Thus I think I just have to adapt my style and do sketches of what's going on around here. Here it goes - a week in review sketchy sketch skoos.
My teenage weed-whacking dream was realized strimming the Camp clearing. I have wanted to cut grass this way ever since I saw the machine in use at summer camp back in Canadia. The idea of being able to hold it just suspended above the ground, making it look effortless, appealed to me. What a power trip! And those kevlar pants will never go out of style. Now I think I am ready for a crash course in the chainsaw maneuverings. 
weed whacker
Finally spotting the Macchabe skink after months spent rolling around on the forest floor right on top of it. Unfortunately, it dropped its tail at the sight of me. Oy. The abandoned tail wriggled and squirmed for 10 minutes diverting my attention from the escaping lizard. Darn. The tail looked like a little bait fish out of water! I was so confused, and mesmerized by it. So weird. If this tail dropping on demand isn't the best example of an anti-predation adaptation I don't know what is. Evolution rocks.
I met two more people who rub shoulders with Sir David Attenborough (aka The Sexiest Man Alive). They were filming our Echos at Camp for a new BBC nature show called "Miracle Babies" (to be released in early 2011). Can you say 6 degrees of separation?! It seems that I keep getting closer and closer to actually locking eyes with this legend myself. I wonder if Kevin Bacon has ever been in a wildlife documentary with Sir David? Hmm...
bbc
I am a baker, again. Exquisite orgasmic choux pastry cream puffs were successfully baked, assembled and devoured at the weekend house. I think making only one profiterole per person is ideal: it keeps them always wanting more... Putty in my hands! Hardy har har!!
kat

ewa and rich

rich
Calling in my first "dead" motorbike rescue on my descent of Chamerelle Road, the most curvaceous passage down a mountain side in the southern hemisphere. Turns out I was just out of gas...and all I had to do was use the fuel reserve...oops. Now I know for next time I lose the ability to accelerate.
Loads more of Echo chicks hatched and banded in the tree tops. Now all the wiener dog names I have been collecting over the years will get applied to my baby parrots. There goes Buffy and Spike!!
ewa up a tree

chick banding

ewa the bander
That's my week. Before I sign off for the week I wanted to wish my dad and my 3 year old twin nephews, Mitch and Jake, very very happy birfdays on Tuesday. I shall be thinking of you guys and perhaps even enjoying some cake in your honour.

echo cafeteria
A sketchy sketch skoo remains copyright of the author wherewa, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.
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]]>Eight minutes past midnight. I've just come back from Kenzie, my favourite bar in all of Mauritius. This watering hole is kinda like Jane Bond in uptown Waterloo back in Canadia. It's a cozy artsy fartsy place with zebra striped tables and tree stump stools planted on a fine gravel floor. There is funky live music to match the decorum. Over some head-spin inducing cigarettes and a tall glass of coke I got to chatting about the point of it all. Yes, another one of those vital conversations you can only have at a bar and then forget the fine details of by morning. The difference this time is that I wasn't drinking, meaning that the magic of the discussion is not completely lost on me just yet. Or maybe it is fading already...
Loosely the big question on my mind and lips was "Why am I here?"
At the end of last season, following a short but thrilling ride on the back of a bike, I found myself in the gorges on the bank of the Black River. As I sat and waited for some friends to join me for a hike, it dawned on me that nearly everything I was looking at around me was, like myself, not a native Mauritian. The plants and animals were the ex-pats of the natural world: trees from Australia, mynahs from India, fodies from Madagascar, guava from China. That struck me as absolutely astounding. The scale of the exotic invasion became crystal clear to me in that moment. I had been taught that such an ecological scenario is a "bad" one. The natives are under attack, and without intervention they will eventually lose. It was then and there that I decided I to learn more about how a small island functions ecologically in spite of invasions by waves of unwelcome beasts. I saw Mau as a living laboratory; one possible outcome of the ecological future on the continents. I chose to come back to get to know its predicament better.
So you see, my reason to come back and work here is purely selfish: I want to learn about ecosystems in their perpetual state of change. I didn't want to come back to "save" anything. I don't really think that conservationists really are saving wildlife. It's a romantic label that's bestowed upon us by others. Plus it's a nice marketing blurb. The reality is greatly more complex.
.....and then I ran out of steam....
Passionate about reason remains copyright of the author wherewa, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.
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]]>With promises of a home-baked apple pie, Tara (this year's New Noah), alerted me of the imminent Thanksgiving holiday. I recall staying up late last October nuking 20 kg of millet for hours while reflecting on all the bliss and growth spurts that flavoured my life up to that point. Another year has gone by rather quickly and life still tastes sweet and spicy to me, like a good chai masala made form scratch. Yum.
I think it is important to take time to mark the little and the grand things that cumulatively cultivate growth. For Thanksgiving I wish you a few moments to think back over your year and smile at the things that stretched or nurtured you and filled your happy tank. Such thoughts will foster more of the same.
I am grateful for all the love that touches my life everyday, delivered by friends, family, green parrots, a red motorbike and a gang of sperm whales. And I am so glad I no longer need a traditional bed to feel at home and safe in.
Grow on!!

