One for the Birds

I figure it is time to join Corinne and Jenny and put up some bird photos (or "birdie pickies" as Dan once amusingly referred to them).

This field season I have found the avifauna particularly eye-catching and intriguing. There are many, many varieties of birds here and I encounter a few in particular every day. Unfortunately, my knowledge of birds and my ability to identify them is pathetic, so I can't tell you many of the names, and most of the names that I will provide were told to me weeks ago and I didn't write them down so I may have gotten them wrong. Apologies to those who know better, and feel free to correct me.

First there are the weavers that live in a dense colony in the one fever tree here at the research center. They have woven dozens of gourd-shaped nests, many of which currently hang in the branches like Christmas ornaments, but most of which seem to be rejected and end up scattered on the ground below. They are yellow, and pretty, but I don't have a satisfactory photo yet.

There are many other birds that live around the research center. The most annoying are probably the doves that hang out on the banda roofs and call loudly, usually at 5:30, a half hour before I wake up. Other birds call in the morning as well, and it is by their calls that I can tell, when I wake up and it is still dark, if it is nearly time to get up or if I have a couple more hours of sleep.

My favorite research center bird is the roller (I think...possibly the lilac-breasted roller?). Such a gorgeous and cute bird! As my possibly made up name suggests, its chest is lilac and then the rest of it is a patchwork of deep blue, turquoise, burnt orange, gold, black and probably some other colors. There are one or two that show up periodically at the center and I feel lucky every time I see one. The photo below was taken out in the field.

Another of my long-time favorite birds is the crowned crane. It is elegant, as cranes tend to be, with a puff of gold feathers on its head. I remember first seeing one of these at the Louisville Zoo one summer during Zoo Camp. I was definitely a mammal girl even back then, but this bird caught my eye and when it came time to decorate t-shirts with puffy paint, I painted a crowned crane. Here is a crane I managed to capture in flight. It spotted a cheetah I was photographing and landed near it (but not too near) and proceeded to announce its presence to all of the would-be prey by calling loudly, hopping up and down, and flying quick circles above it. Very amusing to watch.

I have no idea what the next bird's name is, but it is a constant presence out in the field. I think they are ground-nesting birds. I first noticed them because they are always along the road when I am watching tommies, but it wasn't long before I noticed that the tommies were particularly vigilant to their alarm calls. These birds freak out whenever jackals (or humans, eagles, or other predators) are present and since tommies, especially fawns, are also vulnerable to jackals the tommies tend to pay attention when these birds speak up. Because I am interested in jackal-tommy interactions, I have also found myself looking around for the offending predator when I hear the birds' shrill cries.

Finally there are the ostriches. Enormous, gangly birds. I hadn't given ostriches much thought before this field season, but I am developing a mild dislike of them. They seem to be intent on disrupting my behavioral observations as they constantly walk between me and my subject animals and stop right in my line of sight. This happens with a suspiciously high frequency given the relatively low numbers of ostriches about. I think they do it on purpose. Besides their attempts to sabotage my research, they are just weird-looking. And not just because they have ridiculously long legs and necks. I think all of the features I find unappealing on them I would probably also find unappealing on any other bird, if those features were large enough for me to see them on other birds. Ostriches just take everything and make it way too big. In their favor I will say that their mating dances are amusing and it is eternally fascinating to me that you can actually see whatever they swallow travel all the way down their necks.

In non-bird news, research is going well, but is slowing down as of late because, well, the births are slowing down. The hartebeest have not really been productive since I got here, but the tommies were at first and now have died down. Both species are supposed to be year-round breeders and birthers with pronounced peaks near the rains. I think with last year's severe drought though, even these fairly drought tolerant species stopped cycling. According to Ol Pej's hartebeest monitoring data, hartebeest infants are about half as abundant as usual. I suspect I am seeing few non-peak tommy mothers because of the drought as well: if they stopped cycling and conceiving during the drought last year and then all started up again when the rains came, this year should be particularly synchronized for births, meaning that I am now running short on moms to watch. I am still out there every day watching moms with older infants and non-lactating females and am constantly on the lookout for new moms. I just don't see them. Nothing to do but to keep trying.

Vegetation Work

This week I was finally able to start whittling away at my vegetation work. I had previously been waiting for the armed guard assigned to the research station to return from his time off, but when it turned out that he was getting back on May 19 and not May 10 as I'd been told, I was assigned an unarmed guard, John. Since I am working mostly in wide-open plains, the gun probably isn't very necessary. Mostly I need someone to keep an eye out for any buffalo that might unwittingly creep up on me while I am crouched in the grass. Since you can see everything coming from far off on the plains there was little chance of a surprise encounter and so little need for a gun. But I should have the regular armed guard next week.

