Quirks of Biebrza Valley

-Wild boar and moose skins mounted on the wall add to a room’s decor.
-After one shot of vodka, you’re obligated to have at least five more.
-Gugny’s tap water tastes strangely similar to the scent of marsh water.
-Pride is taken in White Storks nesting anywhere from telephone poles to chimney tops.
-Elaborate burial sites look more like art exhibits.
-Bus stop huts for a bus that I’ve seen only once.
-Immense trust is put into visitors to honor national park restrictions.
-When someone gets lost in the marsh, the police stop at the hostel for a coffee break.
-The happening weekend hang out spot for young men in Trzcianne is in front of the adjacent markets. 
-Prominent crosses and shrines stationed in front of every other house as a symbol of Catholic pride.
-Communist era instant coffee in the market, which is only 30% coffee and the rest a type of grain.
-All of the produce in small, independent stores is locally grown, even though it’s not advertised. (I’m not sure about the bananas though.)
-House pets and cows freely wander the streets.
-Crosswalks are merely for decorative purposes on the streets.
-No matter how fast you seem to be driving, several cars will still overtake you.

Northern Safari

 The other day, I decided to explore the “wet meadow” along a different path, and on the island, towards which I was heading, there was a large, brown lump of something.  Getting a better view with my binoculars was useless, since I dropped them in the marsh two days prior and they were still quite foggy.  My first thought was an elk, which I discovered to be correct, once I crossed the island and saw him frolicking through the marsh 100-200 meters away.  Maybe he was actually running from me, but it looked as if he was enjoying himself.

Another day, I was driving down the horrible, rutted dirt road to pick up the others from a work site, when four wild boar piglets popped out from the vegetation to the left of the road.  They didn’t seem alarmed at the intrusive presence and noise of the oncoming vehicle, simply standing in the road and observing it for a few moments.  I cut the engine and watched them until they disappeared into the grasses on the opposite side.  Mom was not in sight, but I’m sure that she was keeping a close eye on things, concealed within the overgrowth.

Several weeks ago, we took our day off to look for beavers, but without success.  I returned to the site with one of my co-workers earlier this month to give it another go.  We saw no signs of them on our walk into the forest, even at their village of dams and dens, yet on our return trip, there was a tree root in the stream that looked suspiciously like a beaver.  Presently, it began to casually paddle about and climb onto the shore occasionally to munch on some leaves.  Out of nowhere, another beaver came into view, and yet another, a bit further downstream.  They swam about paying us no mind for a good fifteen to twenty minutes, before one became spooked by some unknown, hastily diving underwater with a harsh splash of his tail.  And then, they were gone.

Angry Birds

Following a more successful trip to plot A last week, I decided to try wandering it on my own, in order to gauge the likelihood of searching the closest subplot solo on our next A day.  I only made it about 200m from the end of the main path along one side of the subplot, when I was greeted by the angry chipping of a female Aquatic Warbler.  I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to add another nest to our growing data set, especially since it is becoming a race against time to discover nests before the chicks fledge. 

From my place on the path, I watched her fly a few meters back and forth between two flowers, which grew slightly higher than the surrounding vegetation, chipping loudly and insistently all the while.  After some time, she began to quiet down slightly and even leave her perches for a few moments to rummage up some grubs for her babies.  I observed her duck down in several locations only a couple of meters apart, which made me think that her chicks had already left the nest and were now scattered about this small section of the marsh. 

But, when I finally left my post to inspect these areas, they were far too damp and the vegetation too sparse to be a hideout for a young fledgling.  Not to mention, she would occasionally pop back up with the same insect in an attempt, perhaps, to give me a false idea of her nest’s location.  She also employed other tricks of going down in one spot and coming up from another, or even flying in, from what seemed a distance away, with more food.  She never seemed to stay in one spot long enough for me to be certain that her nest would be there. 

Yet, my three hours of observation time did yield a deformed circle of a few meters’ diameter, which she frequented, so I am hopeful to find a nest within this area next time.

Moment of Truth

I had built up so much anticipation over the outcome of this next moment of truth that by the time the day arrived, I could hardly recognize it, or any other associated feeling for that matter. It felt like a dream loading equipment into my pack, hiking up my waders, and strolling with the team along the boardwalk towards our entrance path onto the marsh. The site had changed so much since I was last there, on that fateful day of my injury, with tall reeds now crowding each other and spilling over the edges of the boardwalk.