Growing on remains copyright of the author wherewa, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.
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]]>The other day I was riding Reddy, my red hot motorized two wheeled stallion, down the sinuous national park road when I felt a big smile crowding my face in the helmet. A subliminal smile such as that, just like snorting when I'm laughing, is a genuine indication of pure unadulterated happiness. I had lots to smile about: there I was commuting to a day's worth of Echo nesting sites, looking out past sawtoothed mountain peaks to the sea, feeling like I wouldn't change a thing about my life. That is a quality moment.
So what exactly is Echo work all about? Well in order to appreciate the job one needs to hear the Echo parakeet's story. Here goes my version... Echos (Psittacula eques), the masters of forest camouflage, are feathered with a palate of green hues: lime, sweet pea, broccoli and a touch of aquamarine kale. At three years of age sexually mature males develop attractive red beaks and black rings around their necks with a hint of blue and pink on the nape. Emerald green females have plain black beaks and an almost undetectable pencil thin necklet. This get up makes for very classy looking birds. I find their chubby cheeks, fat tongues and nasal duck like squeaks and whimpers endearing. I suppose that the fact they use their big noses as a third foot is also winning.

An Echo pair, Bagel and a shy Mafuta, patiently waiting for me to finish up an egg check up their nest box.
As far as we know Echos were common on Mauritius until the 1800s when they began to decline along with the forests. That tendency to rarity resulted in fewer than 20 wild birds by 1986. And a postage stamp sized native forest is all that's left now, relatively speaking. The shrinking native forests are continually reorganized by more vigorous floral exotics hailing from the continents where they have perfected the art of competition and survival. Similarly native animals are duking it out with an ark of introduced hairy milk-drinking beasts (a.k.a. mammals) with a taste for eggs (rats, pigs, monkeys, cats, mongoose, etc.) together with the beaked cavity-dwelling variety like Ring-necked parakeets and Mynahs. So with their home base shrinking and unwelcome guests moving in on all fronts you can understand why the ecologically less confrontational Echos got pushed out - well nearly pushed out.
Echo conservation efforts got serious in 1987 with the intention of increasing the Echo population. Over the years field techniques have been layered finessing the perpetual fight against predators and competitors and boosting Echo's reproductive success with nest rescues, chick fostering, and supplying nest boxes. For the past month just on the brink of the breeding season I have been preparing cavities and nest boxes for their feathered tenants making the trees unappealing to other critters. The Echo Team has been rat proofing the nest trees by wrapping the trunks in sheets of slippery black plastic to prevent rats from climbing up to the nest. Poison is also put out at the base of the tree to keep the rat numbers at bay.

Echo 1 a.k.a. Mike the tree tailor.
Years of trial and error have shaped the nest boxes into efficient Echo generators. Check it out! The wooden nest boxes are quite tall with an access hole at the top and the nest lined with wood shavings at the bottom. The Echos mamas get in and out through the top and Echo workers access the nest through a special hinged door near the base. The depth of the faux cavities ensures that sticky little monkey fingers can't reach any eggs and that White Tailed Tropic Birds (my fave Round Island birds who sat on my head last season) who compete with Echos for cavities, don't set up shop. The boxes are mounted on metal or faux wood brackets which are then screwed into the tree. This keeps termites off since they won't tread on anything other than wood! Who knew!? This season to discourage honeybees from building hives inside the boxes we have added another ingenuity layer to the box design. Someone told us that bees won't hang honeycombs from a smooth surface so we stapled a piece of plastic rat guard sheet to the ceiling to force them to keep looking elsewhere. The new feature seems to be anti-bee alright but we still have to evict hoards of scary wasps. I never imagined I'd be dangling out of trees donning a bee suit armed with a bee smoker. Surreal!
The nesting sites are scattered around the Black River Gorges National Park. Some are nest boxes and a few are in natural cavities. Many of the trees are enormous things resembling Ents from Lord of the Rings. They are ambassadors from a different time. No one is sure of how old they are since trees in the tropics don't have growth rings but those giants must be a couple years old at least. There aren't many of them left around poking thorough the guava thicket that blankets the gorges. The views from them are dramatic: waterfalls, rivers, cliffs, the ocean, and a kaleidoscope of green. One of my faves is at a nest site called Trivial Pursuit.

