4 March 2007
Yesterday was beautiful and sunny, with only a half hour of light rain in the afternoon. A perfect spring day. Today was a regular day meaning RAIN. Rain, rain, rain, and wind. A lot of wind. I’d whip out my umbrella to be Mary Poppins, except I gave up on my umbrella after about 5 minutes into my walk. Umbrellas are pretty much useless against the wind because even if the wind is blowing towards you, your umbrella will flip inside out.
Things I’ve learned about Irish Rain:
1) It is plentiful.
2) It is frequent.
3) Resistance is futile.
4) It is only nasty when it is accompanied by furious winds.
5) It is frequently accompanied by furious winds.
6) Don’t wear khakis in the rain.
But, while the sun is hidden by the rainclouds, allow me to reminisce about yesterday’s sunshine. We went on a walking tour of Dublin, seeing the GPO (general post office) which was a historic site of a political resistance, Trinity College, Parnell Square, the River Liffey, and the Marion St. shopping district. At the end of Marion St, there was a puppeteer with a marionette who was putting on a little show. There are street muscians all over the shopping district of Dublin on a Saturday morning. There are a lot of accordian players, a fiddler or two, and several singers and drummers.
After the tour, Ann, Devin and I decided to pick up a little something to eat at the coffee shop and then picnicked on a bench at St. Stephen’s Green, a beautiful park from the 1870’s just a couple minutes from our hotel. After that it was to the Stephen’s Green Mall where they have everything from a pharmacy to a fabric store. Ann and I then took a walk along the Grand Canal, southwards where we made friends with the aviary denizens of Dublin city.
First, there are pigeons. I am convinced that the pigeons are trying to get me. They chased my foot while I was sitting on the park bench, they flew within a foot or two of my head along the river. They’re pretty much ubiquitous in the city.
Then there are the ducks. I like the ducks. There are several outside our room overlooking the canal. A female and four males. They chase her with such vigor that I was afraid I’d be witness to more duck sex which can be summarized as “Oh darling, I love it when you bite my head like that”… traumatic to say the least. But Ann said the ducks are monogamous, and that it looks like one of the males is trying to protect the female from the other not-so-well-intentioned males, so we named her Guinivere and him Lancelot.
There are a variety of songbirds in Ireland: the little Irish blackbirds that have cute orangey beaks and little orange rings along the outside of their eyes, the tiny European robins with their bright orange faces and chests, and my favorites… the magpies. Magpies are great. They’re like crows, but with longer tails and a white torso. Like robins, magpies can hop along the ground, except they’re so big and ungainly, it always looks like they’re pouncing. They’re so fun to watch and seem like such clever birds!
Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to figure out the name of the fun little black waterfowl that are my most favorite here. They’re great fun, these birds that I’ve taken to calling “jesus birds”. They’ve got thick duck-like bodies, but long yellow legs attatched to great big unwebbed yellow feet. Their black plumage looks very smooth and sleek against their yellow beaks with red turkey-like crests (on the top of their beaks, like a parakeet’s cere.) But the best part is how they move. These poor little fellows swim, but swimming without webbed feet is particularly challenging. The awkard jesus bird lurches through the water and gets tossed about in the currents stirred up by the giant man-eating swans. Poor little birds, thought Ann and I… until we saw the trait that gives the jesus bird its name. When the jesus bird is threatened, it flaps its wings as if to take off in flight from the water, but instead of really flying, it extends it’s long gangly legs and runs across the water. Not just a foot or two. No, the jesus bird we saw in action definitely made it most of the way across the canal. Amazing.
Lastly, there are the swans that look like they could eat a small child. These swans are the biggest swans I’ve ever seen in my life. Ever. They come up to about hip height and their feet must be the size of my hand, if not a little bigger. I wouldn’t want to mess with a swan here, I might lose. But I have tried communicating with them through honking and squawking, which works pretty well. I think of the swans as mafia bosses of the grand canal. They’re big, they’re cranky, they mean business, and if you’re not careful, they’ll be sure you swim with the fishes.
Yesterday was beautiful and sunny, with only a half hour of light rain in the afternoon. A perfect spring day. Today was a regular day meaning RAIN. Rain, rain, rain, and wind. A lot of wind. I’d whip out my umbrella to be Mary Poppins, except I gave up on my umbrella after about 5 minutes into my walk. Umbrellas are pretty much useless against the wind because even if the wind is blowing towards you, your umbrella will flip inside out.
