Avian Demography Unit
Department of Statistical Sciences
University of Cape Town
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The Pelican Brief, Part 2: Escape of the Beasties

Story & Photographs by Marienne de Villiers
(Poetical inserts by Robbie Burns, with apologies for the occasional paraphrasings)

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie! 
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle! 
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, 
Wi' murd'ring pattle! 
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beasties


"Laith to rin an' chase" but sometimes in the name of Science and Knowledge we must sacrifice our finer feelings and in this case, at least, there was no question of attack with “murd’ring pattle”: the Pelican Hunt was on!

It was the 22nd of November, and the capture team on Dassen Island clustered around the map. The Island Manager, pointer in hand, indicated: "Here's Boom Point, and the wreck of the Namaqua. That's the site of the Pelican colony we are after. The big rock near the centre of the point is about here.  That's where we'll set up the capture pen. This is the plan…"

It was a repeat of the procedure followed so successfully in January on Dassen Island, when 100 Pelican chicks were banded. Two teams, heading around opposite sides of the point, would corner the chicks and then herd them towards the capture pen. But the 2-dimensional map could not illustrate certain logistical details that made this roundup somewhat different from the previous one. The colony was at a different site, it was low tide and the wet rocks along the coast were as slippery as ice. The Pelican chicks were somewhat older this time and tended to become quite skittish upon espying anything out of the ordinary. Also, there were Kelp Gull nests dotted all over the island and guarded by insanely protective gull parents, so that a calm, unheralded approach was out of the question. 


        Pelican colony at the wreck of the Namaqua                          Attack by insanely protective Kelp Gull 

But, Peli, thou art no thy lane, 
In proving foresight may be vain; 
The best-laid schemes o' birds an 'men 
Gang aft agley, 
An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, 
For promis'd joy!

The team assembled at the Big Rock and the subgroups dispersed to their various tasks, VHF radios enabling efficient co-ordination of activities (when the radio operators remembered to transmit on the correct channel, that is). With stealth worthy of a submerged seal stalking an unwary gannet, the herding teams hugged the coast and began to drive the not-so-wee but reasonably tim’rous beasties up from the rocks towards the capture pen. Injuries were sustained (human, not avian). Curses filled the air. Escape was the order of the day. Hordes of confused chicks galumphed (to borrow from Edward Lear this time) their way between the sparsely distributed humans and found themselves free once more. Some discovered the hitherto unknown function of those puzzling feathery appendages and took to the skies. A few, finally trapped in the capture pen, rushed the fence en masse and made their bid for freedom. But not all managed to flee, and rugby tackles worthy of our national rugby squad downed a few attempted escapees. Jewellery was fitted (metal bands for individual identification; red Canada bands for this years’ cohort), and the accosted birds were set free once more. Despite disappointment at the small number of birds banded, there was a certain pleasing mathematical symmetry in the final tally: 16 birds for 16 humans.


I'm truly sorry man's dominion, 
Has broken nature's social union, 
An' justifies that ill opinion, 
Which makes thee startle 
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, 
An' fellow-mortal! 

But the day was not over yet. Making the most of the glorious weather, the team retired to the old guano scrapers’ quarters to braai wors and feast and make merry. The lift back to the mainland aboard Marine and Coastal Management’s “Sardinops”  provided one final reminder as to why we love our work: lithe heaviside’s dolphins weaving a silvery, watery web around  the bow of the vessel.


                                 The Wors-Braai                                                   "Weaving a silvery, watery web"
 

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Western Cape Nature Conservation for permission to work on Dassen Island, and to Johan Visagie for his hospitality. Also, sincere thanks to Earthwatch for sponsoring the video camera used to capture the images illustrating this article, and used in the course of the project on the effects of human disturbance on seabirds.
 
 


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Document posted 9-December-2002