From Russia with love

Photograph by Alan Manson

Wakkerstroom, February this year.

As we were driving into town that particular morning, there were so many of these falcons sitting on the telephone lines next to the road that we had to stop and look. They were unfamiliar to us. Eastern Red-footed Falcon was the description our bird book gave us. Nice.

The insert in the wildlife program on SABC 2 about a month ago had more information.

The Amur Falcon, formerly called the Eastern Red-footed Falcon, is one of the very small raptors, weighing the equivalent of about four slices of bread. But ironically they also have one of the longest migration routes of any bird of prey, travelling the 25 000 km from their breeding grounds in Northern China and Southern Siberia to our summer grasslands in South Africa. In the process they have to run the gauntlet of mass killings by nets in Nagaland in India and long uninterrupted crossings over the Indian Ocean.

Source: avibirds.com

We thought we were merely adding another item to our birding list on that sunny morning. In actual fact we witnessed the survivors of an heroic journey. We’ve also met a native from Blagoveshchensk in all probability.

I’m also thinking – if a little thing goes to all that trouble to get to such a specific place, we can’t be that wrong to pack all our belongings and move there too, can we?

~ o ~

18/10/2013

The wise comment of our friend Elmi on yesterday's post and my response lead me to the following change to my previous ending. For clarity's sake and because it is important for the conversation, thoughts and meditation - the post forms part of all that - I place most of my comment here as well.

I didn't express myself well in that  last paragraph, so it might create the wrong impression. As if I'm doubting or questioning our move. Far from it. As the saying goes: you know when you know. With Wakkerstroom we just knew right from the start.

When did the first Amur Falcon set off from Siberia and Mongolia for a patch of grassland at the southern tip of Africa? Why didn't they go to Australia right from the start? A lot of South Africans do. Apparently very safe and pleasant there. Or Tanzania? It's closer. How little do we understand of the deep calling to deep.

I relate very closely with this fragile brave little bird. Our honing devices set on the same coordinates connect us. One day both of us ("Both" being the thousands of them on the one hand and Matilda and I on the other) just knew and we left for Wakkerstroom. There's mysterious magic in it! But deeper still, there is somehow love. The love of the Other for us humans and birds.

Mary Oliver conveys it beautifully:

The Journey

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

That's better, I hope.

Matilda's comment on yesterday's post was: "Think of how far we could travel or move if we travelled lighter." Now there's something to ponder.

What would I have done without all these wise women in my life! James Bond would have agreed.


George