The purpose of the veg work is to detect differences in habitat selection among females of different states (mothers vs non-mothers and mothers with older infants versus newborns). At the beginning of my focal observations I record the location of the female by taking a GPS point where I am in the car and then measuring the distance to the focal animal with a rangefinder and the bearing from the car to her with a compass. Then I return later, park the car at the GPS point and follow the compass the necessary distance until I am (approximately) in the same spot the female was in when I watched her. Starting from this point, I study the vegetation along a 25 meter transect. Every meter I poke a thin metal pin into the ground and then count how many leaves and stems are touching the pin. I also note whether the stems and leaves are green or brown and measure the height of the tallest piece of veg in contact with the pin. I have helped with other much slower transects for which the species of each piece of vegetation had to be identified. I am glad that that level of detail is beyond my needs.

I also try to characterize the hiding spots of infants I observe. I note the spots during my focal observations and then return later with a 50x50cm piece of cardboard I've colored in 10x10 black and white squares. I think put the cardboard in the hiding spot and take photos of it at 2, 5, 10, 25, and 50 meters away. I take a photo from my knees, to imitate the viewpoint of a cheetah, and one from a low crouch, to imitate the viewpoint of a jackal. By looking at the pictures and estimating how much of the grid is covered, I can figure out how hidden the infant was in that spot. Since the grass is so high, I've had a harder time finding infant hiding spots than I expected, so I've only done a few of these so far.


My first day of veg work was Wednesday. John and I went out at 7 am. I had donned Nathan's canvas snake leggings, which he had left at Mpala, for the occasion. They were slightly large, but they did the job. I think it's fairly unlikely that I will run across a snake, but better safe than sorry. The morning started out really well. It was nice to be out of the car, walking around, and getting to know the landscape in a different way. I saw many interesting insects and butterflies I just wouldn't notice from the car. The morning was cool and pleasant, despite that I was soaked from the knees down within ten minutes due to the dew and the previous night's rain.

Around 9:30, the sun came out in earnest. It got hot very quickly. Somewhere around my 7th transect I started to get head rushes when I stood up because I had spent so much time squatting and because my water intake was fairly low. As in none. I have a lot to carry on the transects (meter stick, pin, notebook, GPS, rangefinder, compass) so the water bottle stayed in the car. At just before 1 I finished my eleventh transect. I had hoped to complete around ten all day, so I was really happy to find that my pace was quicker than expected. I returned John to the staff camp and rushed home for lunch.

When I got out of the car, the consequences of my productive morning began to assert themselves. I quickly downed almost a full pitcher of water at lunch and polished off a ton of food. Then I noticed that my legs felt like lead and the balls of my feet felt like I'd pounded them a few hundred times with a hammer. I began silently cheering on the approaching rain clouds: if it was raining I couldn't go out for more in the afternoon because my notebook would get soaked. Happily, the rain came just in time and I arranged with John to put off the next veg session until Saturday morning and then went out to do focal work.

The next two days were agony for my legs. 11 transects equates to 275 low squats, which was a little more than I was prepared for after a month and a half of no lower body excercise beyond operating the pedals of my car and walking between places to sit. My legs objected to any and all movement and my quads absolutely refused to hold my weight past a certain angle. Sitting down in chairs became a sort of free fall punctuated by groans and yelps instead of a controlled descent. When I had to step up or down to go in and out of buildings, I looked like I'd just had both my hips replaced.

Things had not improved by Saturday morning, but out I went. After the first few agonizing pin drops my body decided to relent a bit and I loosened up. I was still making funny noises and half-falling over at points. John watched the show amusedly while enjoying his mid-morning cigar(?!?). He probably thought I deserved it for dragging him out there so I could fiddle with grass and photograph cardboard all morning. Still, I made it through the 8 transects and four photo points I wanted to get done, so it was a good morning.

All in all, I do enjoy the veg work. It's a break from my normal routine and a chance to actually interact with the ecosystem instead of just observing from my wheeled bubble. Also I've somehow avoided getting any ticks so far, which helps. I am still moderately sore but yesterday's work seems to have taken the edge off. Hopefully if I can make this a regular activity I won't have to suffer the soreness from here on out.

Little Big Cats

I had a pretty amazing sighting this evening. Benoit and I had gone over the Sweetwaters Tented Camp staff camp to get some Tuskers from the staff store. When we got there we had to wait a half hour because the store clerk was playing in an evening soccer game and no one else had the shop key. We were troubled by the delay at the time, but it turns out it was for the best. On the way home with our crate of Tusker in hand, the car headlights picked up a dark spot in the road ahead. We kept going, expecting whatever it was to move, but soon got close enough to see that it was not the usual hare or guinea fowl. There were two of them and at first I thought they were genets - large genets - but as soon as Benoit said "Leopard cubs!" it was clear. They were a mottled dark brown color, their spots not yet clearly developed, and their eyes shone a light blue-grey in the car headlights. The closer one gave us a miniature hiss before the two scampered off into the bushes by the road. We didn't have a light (or a camera) with us, so finding them or their mother was impossible. Nevertheless, we were elated with our 15-second sighting and totally forgot the hassle of the delay with the beer. It's amazing that I spend most of my time here out in the field hoping and looking for cool sightings, but the best one so far comes out of pure luck when I am not even looking for it!