I eased myself gently off of the boardwalk with my trusty hiking poles, and kept a slow, steady pace, while intently watching where my feet would fall, in spite of being unable to see anything through the murky water. So far so good, as little leg lifting was required over this well-worn path. I was determined to make it to the end of the path, but after having accomplished this, I then set my sights on checking a nest only 100 meters from where I now stood. Seeing my first Aquatic Warbler nest was too much to pass up. Approaching the plot, I had to pick up my legs more, in order to get over the higher, denser vegetation, to which my knees began to protest.

Finally, I found the marker and after a brief search, I parted the litter to find five pairs of tiny eyes gazing up at me with upturned pale yellow beaks resting on the nest’s edge and their gray bodies huddled together in an area no more than ten centimeters in diameter. I quickly recovered them and walked away, as mom was chipping frantically from a willow bush a few meters off.

I was certain that my knees would be mad at me tomorrow, but the journey was well worth it, and even now they are only sore from the intense, unfamiliar workout. I’ll see how much more progress I am able to make the next time!

Corncrake (Crex crex) Sighting

Since that first day, I have often hiked on that marsh, gradually increasing my distance and duration to build up my strength and endurance, carefully testing the limits of my knee.  A couple of days ago, the wind finally died down, so that I was able to see and hear all of the dusk activity.  Aquatic Warbler trills and Corncrake creaks seemed to surround me.  Barn swallows and Snipes swirled overhead.  The island’s willows were bustling with Whinchats and Marsh Warblers. 

Nearly every time I had come to the island, I would hear a Corncrake calling from a short distance away.  Tonight was no exception, and I was determined to find him, especially as I still remembered my missed opportunity one evening on our way back to the car from a plot in May.  Stealthily, I tracked the origin of the sound to the edge of the island, close to where I had come from.  The call remained in the same general vicinity, but the Corncrake was definitely on the move.  I stopped and strained my eyes to see through the tangle of grasses surrounding me. 

Suddenly, a loud creak sounded from behind, startling me.  I slowly turned and saw an eye peering back at me through some dried vegetation, only a couple of meters from where I stood.  Presently, he stretched out his neck and let out another call, so that I was able to get a better view of him.  He quickly retracted back into the vegetation for further observation, as he was still unsure what to make of me.  Once I returned my attention to the original individual, who I had been pursuing, I heard the one from behind dash out across my path and into the grasses that I now searched.  He became silent after that, perhaps from the shock and terror instilled in him by my presence.  Having little success tracking his friend, I decided that I would leave them be and head for home with a brilliant red-orange sunset lighting my way.

On the Marsh Again

After a long day of walking around Bialowieza, I felt that my knee was ready to try a slightly more intensive hike. Just outside of Gugny on the grounds of Biebrza, there is a birding tower at the center of a marsh, a short walk from dry land. A week or two ago, I determined that reaching this tower would be my first step in reconditioning myself for work in the marshes, as it seemed a reasonable distance and the marsh was more like a wet meadow.

Now, my moment of truth had arrived. I set my sights on the tower and plunged in. I immediately noticed the difference in this environment, as the water level was so low that Wellies would have sufficed, instead of waders, and the vegetation was shorter and sparser than out at the plots. These conditions were even better than I had anticipated for a trial run. My knee made a few complaints along the way, but nothing serious enough to keep me from setting foot on that island oasis. I felt as if I were on top of the world stationed in the tower, and the thrill intensified, as a strong wind whipped by, drowning out all sound and causing the structure to sway.

Białowieża versus Biebrza

For a change of scenery, we all took a day trip to Białowieża National Park. We passed by rapidly changing landscapes of dense forests, fields, and small villages. The most significant shift occurred in Białystok, the major urban center in northeast Poland, composed of high-rise buildings and a confusing web of highways, some of which were not even on the map. Our first stop was to the bison reserve, where patrons are guaranteed to see these endangered animals, if they are not so lucky to spot them in the wilds of the park itself. As we wandered, it became clear that this was more like a zoo with each species on display, rather than a mimicry of the animals’ natural ecosystem. It was particularly dispiriting to see the caged elk and deer, when they are so commonly seen within Biebrza. Outside of the gates, a string of vendors had set up shop, selling everything from tacky souvenirs to baked and farm-raised goods.

At the park’s southern entrance, we were further struck by how tourist-oriented the park was. Clear, paved or cobbled walkways led to an education center, a natural history museum, and a restaurant, but there was no obvious access to hiking trails. We birded as we walked, catching glimpses of species that we had not come across in Biebrza, owing to the drier, forested habitat.

A short drive away was Białowieża’s old-growth forest, which had been salvaged by default through the preservation of royal hunting grounds. All of these trees were named in honor of Poland’s and Lithuania’s most beloved royalty. We strode along a well-kept boardwalk, which made such a short loop through the forest that we retraced our steps back again.