The tree climbing system is pretty ingenious too, if I may say so. Instead of dragging an extension ladder around the jungle to access nests the way I did when I worked on flying squirrels in Canada, we use ropes to access the Echo sites. A lead nylon string is catapulted over a sturdy branch or tree fork and a climbing rope is pulled up in its place. One end of the rope is tied on to an anchor point and the Echo worker shimmies up the other end with the help of two jumars. To come down to earth we abseil like some kind of a FBI special secret service unit. It may all sound a bit confusing but once you get the hang of it it's really quite simple. Much sexier than carrying a ladder down into the gorges!

Mike abseiling down from Two Brothers cavity after checking for eggs.
The Echos were impressed with all our laborious preparations and have taken up residency in most of the boxes and natural cavities, 60-some out of a possible 100. The last two weeks I have been sneaking up to nests to check for eggage when the females dashed out for a quick feed provisioned by their attentive males. The idea is to cause as little disturbance to the birds as possible so we do a lot of watching and waiting for birds to leave the nest sites before we check things out up close. There were many indications that eggs were on the way. At first there were little bowl shaped depressions in the shavings where a bird got cozy. Then bits of down began appearing. This went on for a few weeks until finally on Friday I got eggage action to write home about.
Eggs are odd things. I mean why would you make a baby, package it up in a shell, poop it out, and then spend weeks sitting on it!? Why not just cook the thing inside you and pop it out when its good and done? Seems a bit bizarre really, but I suppose that life has evolved lots of interesting strategies to replicate itself.

A nest in a cavity pre-eggage action.
Hopefully this season will be a productive one for the green dudes and the population will expand a smidgen more. Currently the population is estimated between 288 and 431 birds depending on which counting technique you go by. Either way it is an amazing improvement over 20 birds some 30 years ago. But there are always surprises and complications along the conservation path. Over the last decade a viral disease called Parrot Beak and Feather Disease (PBFD) has been hitting the population hard. The young appear to be most susceptible with juvenile fatality sitting at 50%. Research is being carried out to understand what's going on and what the management implications will be.
The Echo Team is responsible for doing everything possible to encourage the Echo population to continue growing. Our over all mission is "More Echos" with lots to be learned along the way. But to be honest, sometimes all this conservation work seems like nothing more than a band aid with the real problems being far removed from the forests and mountain peaks. The bigger problems are rooted in our value systems and habits. Understanding that I recognize that if no one is providing emergency care to animals like the Echo parakeet while someone else is addressing the broader issues, then surely the Echos will just bleep off the screen. It takes a lot more than climbing trees and feeding birds to save them with room for many to partake.

Echo Team: Aurelie, Tom (visiting Echo worker), Mike, Ewa and Heather our fearless coordinator.
A depression, then some down and finally eggs remains copyright of the author wherewa, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.
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To give the Olive families a fighting chance field biologists step in to tip the scale in their favour. Actually it's more like a race to see who gets the Olive eggs first: the biologist or the biology?? Daily biologists or Olive Workers as they are known in the industry, comb the forests in search of nests and freshly laid eggs. It's a good thing that the Olives are noisy birds otherwise the camouflaged tennis ball-sized nests would never be spotted. Once eggagge (another industry term) is suspected a "nest rescue" is planned. The idea is that the nest is accessed, the eggs taken to be incubated, hatched and the birdies hand reared in captivity. Heavily trained human foster parents, some of whom are imported from zoos in the UK, are on call to feed the rescued chicks every hour around the clock. The babes are fed papaya, cricket guts, bee larvae and/or mushed up mice combined in nectar (the oddest Olive stuffing imaginable, I know). Then the fledged birds are released on an island free of rats and cats and similar Olive consumers.

Sounds neat and simple, eh? Well it's not. Just accessing the nest can be a gargantuan task in itself. Olives like to build nest on the tips of branches suspended above dark gulleys and raging rivers. The nest trees themselves are often either incredibly tall and humanly unreachable or growing on near vertical mud slicked slopes. So who you gonna call to help access them nests?? The gravity defying Echo Team of course.

On the way to Monday's nest rescue I was joking that we were really just going to kidnap the eggs leaving some poor bereaved parents in our wake. I thought it funny that we called our assignment a "rescue" when really it was a Monday morning abduction or egg harvest. That was until we got to the site and found 3 rats dead in the traps that were set to protect the nest over the weekend. Three rats and one of them was caught up the tree! Unbelievable. Then and there I understood that the jungle, crawling with tonnes of invasive species, is literally a war zone. Those Olive parents need us to give their kids a fighting chance. Crazy but that's conservation work for ya.

It took the Echo Team hours to negotiate the spindly tree perched on the side of a mud slide. The branch supporting the little nest had to be cut off mid air and the eggs retrieved without moving, shaking nor dropping them. An impossible task believe me. But the Echo Team works magic and the nest was accessed safely. So you would understand why we were all gutted to find the nest cold and empty. The little blue M&M candy sized eggs must have been pillaged by a rat probably just the previous night. The Olive rescue had failed. We got there too late. And in case you are asking why didn't we just go a day sooner, well the eggs can't be rescued too early since they are too delicate to handle. They need to be between 5-8 days old before they can withstand the traumatic trip to the captive breeding facility. The rats may have won that race but the marathon ain't over.
So on Monday I had a perspective adjustment. I get the true sense of urgency that we are up against. I also realized that I am enjoying being back and working in Mauritius even more than I did last season, which I didn't think was possible. The difference this season is that I am a part of a quality marathon team instead of running mostly on my own.

What some call a kidnapping we call a rescue remains copyright of the author wherewa, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.
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Actually I feel the sudden urge to join the crowd on the roof top. Be right back!
Ahhh. That was nice. Now where was I? Telling you about the 20 meter high I guess.
So last week we started conducting checks of all the known Echo nesting sites in the national park. I've already seen parrot flirtations and copulations in the tree tops so I know eggs are about to star popping up. One of the sites is a massive tree called "Cutler's Cove". Virtually all the Echos nest in baptized trees outfitted with nest boxes or natural cavities. The gorgeous cavity at Cutler's is our climbing apex which sits some 20 scenic meters above ground. If you can get your butt up there (without pooping your pAnts) you can get it up anywhere! Thus, on an unusually sunny afternoon I did the guava slalom down into the gorges to check on Cutler's where I laid complete claim to my tree climbing legs (without poop). Oh, you'll never guess who I saw all the way up there. No, not Echo eggs but a scorpion! Hahahahaha. Yeah, it fled into the empty cavity instead of staging a confrontation, thank goodness. Anyway, it feels magnificent to haul myself above the forest canopy and just hang out with trees. I'm so glad I have gotten over my fear of heights and learned to trust my equipment.


It's almost midnight and i still have more to share but I gotta get to sleep. Bonne nuit, sweet dreams ya'll...

Twenty meter high remains copyright of the author wherewa, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.
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The neat thing about being back in Paradise Lost is that the anxiety of arriving in a strange place, the worry that someone is going to harass you, rip you off, stare at you or do something uncomfortable like that, well that feeling is gone. My guard is down. I feel myself happily surrendering to the Mauritian pace of life once again. I am at home. I am however, disturbed that I kind of forgot how wonder struck I get from seeing the brightly coloured houses and radiant saris dazzling against the constant tropical green-blue backsplash. I even forgot all about the stunning night sky out here speckled with gazillions of stars. Let this be a warning to me that temporarily re-assimilating to a western life, even for just 5 months, is enough time to to rob me of the consciousness that life is different someplace else. Anyway, it's a good thing I got to come back to be reminded of the beauty of this place and to experience it all anew. Even though Mauritius is paradise that has been lost through few centuries of environmental exploitation there are many cool things about it still. I am here to uncover them all.