Movin' On Up

Last weekend, as my companions here at the research center were beginning to leave, I got to move into one of the double bandas they vacated. I was looking forward to it: it would be nice to have more space and hopefully more furniture in which to store my stuff. The small set of shelves and desk in my small room were overcrowded and cluttered. Also, the double banda has an attached bathroom, which is especially nice if you have to get up to go in the middle of the night.

I am not sure exactly what I expected, but it wasn't this. There is more furniture: I have a bedside table with some storage, a desk with more drawers, and a big cabinet with hangers. There is an attached bathroom with a sink, a toilet and a shower. I probably won't use the shower since they are currently only heating the water in the more public showers in the research building. My bed is bigger and, most importantly, the mattress still has some life to it. It's a foam mattress, so by morning when I've slept the whole night in the same spot, I've sunk down so I can feel the bedboards, but it's cushy when I first get in and am falling asleep. My pillow is better too!

The strangest part of my new accommodations is the space. The room is massive and the furniture does not even begin to fill it. There are four lightbulbs in the whole place, and two small windows, so it is usually fairly dark. With the concrete floor, the space, and the low lighting, I feel like I am sleeping on a dancefloor or something. The room definitely does not feel like it was designed to be a bedroom. There are also bugs. Many more bugs than in the smaller room. They tend to stick to the walls though, and since there is room for all of the furniture to be pulled out slightly from the wall, the bugs haven't been a big problem. That is, except for the first night which was after a big rain that brought a lot of bugs out. It was difficult to sleep that night.
So while I think I prefer the coziness and relatively bug-free atmosphere of the smaller banda, given the length of my stay the big banda is definitely the way to go. Having the attached sink and toilet is excellent and falling into a comfy bed after my long days in the field is a blessing.

In other news, a new researcher has arrived. He is very welcome, since I was mildly dreading spending the month alone. His name is Robin and he is British, doing a Masters at a University in London (I forget which one). His father is a diplomat in the foreign service and is currently stationed in Nairobi. Robin is doing some predator monitoring, mostly of lions and hyenas. Benoit, the last of the guests who was here when I arrived, has ten more days left in the country and may or may not be spending most of them at the coast. So I have a small group of friends, and come June at least Lisa the undergrad and Jennifer the new grad student will be coming to join us. So I have gained some privacy with my new accommodations, but am spared the solitude of being at the research center alone.

As a side note, I am working with Mike's sister Kate to promote the products of Kolo, the company she works for. They make high-quality photo albums and scrapbooks and a neat little travel journal called the Essex. I have an Essex here with me, so I send periodic updates for the Kolo blog at http://www.koloist.com/ showing how I am using the journal on my trip. Check it out for more photos and snippets about my travels and research, and check out Kolo's excellent products.

Derby Day

The first Saturday in May. I should be in Louisville, wearing a big hat, perhaps a sundress, and drinking a mint julep. Instead, I am in Kenya, dressed in clothes that seem to be increasingly composed of dirt. I have just eaten a Snickers bar though, which was nice (but not as nice as a julep). Had I thought of it I probably could have traded my left arm for some bourbon in town, but I am not sure I'd be able to find mint, even if I'd been willing to part with my right arm as well. Sigh.

A quiet end to a busy week: Fieldwork all week except a whirlwind trip to Mpala on Wednesday to see Stephanie and pick up some things. I was supposed to work this afternoon, but there was torrential rain during lunch and even after I waited an hour for things to dry out attempting to get to my field site was like trying to drive through pudding. I got to watch all of my animals this morning (although not all for quite as long as I'd like), so this afternoon is not a big loss, and I am really appreciating the unexpected opportunity for relaxation.

This week also saw the departure of the rest of the research center residents. One left Wednesday, another a 5 this morning. The third is gone for the weekend, will be back for a day or two, gone for another four days, and then back for a couple before going for good. After that, I have no expected company, as far as I know, until June. It should be a productive month!

I am not up to date on my Derby news, but Mike sent me the most important information: the horses' names and silk colors. He even threw in a couple sentences of performance description from the Courier-Journal's website. My pick is American Lion for what should be obvious reasons. Hopefully next year I will be able to watch the race in person, or at least on TV. Oh well. For now, I leave you with photos of the closest thing I've got here to a horse and American Lion's mascot: