World Anti Fracking Day

This is a letter I sent to our bird club group after the chair sent a request to sign a petition against fracking that set off a chain of opinions on the subject that got me a bit worried about how people view fracking – especially of the group I feel should know better! Anyway, as opposed to it being locked away in an inaccessible Yahoo group, I thought I'd share my feelings on the subject with the world at large since its World Anti-fracking Day. The response was aimed more at a posting by a member of the group who suggested that we should await the solution as determined by scientists.

Fracking. Should someone at our dinner table even suspect the word was said, verbal fireworks will ensue for anything up to an hour if one party in the debate doesn't leave before then. And this is a debate between 'scientists' – one an old school geologist ('Earth scientist'), and one – myself – an ornithologist ('Nature scientist'). If the world is to wait for scientists to resolve Fracking tradeoffs, the world will be waiting a very long time.

An example of the train of arguments that flowed last night were, from the earth scientist, that society needs gas and that there is a long history of technology that exists for removing gas from the earth, to the stage where in the Karoo wells of up to 5km depth (i.e. very deep even by mining standards) will be drilled. Furthermore, fracking in the United Kingdom shows that extraction can be conducted safely and securely.

If the Earth scientist was trying to reassure me that wells of this depth were a ''good' thing because they went well beyond the level of any water table that may be impacted upon, he failed – as 'extreme' mining merely conjured up the recent ecological MEGA-disaster of Deepwater Horizon, BP's fractured well-head in the Gulf of Mexico. Furthermore, in parallel with 'advances' in mining technology there is a litany of ecological mishaps that vary in scale from minor leaks to major leaks that for instance have compromised the health and life-styles of indigenous people of the Peruvian Amazon. To say we have reached the level of technology now that will prevent such mishaps in the future is erroneous to say the least – such arguments have no doubt been used by natural resource extractors over the decades past. Lastly, the example of 'good' fracking seen in the UK, where drilling occurs to depths of only hundreds of meters and is closely scrutinised by one of the world's biggest armies of 'greenies' – cannot be transferred to the Karoo. Its like saying because it snows in the Karoo it will be a good place to have an ice-sculpture competition because they do that in Alaska where it also snows.

Ok – I'm not anti-fracking totally. Well, on a scale of 1 – 10, where 1 is totally against, and 10 is totally for, with 5 being neutral, I'll say I score 4. I would be 5 because I like nothing better than a stir-fry whipped up on a gas hot-plate, but knock a point off due to guilt for using a non-sustainable resource that is in addition contributing in some way to the clouds of green house gases building around us (I'm trying to ease my guilt for that by not using my gas-heater and using a wood-stove instead).

But Fracking in the Karoo? The Greenie in me is shouting – 1! - but the rational scientist in me can't ignore current societies need for gas, coupled with dubious economic benefits that would arise, even if it is just for maintaining the starving Mossgas facilities. Given those I'll score a 2.5 – so I'm subtracting a point because Fracking technology given its reliance on vast quantities of water is NOT suitable for the Karoo. I'm furthermore subtracting a half point due to Shell's appalling environmental track record, and the fact that they tried to bulldoze there way fast and furiously through the EIA process to get at that gas as fast as possible – a fact ably shown by the independent EIA consultant who checked the initial EIA. If it wasn't for Greenies, there would already be Fracking in Karoo. Ignore 'greenies' at your peril. They are the voice of your consciousness perhaps bought by the marketing machines of mega-rich companies with 20 pieces of silver for each of us.

Now onto controversial topic number 2 – wind farms. Any birder is going to be very surprised where this ornithologist stands on this one. Using the same scoring system as above, I score wind energy as 7. Yes, bird-strikes have been used as a major anti wind farm motivator – badly located wind-farms can be lethal for migratory birds, and certain species (vultures to be precise) are very vulnerable to wind turbines, but research has shown that wind-turbines fall several orders of magnitude below the leading cause of bird deaths – those being glass buildings, high tension wires, cats and cars. And that is even before the testing and implementation of bird scaring devices.

So anti wind-farm sentiments (as far as I can tell) appear to be aesthetically motivated more than anything else - “Not in my backyard!”. For me wind-turbines would be a powerful reminder not to take energy for granted. While I can only speak for myself, when I first saw wind-farms 20 years ago while on a cycle trip through western Europe, my impression was one of awe and amazement – giant statues a testament to modern technology and a sign of hope for a cleaner energy future. Isn't it perhaps time that that emblematic structure of the Karoo – the windmill - got a modern day make-over – perhaps we could call wind-turbines i-windmills?