Public access to the park is largely restricted, unless one is willing to invest in hiring a guide. It was difficult to conceive how inaccessible the park was having come from Biebrza, where much trust is put in the public to engage with nature responsibly. However, this is stance is certainly influenced by the fact that Biebrza is not a major tourist attraction, receiving far fewer visitors than Białowieża. Needless to say, it felt wonderful to be back in the wild and rugged Biebrza and homey Gugny.

Ghost Town

Since my arrival, the hostel has been bustling with people, as groups of students unloaded each week to count singing male Aquatic Warblers throughout Biebrza National Park.  For the first two weeks, only a few were present, as the project was just beginning.  I enjoyed their presence, even though I took little initiative to strike up conversation.  Fortunately, some individuals did initiate conversation.  They never failed to impress me with their understanding of English, and put me to shame, as I was unable to hold a conversation in Polish. 

The dynamic of the hostel shifted with the daily arrival and departure of volunteers, tour groups, biologists, and other random guests.  Everyone seemed to immediately connect, conversing easily and unifying as a group, particularly at the nightly parties.  Yet, with the language barrier, I could not be sure how deeply these connections extended and how well everyone related to each other.  So I was left with the impression that they had become like family in this short period of time. 

Last Wednesday, about thirty students from Lublin arrived and that night commenced the wildest party I had yet witnessed at the hostel.  Some individuals even clambered up into the attic and insisted on peering down through our bathroom vent with their torch and conversed there throughout the night.

Needless to say, it was a sleepless night.

By the next day, the crowd had drastically dispersed, and now, there are two or three people left on the property with my co-workers and me.  It feels like a ghost town.  The quiet is at times refreshing, as when we spent a relaxing evening congregated around the fire pit.  We were only joined by the mosquitoes, whose company that we could have done without.  Yet, during the day, when all are off working and I am left to myself, the hostel seems like a ghost town and the silence feels somewhat unsettling. 

Down for the Count

Within the first week, I’ve managed to injure myself on the job.  I’m uncertain if I somehow twisted my knee in stumbling about on the uneven marsh turf or if I overextended my leg in my many attempts to heave myself over tall grass tussocks from my sinking spot in the marsh.  Either way, I was in pain by the end of the survey on Friday.  Since then, I have taken every other day off, hoping that would be sufficient time for my knee to recuperate.  I have also been utilizing a walking stick and brace for extra support to minimize the strain. 

On Tuesday, we began another phase of the project, counting the singing male Aquatic Warblers at dusk, which made for a longer day in combination with our nest searching efforts.  Early on, especially as I hiked over the tangled tussocks, I could tell that my knee would not fair any better that day.  By the end, I could not even feel exhaustion from the strenuous work or hunger, being well past dinnertime; there was only pain.  It was then that I determined to seek medical help, as I would only jeopardize my health and the quality of my data if I continued in this way.

I was accompanied by a staff member to the doctor’s office the next day, and was instructed to not work for at least three days and was prescribed anti-inflammation cream and pain medication.  So far my knee doesn’t feel much improved, although it may take more time after I pushed it to its limit the other day.  It’s uncomfortable to keep it still and straight or to bend it too much or rotate it.  However, it does feel infinitely better to just walk on solid ground.  I sincerely hope that I will heal within a reasonable amount of time, so that I can get back to work!

Appreciation

17 May 2012

Following the intensive trek on Thursday to the site furthest from the road, the journey to the final survey site had to be a cake walk.  While there was still a significant distance to cover, it was far more manageable, of which I was greatly appreciative, commencing the theme for the day.  We marked plot corners with posts and recorded vegetation measurements, as we picked our way through the marshland.  However, the area was fraught with ditches, in which little vegetation grew and the water table extended far below the surface, so that dark, watery abyss patiently awaited its next unsuspecting victim.  This so happened to be me, as I attempted to create a different path across one ditch, since I did not believe that I could match the gait of my companions.  Yet, the distance was still too far, and I either slipped off of the little island of tufted grasses or completely missed my mark.  I quickly began sliding into the abyss, but as water inched above the tops of my waders, the hand of our guide firmly seized my arm and heaved me out, bringing me safely “ashore.”  I took some time to dump the water from my waders, which had filled to the brim, and straighten my drenched socks before continuing on.  I was certainly beginning to recognize the importance of a walking stick for the sake of my safety.

Needless to say, this incident helped me to more fully appreciate the certainty and security of firm, dry land, as we crossed an island of woodland on our journey back towards our vehicles.  As we exited the island, the sun was beginning to set, casting radiant red shadows across the clustered clouds.  Gradually, it peeped out from its hiding place behind the great white puffs to brighten the landscape one final time with its blinding light.  It isn’t very often that one has the opportunity to see a sunset like this, as each one is quite unique.  One co-worker also brought up the fact that few people are privileged enough to work with nature in the way that we are, to be contributing to a project for the greater good of wildlife, and to both live and work in a world-renown national park; yet something else to appreciate.