Things I’ve learned about Irish Rain:
1) It is plentiful.
2) It is frequent.
3) Resistance is futile.
4) It is only nasty when it is accompanied by furious winds.
5) It is frequently accompanied by furious winds.
6) Don’t wear khakis in the rain.
But, while the sun is hidden by the rainclouds, allow me to reminisce about yesterday’s sunshine. We went on a walking tour of Dublin, seeing the GPO (general post office) which was a historic site of a political resistance, Trinity College, Parnell Square, the River Liffey, and the Marion St. shopping district. At the end of Marion St, there was a puppeteer with a marionette who was putting on a little show. There are street muscians all over the shopping district of Dublin on a Saturday morning. There are a lot of accordian players, a fiddler or two, and several singers and drummers.
After the tour, Ann, Devin and I decided to pick up a little something to eat at the coffee shop and then picnicked on a bench at St. Stephen’s Green, a beautiful park from the 1870’s just a couple minutes from our hotel. After that it was to the Stephen’s Green Mall where they have everything from a pharmacy to a fabric store. Ann and I then took a walk along the Grand Canal, southwards where we made friends with the aviary denizens of Dublin city.
First, there are pigeons. I am convinced that the pigeons are trying to get me. They chased my foot while I was sitting on the park bench, they flew within a foot or two of my head along the river. They’re pretty much ubiquitous in the city.
Then there are the ducks. I like the ducks. There are several outside our room overlooking the canal. A female and four males. They chase her with such vigor that I was afraid I’d be witness to more duck sex which can be summarized as “Oh darling, I love it when you bite my head like that”… traumatic to say the least. But Ann said the ducks are monogamous, and that it looks like one of the males is trying to protect the female from the other not-so-well-intentioned males, so we named her Guinivere and him Lancelot.
There are a variety of songbirds in Ireland: the little Irish blackbirds that have cute orangey beaks and little orange rings along the outside of their eyes, the tiny European robins with their bright orange faces and chests, and my favorites… the magpies. Magpies are great. They’re like crows, but with longer tails and a white torso. Like robins, magpies can hop along the ground, except they’re so big and ungainly, it always looks like they’re pouncing. They’re so fun to watch and seem like such clever birds!
Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to figure out the name of the fun little black waterfowl that are my most favorite here. They’re great fun, these birds that I’ve taken to calling “jesus birds”. They’ve got thick duck-like bodies, but long yellow legs attatched to great big unwebbed yellow feet. Their black plumage looks very smooth and sleek against their yellow beaks with red turkey-like crests (on the top of their beaks, like a parakeet’s cere.) But the best part is how they move. These poor little fellows swim, but swimming without webbed feet is particularly challenging. The awkard jesus bird lurches through the water and gets tossed about in the currents stirred up by the giant man-eating swans. Poor little birds, thought Ann and I… until we saw the trait that gives the jesus bird its name. When the jesus bird is threatened, it flaps its wings as if to take off in flight from the water, but instead of really flying, it extends it’s long gangly legs and runs across the water. Not just a foot or two. No, the jesus bird we saw in action definitely made it most of the way across the canal. Amazing.
Lastly, there are the swans that look like they could eat a small child. These swans are the biggest swans I’ve ever seen in my life. Ever. They come up to about hip height and their feet must be the size of my hand, if not a little bigger. I wouldn’t want to mess with a swan here, I might lose. But I have tried communicating with them through honking and squawking, which works pretty well. I think of the swans as mafia bosses of the grand canal. They’re big, they’re cranky, they mean business, and if you’re not careful, they’ll be sure you swim with the fishes.
3 comments:
The "Jesus Birds" you refered to are probably a form of Petrels. Their name is from Latin meaning Saint Peter (who walked on water when Jesus called him).
There is an early 20th century ship in Northern Ireland named Petrel. It was the custom of the day to name ships after sea birds.
Love, Dad
The "Jesus Birds" you refered to are probably a form of Petrels. Their name is from Latin meaning Saint Peter (who walked on water when Jesus called him).
There is an early 20th century ship in Northern Ireland named Petrel. It was the custom of the day to name ships after sea birds.
Love, Dad
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