Perhaps as birders we should be asking, which is more important – the loss of individuals of a few species, or total ecological collapse due to pollution of our most sacred building block of life in arid environments? But perhaps this is over simplying things. Importantly, just because one is pro-wind does not mean one should be anti-fracking or vice-versa. They are really 2 sides to the same coin. In my case, I don't like the coin, but need to best figure out how to use it wisely.

Me, I'm going to sign the petition, even though part of me feels it will be like lighting a match to stop a hurricane. Perhaps its my version of Aung San Suu Kyi putting flowers in a gun. There is a reason half of the population of USA does not believe in climate change – its because of the millions of dollars spent in sowing doubt by companies with vested interests in maintaining the status-quo in a supply chain that stretches from oil production to car sales. The same goes for fracking in the Karoo – I have no doubt that it will happen eventually, simply because of the economical value and buying power of the parties involved. Until we change our ways and subvert that market, by recognising the need for change and buying into green energy options, there is only one possible outcome. Since that is not going to happen anytime soon, the best we can do is ensure the job is done properly by letting concerns be aired. Most importantly attempt to bridge the gap between those that hold the economic power and those that will be influenced by that power – the landowners, those with emotional connection to the land, and anyone relying on water in the Karoo.

With that I end – with only a postscript note to say I won't enter a debate with anyone who has not watched Gasland, and has not read Collapse by Jared Diamond.

Spring into Life

I left winter for some time away in the Czech Republic, during which time, among other things, I dressed up as a pregnant gypsy, had to perform the New Zealand traditional powhiri (or haka), gave a speech at a good friend's wedding – but these are stories for a different blog and a different day. Before arriving back to Cape Town on the 4 September, someone had flipped the season switch. While snow still dusted the higher peaks of the Cederberg, a rainbow had melted on the lower slopes and valleys. Among carpets of green, nature was now giving birth to a bounty of beautiful blossoms (the consequence of a lengthy romance with the unusually wet winter).

Almost straight off the airplane, and it was back to work, with some admin in the afternoon, and then the long bumpy Baines kloof pass from Wellington to Ceres. The next day was straight into the mountains for a quick survey around the Christie Prins hiking trail. Since my last survey a few months ago, someone had worked their way around it with a useful can of spraypaint to highlight the route – especially useful as the route to replace the burnt bridge involves crawling through a tunnel of vegetation. Views of the Ceres valley were of blue, green and pink – with dams full and many orchards preparing their confetti loads of blossoms.

My next stops, after a bit of vehicle fine tuning, was Oppiberg in the Koue Bokkeveld. This was also looking beautiful – not because of any expanses of flowers, but because the local variety of conebush (Leucadendron) turns shades of yellow and red at this time of year. The Cape Rockjumpers were still around; and I was also entertained by a large flock of Cape Siskins warming themselves amongst the rocks in the early morning sunshine and foraging among the restios.

Cederberg Oasis, with cheerful hosts Gerrit and Shantal, was my base for the next three days of survey. Many of the succulent plants of the Rooi Cederberg were blooming, blushing the slopes with pinks and purples. Layard's Titbabblers were in full celebration. The Cape Rockjumpers of Sandrif were still protecting their territory, although my walk to the Wolfberg Cracks was so much quieter than my last experience in terms of human traffic to this landmark destination of the Cederberg. The threat of an approaching cold-front may have been the reason, as clouds and vangaurds of rain breached Uitkyk Pass in a fruitless quest to find the dusty Tankwa Karoo.

The rain meant a slight change of plan, and instead of camping at Algeria, I headed north to Clanwilliam and the Pakhuis Pass, hoping for better weather north and east. Heuningvlei Lodge was my target, and as before, I was welcomed by the cheerful van der Westhuizens, who made a plan to get me out of the pursuing rain. After a morning of rain enforced statistics the following day, I was able to get out to see if the Striped Flufftail I'd recorded in the summer survey was still around – alas all was quiet amongst the grassy Fynbos, although the reluctantly flowering Protea laurifolia was attracting the attention of many nectarivores, and many other birds were also happy to see the back of the rain. Then after a good nights rest it was up and over the Krakadouw Pass, where those Cape Rockjumpers were also still around, and I was surprised by sighting of a Brown-backed Honeybird.