On the drive back from the site, down the deeply grooved dirt road, wrought large, muddy puddles, the car had enough of this abuse and stalled at the intersection to the main road.  Fortunately, our guide was not far ahead and rang the organization’s auto specialist to assess the situation.  We were perfectly content to wait with our thermos of hot coffee, which was a welcome relief from the cold marsh water.  With a bit of time for the car to dry out and a pull onto the road, it burst back to life, just in time for us to observe a mother fox with her kits crossing the road a ways ahead.  It was supposed that the car was meant to stall, so that we would not miss this beautiful moment in nature’s nightlife.  So much to appreciate!

The Aquatic Warbler Workout

16 May 2012

The second day was far more trying, as it took three to four hours to walk through forest with muddy spots that would eat you alive, a marsh, some more woodlands, another marsh, a small island of trees, and more marshland, just to get to the farthest edge of our farthest plot.  There were times when I felt ready to give up and as if my feet could go no further.  When these “stories” inched their way to the forefront of my mind, I had to pause and breathe, in order to quell the mounting frustration and avoid making the situation worse for myself.  I especially struggled in areas where the vegetation was about half the size of me, trying to lift my legs over it without tripping myself. 

I welcomed the beginning of the survey, as we had to slow down and take our time, so that we might spot females flushing from underneath the layer of plant litter or hear their alarm calls at our approach.  I appreciated having a GPS unit there far more than in a car, since it was so easy to get turned around in an environment with relatively indistinct features, while simultaneously scanning for birds and trying to stay upright, feeling where my feet would fall.  I couldn’t keep a constant eye on the GPS, so almost as soon as I would look away, I would start walking off in a slightly off course.  I think that I tended to head in the direction, in which I was looking.  So, straight lines from point to point on the map didn’t really happen. 

I flushed some birds, but they never came back, so, perhaps there were no nests or they were not females.  The others primarily flushed female Aquatic Warblers, but also did not turn up any nests and one kept hearing alarm calls.  We worked well as a team and finished the site slightly earlier than expected, which was good, as darkness came quickly on this cold, cloudy, rainy day.  It was twilight by the time we reached the car, which we had left about eight hours prior.  We made it home, hung our things to dry, as all of it was damp, cleaned up, wolfed down dinner, and now, everyone, with the exception of me, is fast asleep. 

We get a bit of a lie in tomorrow, so that we might wait out the morning rain showers before trekking to our final survey site.

Marsh Hiking 101

Yesterday was my first semi-official day on the job.  I say semi-official because we took frequent breaks to listen to the harmony of bird songs around us and observe them through binoculars, as they flew overhead, including Marsh Harriers, White-winged Terns, Meadow Pipits, and, of course Aquatic Warblers.  We also did not search specifically for Aquatic Warblers.  Instead, the project leader took us on a trek around one of the large survey sites in the peat marsh of Biebrza National Park, so that we could mark the edges of the plots for future reference. 

It was wonderful to be back out in nature, which built up my anticipation for the start of the field work.  We were surrounded by marsh with occasional patches of trees, unable to see the boardwalk, from which we had come.  Yet, some hills could be seen far off in the distance, which are lit up by the night lights of larger towns.  The project leader advised us to “stay away from the light,” as it is a seven kilometer walk to a river, which one must swim across, in order to get to the towns.  I’m unsure of the total distance covered today, but it was tough going, and I cannot imagine what hiking several kilometers must be like! 

And it did feel quite like hiking, particularly through plots, in which the vegetation is taller and denser with seemingly less standing water.  One really needs to pick up one’s feet!  Yet, there is always a hole some place, where the entangled root systems suddenly disperse and some unfortunate individual loses a leg for a few moments.  It was very challenging to tell the locations of such danger zones in advance, since some areas were small and surrounded by vegetation, seemingly harmless.  Even though, I spent much of my walking time carefully watching where my feet feel, I still managed to locate a few gaps in the plant life.

And I'm Off!

A very quick post today, as I prepare to head off on my next adventure. Following visits to friends in the United Kingdom, I'll be traveling to Poland, specifically Biebrza National Park. I will be volunteering for an organization to collect field data on the threatened Aquatic Warbler, so that their breeding biology and reproductive success may be determined. The data may provide some clues for how to best manage their habitat, so that the population will grow. I will be living remotely within the park with no internet access, except from the field office several miles away, so my blog posts will likely become infrequent. I will try to do the best I can!