2nd day off. Bliss. As I sit at my computer today, coffee in hand, scrolling my mouse down the screen, I have to say how much I love social media. I grew up with a wall mounted telephone where you had to use your finger to spin the dial for each of the numbers in the phone number...and it was a party line, meaning that the neighbours down the road had the same line, and could pick up the phone and hear you, or if they were using it you would have to wait before being allowed to dial out. Now you could pick up the phone and interrupt the conversation and ask the other party to please let you have a turn (noting that I was the chatty teenager down the road and my poor neighbours had to resort to this once in a while to gain access to the outside world). That sounds like many lifetimes ago, but really it was still the best technology we had as late as 1988 in Saskatchewan. Those experiences stay with me, and so it is with delight that my smart phone functions as my alarm clock, emergency camera, and video camera. Before I crawl out of bed I have used it to check email, answered the friends on Blackberry messenger, answered anyone on Whatsapp, responded to regular emails and facebook emails, and begun scanning facebook notifications. I LOVE not needing to be awake when a conversation starts or ends, they just plunk along at convenient moments throughout the day, distant smiles and descriptions waiting to be discovered in a spare moment. The only thing I don't use my phone for is voice conversations...if I have answered a phone call from you in the past couple of years, be impressed, for I am not actually sure what my ringtone is, and in general I don't have even have sound turned on on my phone. I use it on my breaks, in line ups, and in the moments in between. I keep in touch in the day's pauses between face to face conversations and tasks that require my attention. I no longer turn on a ringer that will interrupt or distract me from the moment I am in. I do skype, when I am home and stationary. But my phone and I are always together and will check in soon, but we don't respond to being summoned on demand by a ringtone.
Phone aside, now there is facebook and blogging. I have heard legend of things such as twitter and instagram, and flickr, but I have my hands full with the technology I know already. I know a lot of people scorn the amount of personal information on facebook, and I agree there are some valid concerns. But I confess I delight in drinking my coffee and scrolling down my news feed each morning. Thousands of miles aways from some of the people dearest to my heart, unable to talk about the little stuff each day, I see the newest photos of their children and the updates on all of their firsts, I watch my friends as they explore foreign worlds and smile as they post the treasured pictures of the discoveries of the day...through their eyes I see them building homes in Belize, careers in Jeddah, Doha, Perth, and memories in Cambodia, Vietnam, Switzerland, France, Czech Republic, and beyond. I see familiar scenes in America and Canada. I witness reunions in Scotland, England, Ireland, and the Phillipines between my friends here and those dear to them that they speak of while here. I see friends fall in love with people, places, sports, and occasionally even with an iguana type thing (that's you Tam!). Whether you just landed from a skydiving record or spent the evening with candles, a book, and a bubble bath I read and smile knowing you are happy with your day and are living it just the right way for you. From my adventure, I follow all of yours, and am grateful for each tidbit that you share. I love all of my social media, but blogging is becoming a favorite...because it allows more detail than a status update. And I don't mean that I love providing that detail, I genuinely enjoy reading the longer posts that a blog affords from my friends who are travelling, and hearing their own unique voices in their posts.
That said, back to my post. I left off yesterday uncertain where the day would go, but with the sole hope that I would get a clear sky and a nice sunset picture to post today. The day exceeded all expectations. I took a lot of pictures today, but in order to get to the sunset one in this post, I will have to write like one of those movies where the ending happens first, and then you fade to the beginning and unravel the story from there. So here it goes.
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| 200 days and counting. |
I have approximately 200 days left on the island. If each of them were like today, it would be perfect. And it would also break my heart to leave. I guess that's why we have work. I mostly jest, I have always loved what I do, and in some ways working here will be one of my favorite jobs, but I do crave a new experience and that is part of what compels me to go. After publishing my post, I threw on some yoga pants and a light sweatshirt, grabbed my camera, and hopped on the scooter. I had it in my mind to search for the first pairs of longtails rumoured to be back on island. As I drove away from my yard I racked my brain for what had been on my list to see or photograph that I had mentally developed before all the rain last month. The first thing that popped into my head led to an unsuccessful detour -- the site was closed on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. I doubled back and thought that I would drive up an interesting road I had never been before -- despite seeing as much of Bermuda as I have seen, I know there are countless treasures hidden off in the myriad maze of tangled little roads off the main ones. This one however, was a private estate road, no trespassing. I decided to honor it and get back on South Road and head back towards the hospital. This required a second drive past some construction workers who were happy to pause and yell "hey baby!!!" and do a little dance. While this in not uncommon in Bermuda, it did cross my mind that I should have expected it wearing leggings and an oversize t-shirt slipping off one shoulder with a neon tank below...when you dress like Flashdance, Flashdance will happen. Duly noted. Anyway....Echoing in my head was the voice of my old photography buddy Phil Gee, gone now for 4 whole days, not quite long enough to call him my long lost old photography buddy Phil. It was just a week or so ago that we had talked about returning to the botanical gardens, as the flowers are different there in the different seasons. The last time we met to do photos there was July 2013, so February should look very different. I pulled into the gardens and the first thing I saw was...ducks!