Then it was a long drive (since I decided to go via the Tankwa Karoo) to Montagu, arriving late in the evening. That didn't stop me from setting off early for Bloupunkt peak, part of the municipal hiking trail. Apart from the usual suite of Fynbos endemics, hundreds of Red-winged Starlings were feeding on flowers of Sugarbush (Protea repens). That is a lovely hike, with other highlights including a mating pair of Booted Eagles (damn that I had pen and paper in hand and not my camera) and a male Peregrine flying into drop-feed a brooding female (with that encounter far too quick for even a speedy, camera ready photographer). Then another long drive back to Blue Hill Escape to get ready for the Baviaanskloof Atlasing Weekend.

Spring is about the flowers. So the following photos are mostly a celebration of flowers of the Cape Floristic Region.

An unusual Swellendam sentinel 

Frontal view of a White-backed Mousebird

That white-back is hard to see!

Leucadendrons of the Koue Bokkeveld

A flock of Cape Siskin

Karoo Chat

Layard's Titbabbler

Overberg Underwater

Our attempt to leave Wildcliff on Wednesday was thwarted by a usually subdued stream swollen to a raging torrent by 80mm of rain on Tuesday that kept us indoors all day. Our rendezvous with Chris in George was just not going to happen. Later that day we learnt of an ambulance swept off a road by high waters near Montagu, for which the search for the missing driver is still going on as of today.

On Thursday Chris came through in the Landcruiser to pick up Matt who had been assigned house-sitting duties, while I managed to get out on foot to survey for the first time in 4 days. It was a lovely day, which included records of Red-winged Francolin, and quality views of the resident pair of Peregrine Falcon. In addition, I had several records of Protea Seedeater, which made me wonder why I was suddenly picking them up now in winter in the Langeberg – as I’d had them on Sunday on the Garcia Pass too.

Friday I surveyed out from Wildcliff, over the Langeberg via the Gysmanshoek Pass, as the road to Heidelberg was still cut off by risen waters of the Duiwenhoks River. I reached Swellendam again in lovely weather, and briefly popped into Bontebok National Park to see if I could complete my survey there by bicycle – and indeed one is able to explore Bontebok by bicycle. Meanwhile, the Canola Karnaval was enjoying a day of sunshine resulting in traffic havoc. Perhaps, like me, people had checked the weather report and realised that would be the only day to make the most of the stalls, shows and talent contests – as again Friday night the rain set in with strong winds, lasting most of Saturday. The Canola festival is held at this time of year as the fields of the Overberg are bright yellow with canola flowers.

I still ventured into Bontebok (not by bicycle) to brave swollen stream crossings, to complete a couple of points, which again were very productive as the birds were making the most of any break in the weather to snatch a meal – with much use of prolifically flowering Aloe ferox.   But my views of Agt-huurkop of Marloth Nature Reserve were of mist, snow and cascading streams. Since there are no Olympic medals on offer for daring attempts of dangerous mountains to count birds, there was no incentive to risk my life, so it looked like another route that would need to be postponed, as Grootvadersbos a few days earlier.

The reward for the day was my second sighting ever of a Caracal. Perhaps the poor thing was trying to avoid the inundations around us, or was out hunting after a washed out night. It trotted down the road for a while as I followed cautiously, but on attempting to close the gap for a closer view, the cat slunk off the road and vanished into the Renosterveld. Still – my first wild Caracal photo.

Despite a grey and cold start to the day, today turned out all right. I managed 2 survey lines near Bredasdorp and along the ‘Fynbos Road’ to Elim. This flat section of the Agulhas Plain was very inundated, and there were several flooded low bridges to cross. The birds were enjoying it, with Long-billed Lark calling until late in the afternoon, and many water birds enjoying the lakes, including a pan with perhaps 500 Greater Flamingo.

Thankfully, the next two days forecast look acceptable, but it looks like I’ll have to seek shelter again on Thursday if I wish to stay dry.

Three Blue Cranes in the Overberg

A view of Marloth Nature Reserve from Bontebok

Same view, with a Bontebok

Yay! My first Caracal photo. Poor wet moggy.

Sacred Ibis and Cattle Egrets were among the birds enjoying the flooded landscape.

A ray of sunshine lights up a Canola field and windmill, while rain clouds lurk behind.

A female Orange-breasted Sunbird feeds on Erica c coccinea at Wildcliff

Small mountain streams are now raging torrents - a bit dangerous for the surveys I have to hike.

Scenes from the winter survey so far

The last two weeks (concurrent with the heavy rains and bad weather) I have been on the road retracing the route I undertook by bicycle from February to May earlier this year. Due to a lack of sponsorship I didn’t have to prove anything to anyone by doing it all by bicycle a second time – so I’ve been cruising along in the Suzuki Jimney donated to the project by Chris Lee. This means road surveys have been completed quickly, and transit times are a matter of hours instead of days. In between toe-numbing temperatures during counts I’ve on occasion been able to get back into a nice warm cab. However, many sections of the survey can only be completed by bike and on foot.

I had a fun journey up and down Blesberg (northern Swartberg) by bicycle, from El Yolo, kindly supported by Willem Cilliers. Willem also suggested using whistles on wind-turbines to scare away birds – he uses dog-whistles on his car to scare off kudu.  Recently I hiked through snow on the Oom Stan se Liggies trail up the southern slopes of the Swartberg just north of Ladismith, and hiked half-way up Seweweekspoortberg and Sleeping Beauty in the last couple of days.

Matt Stritch joined me for some of the survey, taking care of some of the driving and packing up camp to move from one spot to the next. He has also been a star with the data entry, and thanks to Matt we are completely up to date with all sightings – I can’t spot birds fast enough for him to enter into the computer! He’s also braved some extreme weather – camping in the rain in Die Hel of all places, as well as camping in freezing temperatures at Seweweekspoortberg (he casually asked me if I’d also had icicles inside my tent on the one morning).

But, we’ve had shelter from cold and rain a couple of times – thanks to Di Turner in George, Tom Barry for letting us use the research facilities at Gamkaberg, and to the Landmark Foundation at the moment for letting us use facilities at Wildcliff Nature Reserve.

Overall, bird activity has not been too bad. Fynbos birds don’t seem to mind the cold, and this means I can survey all day long. They don’t like the wind though. Herewith a selection of my preferred shots.

Typical winter survey attire - here on the Prince Alfred's Pass

Gymnogene with Alpine Swifts

Alpine Swift

Black Harrier - Robinson's Pass, Kouma Trail

Cape White-eyes, Seweweekspoort

Grey-winged Francolin, Rooiberg

Icicles, Liggie's hiking trail

Klipspringer, Die Hel. Wondering about the rain. 

Leopard tracks next to my bicycle tracks on the Botha's Hoek Hiking trail, Swartberg Pass

Female Cape Rock Thrush on Aloe ferox in the Seweweekspoort

Male Cape Rock Thrush

Female Orange-breasted Sunbird, sipping nectar from Paranomus centaurioedes, northern side of the Swartberg

Red dawn from the Rooiberg

Matt and survey vehicles on the Swartberg Pass

An Inconvenient Storm

Time is going too fast! There are too many stories happening that are accumulating and may never be told! Since my last post I have been on the road – trying to get as much done to compensate for time lost due to participation at the Fynbos Forum, and to put time aside for an upcoming wedding. As such, surveys have been conducted dawn to dusk where possible over the last two weeks. Or dealing with storm damage - here is the story of Saturday 14 July and the arrival of the cut-off low pressure system, the closest we here in the central Cape region will experience to a hurricane.

Phoebe Barnard, my postdoc supervisor, and Dale Wright, Western Cape Birdlife South Africa regional manager, had been planning to rendezvous for a trip to the Baviaanskloof to tie in with my survey, to see first-hand what I was doing, to help out, and to do an Important Bird Area (IBA) site assessment of the Baviaans-Kouga IBA. Due to busy schedules on the part of all three of us, it had taken weeks to organise, and it finally made sense to tie it all in on a trip to one of the most important regional conservation conferences – the Fynbos Forum.

However, dire weather had been predicted for the weekend of our planned reunion all week. But we live in hope. So Phoebe and Dale still made the trip up from Cape Town to Blue Hill on Thursday, while I was surveying Prince Alfred’s Pass. As predicted on Friday the weather was overcast and drizzly. Due to a booking error by ECPTA we had not been able to book Bergplaas in Baviaanskloof for the Friday night. Not wanting to camp at Rooihoek (the alternative accommodation on offer) in the rain, I said I would rather stay at Blue Hill and see how things panned out on the Saturday. Dale decided to head to Graaf Reinett to visit his girlfriend doing her ‘Zuma year’ (general practitioner practise year).

During the night the rain started to pick up and by Saturday morning it was as if the sun had decided not to rise again it was so dark. The wind from the south blew stronger and stronger, driving rain horizontally down the valley. Gusts would bend the cypress trees nearly double. The rain sometimes starred the windows as sleet. By 9am I decided to see if Phoebe needed rescuing as she was sleeping a cottage across the stream. I went outside to be greeted by the site of massive branches from our giant Belumbra tree lying on the ground, literally one inch from where the Hilux was parked.

Driving to the cottage the water was already up over the weir, but Phoebe was comfortable in the cottage with a fire, blanket, hot-water bottle and laptop. However, with rain still coming in so much it was running down the chimney, we decided it was time to evacuate. We lit the fires in the main house and settled down to work on laptops. Volunteer Matt had entered all the data he could, and started to update his photos. After lunch he then decided to bring in his camera trap, which was at the top paddock by the pine trees. He came back to report that the normally dry east-road stream was flowing. Sure enough, a dam had formed in the upper lucern field. Water was pouring down the road, and Chris and I were worried about it all flowing down the steep embankment and eroding away the road. So I got the Kubota and started to reinforce diversions. Some had to be done by spade due to all the water also pouring off the mountain. After Matt had finished taking photos of the main stream, now at the highest levels we have ever seen it, full of wood and debris like an Amazon river after a storm, he and Phoebe also helped pitch in making temporary water diversions. All of this in non-stop rain.  Matt documented the day at his blog: http://zoologistinafrica.blogspot.com/2012/07/blue-atlantis-escape.html

Water coming over the weir must have been raging across at about a meter deep – impossible to cross. Then as it crossed the area cleared of wattle was picking up a lot of branches. At the bridge just before our intersection with Pierre and Sonja’s road a massive tree trunk had been washed across the road. One by one we retired from the rain as wet and cold took its toll. That night we had a nice dinner at Chris’s house, while the rain abated. The rain gauge stood full at over 100mm – the biggest one day rainfall in our 4 years here. Our neighbours, who had been a bit more attentive about emptying their rain gauge, reported over 200mm. Rumours from the Langkloof, on the southern side of the Kougas where we are, were close to 400mm of rain. Our concern now was how long we were going to be trapped – the news told of people trapped on the N1 in the Karoo in snow, flooding in Port Elizabeth, and road closures all over. Perhaps surprisingly during all this there had been only one major powercut, which was fixed withing a matter of hours, and the telephones worked the whole time – so we were able to find out that Dale had managed to get out of Graaf Reinett to enjoy the snow, but that the route back south to us was still open.    

On Sunday it was still drizzling but we headed out to inspect damage. A small dam on our river on our neighbours farm had been washed away. The water was still flowing strongly over the bridge we needed to cross to get out. Plus there were now two large tree trunks on it! Otherwise, there were no road collapses, so our efforts in the rain on Saturday may have helped. However, Chris had forgotten to collect in the camera trap he had placed in the normally dry stream bed - so that looks like it is gone (I couldn’t see it when I went to look and the water was flowing strongly still!). It was clear we would not be able to get out in any vehicle that day, leaving us to wonder how long we would be trapped, and if we would make it to the Fynbos Forum. Overall, I was thankful I had made the decision not to go to Baviaanskloof, knowing that there would be no way in our out for some days.

By Monday the water had subsided enough that it looked we could attempt a crossing out of back route in the Hilux – we were worried that a crossing in the little Suzuki would simply result in it being floated away down the river. We rendezvoused with Dale on the main road, having navigated our dirt Hartbeesrivier road carefully – it had withstood the storms well, considering. It was in the Langloof, which had borne the brunt of the storm, that we got to scenes of real devastation. The Kouga River was roaring like I have never seen it before. The Krom River, which flows down the Langkloof to St Francis Bay, and is normally a placid stream, had burst its banks and we could see that the previous day the entire valley would have been filled with water. It was truly impressive.

The Krom River - this is normally a nearly insignificant stream

At the Fynbos Forum we met Baviaanskloof staff who informed us that indeed people were trapped in the kloof. The manager showed us an impressive picture of someone’s vehicle buried in mud up the roof. So we felt lucky to be there!

By the end of the busy week at the forum, with much meeting of people and learning news things about Fynbos, we headed back to Blue Hill. We were surprised that water levels were still high, and water still seeping out of the hills, despite a sunny week. The water logged ground through up one surprise – a Common Mole-rat – a subterranean mammal not often encountered above ground!

Common (African) Mole-rat

However, with water continuing to flow from all sorts of places, there was also lots of drama, including managing to get the Toyota Landcruiser bogged in mud – no mean feat given this is the pride of our 4x4 fleet! And just this week a fountain emerged from behind the main house, and appears to have caused havoc with our electrics.  Again, Matt documented me digging the cruiser out on his blog: http://zoologistinafrica.blogspot.com/2012/08/stuck-in-mud.html

As I sit and write, more rain comes in waves across the mountains. What more fun are we in for I can only fear.