural are not distinct spheres on a Venn diagram with little or no overlap. The natural (read real) world encompasses our minuscule empire, a tiny bubble in the ~4.5 billion year story of our planet. To envision it as distinct and superior is the distilled hubris of our species: the ideology of tech-bros and religious fundamentalists. An existence without context.
On my walks home, I keep a close watch on the young gulls. They congregate together in False Creek, flying in groups of 2-3 (siblings?) or floating lazily along the seawall together in larger flocks of a dozen or more. They’re no more than three months old and now mostly on their own. Their incessant cries for food go mostly unheeded by their parents. But they are no longer stranded on a rooftop. They know the wind and the sky, their eyes assembling the puzzle of the city, attentive to the confounding primates they must share it with.
Red-necked Phalarope
Last weekend I was in Kelowna and found some time to visit a few birding hot spots, in particular Robert’s Lake. To my surprise, I saw my first Red-necked Phalarope (Phalaropus lobatus) darting around near the shore. It’s difficult to comprehend these small birds (18–20 cm; 20–48 g; wingspan 32–41 cm) can spend up to 9 months at sea.
Sora
A juvenile Sora (Porzana carolina) snuck out of a bank of reeds for a remarkably long time – these shy birds usually appear only for the briefest moments as they move between cover.
White-breasted Nuthatch
Rose Valley Regional Park was significantly burnt by the 2023 McDougall Creek wildfire, with only some areas now re-opened to the public. While there, I was able to photograph a White-breasted Nuthatch (Sitta carolinensis), a bird we almost never see out on the coast.
Ring-billed Gull
On the shore of Okanagan Lake, this Ring-billed gull (Larus delawarensis) was resting on a dock with a dozen others.
Until next time…