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| He is pretty fly for a duck. I shall call him Duckereux |
Now, I have a bit of a soft spot for ducks. Here's why. As a kid, the first environmental disaster I ever heard of was the Exxon Valdez, and those images of oily suffering animals on TV stuck with me for life. Had I been older than 15, I would have figured out how to get from Saskatchewan to Alaska to help. My parents seemed to frown upon international hitchhiking attempts, so I was kind of out of luck. In the summer of 2005, a train derailed near Lake Wabamum in Alberta, spilling 1.3 million litres of oil into the lake, only an hour and a half away from where I lived. I promptly headed to the site on my days off work ready to scrub ducks as I had promised my 15 year old self I would do if it was ever needed again. It was a lot different that I expected. Unfortunately, the animals are not cleaned immediately, not even within the first few days. Water dwelling creatures have an insulation system that makes them like feathered (or furred if you're a muskrat or beaver) wetsuits. A drop of oil is like a hole in the wetsuit and can make impossible for the to keep body temperature up. Then there is all the oil and toxins in their eyes, jammed into their noses and bills, all the toxins accidentally ingested. No, the first days are spent collecting the animals and assessing them and cleaning the oil out of beaks and bills...a lot of euthanasia happens as many are too far gone. Many more don't survive the following days. They have the stress of human handling, fighting to maintain body temperature, and not succumbing to the poisons they were immersed in. The next step is hydration and nutrition. If they are going to survive, they need sustenance, and that's where rubber tubing and bottles of enfalac come in. Afraid of steeping into a pen of hissing geese? That's nothing until you step into a pen of oil covered hissing geese and start trying to slip a feeding tube down their throat. Anyway, in the first days, after meeting a few university kids from Quebec who actually had hitchhiked across the country to help with the cleanup, I quickly ended up in the intake area with the vets, swabbing out oil, taking temperatures, tagging, and making records. One particularly feisty little duck gave me a honk when I pulled her out of the collection box, and bit me with all the ferocity she could muster. It was about as scary as facing down a butter knife and an irritated peanut butter sandwich...I couldn't help but laugh as she ground her little serrated bill against my fingers.
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| The duck that once bit me looked a little like this |
The vet took a look at her blue tongue and said she was too far gone, too cold, and marked her for euthanasia. I snatched her back and said she had spunk, and a lovely older volunteer did the most amazing thing....she distracted the vet with the next intake and took the little duck and placed her in a box she had in the corner...that she had plugged an electric blanket into. It didn't take long til the vet wanted her back, and while impressed with her sudden improvement in temperature, he doubted that the hemoglobin was good enough but there was no way to tell. "I'm a lab tech!" I said enthusiastically. Next think I knew I was putting in 17 hour days with nothing but a refractometer and some capillary tubes to do hematocrits...it was a tough sacrifice, but in the absence of any other solution, I confess that I resorted to "mouth pipetting" duck blood. The feisty duck lived, and it was worth it! Ever since then, I have had a kinship with ducks. After the chaos of the first few days, I had to return to my official work. I never did wash a duck, but I am sure i saved a few. For the record, I have also used Dawn dish washing liquid exclusively ever since, not only does it clean up ducks, but you can log in each purchase and they donate to wildlife rescue for ever bottle sold.
Anyway, I had a lot of fun rolling in the grass photographing the ducks today. I came across a pretty girl with unusual markings....
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| Pretty girl |
And enjoyed their different looks, the little blue patch on this girls back was brilliant and reflective...
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| Project Runway Duck, flashing the hint of a surprise blue panel under practical brown |
I looked down before scooting off and realized I was covered in leaves, grass, and dirt that I had rolled through and heard my mother's voice when she used to just shake her head when I came in from outside and say "you look like a ragamuffin" (it's a real word, I just checked), but it was worth it both then and now to have a day off in the sunlight admiring nature. And this was just the start of my day....to be continued, I have more photos to take today to keep the blog rolling through any rainy days that may come.
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| Quack on.... |
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