I have made a new home at "Camp" my field station perched on a forest mountain ridge in Black River Gorges National Park. I live there from Mondays to Saturdays while I chase after Echos in the forest. On the weekends I come down to the MWF House by the sea to shower, go on-line and do my laundry (in that order). Anyway, while at Camp a romantic little hut built with Guava* sticks, string, pieces of corrugated tin and a massive plastic tarp are my private sleeping quarters. I was thrilled to discover that my new home comes with a real floor, a rustic wooden-boards-and-nails floor instead of the gravel substrate I expected! This is a big deal folks. Equally exciting is the fancy queen size spring mattress rather than the standard flattened 4 inch foam bed I feared. This jungle set up promises more comfortable sleeps than the urbane one I had back in my lovely summer Gu Town cave. How luck am I, eh? I revere my hut!!
My first week slugging it on the Echo Parakeet Team (AKA Echo Team) was chock full of crowning moments: rope climbing trees in the rain forest, driving jeeps on unforgiving dirt tracts, stretching my motorcycling legs on a Yamaha 125 dirt bike, exterminating wasps from a parrot's nest box while dangling from a tree in a bee suit, sculpting my thighs while using them to envelop tree trunks I clung onto for dear life, brachiating like some kind of a ground Gibbon down slick muddy trails and doing the Guava slalom on my extreme descents to the bottom of the Gorges. All of these firsts may sound impressive but the most memorable climax was realizing I had neglected to bring any underwear for the week, except for the pair I was already enjoying of course. The thought of daily direct skin-to-mud-encrusted-trousers contact ruled out the comando fashion trend appeal. Normally such basic attire negligence wouldn't be a big deal, but when your undies get waterlogged you look forward to putting on a clean dry pair, and if you can't get clean ones, dry ones are the next best thing. Personally I dread having to slip into wet underpants first thing in the morning. Eek!! The perpetually damp conditions at Camp last week made drying anything impossible. Apparently it rains here a lot so there will be no escaping the rain with me! So since the dry nickers option was out I opted for clean. I washed my undergarment and hung it in the hut to dehydrate overnight. In the morning I draped it over a candle and warmed it up to body temperature, nearly burning my only pair! Today I am happy to report that stepping into a pair of wet 'n' warm underwear everyday is actually rather pleasant, given the alternatives that is.

Oh, before I sign off I have something cool and mood enhancing to share with you all. My newest skill acquisition involves learning how to properly consume a Tim Tam (small chocolate waffles) with my tea. I believe this is known as the Tim Tam Slam (Douglas you can find out more at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tim_Tam_Slam). I would like you all to try this, please. I hear you can pick up a packet of these Aussie delicacies at Zehr's (if you are in Ontario) or at any well stocked cookie provider. Bite off a tiny piece of two diagonally opposite corners on the waffle. Dip one end into your tea and suck through the other as if using a straw. The instant you feel tea on your tongue pop the whole wafer into your mouth. Slowly chew and savor all sensations. Having experienced this marvel I am tempted to suck tea and/or cuoffee through all chocolate coated wafers. My world has been altered...
My hut has a floor (exclamation mark!) remains copyright of the author wherewa, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.
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]]>In just a couple of dizzy weeks I shall leave my cozy cave home and the voluminous summer rains of Ontario for the sun baked shores of a tropical island. Yes, I am going back to Mauritius! Most of you already know that this tiny isle crests in the Indian Ocean just east of Madagascar and continental Africa. And by now you've probably all heard of the extinct Dodo bird that once called Mauritius home. Well for the next 8 months so will I - again!
What am I up to this time? I got myself a contract to work with the charming fluorescent green Echo Parakeet. My days of killing sparrows are over (pfew!) and instead I'm progressing to more life giving conservation activities (with a few exceptions).

The job specs thus far are:
1. live in a rustic field station (preferably in a tin shack)
2. sleep under a mosquito net (how romantic!)
3. enjoy daily cuoffee in an outdoor field cafe
4. ride motorbike on muddy forest tracks
5. pull oneself waaay up into trees
6. ensure that every Echo egg "makes it"
7. meet mind-altering people
8. ask tough questions to resolve scientific controversy
9. deal gracefully with the unpredictable
If that isn't the world's best job description then you can call me Larry!
I confess: adventure blogging gives me the highest high (out done only by the high form making people snort silly from laughter), thus I would be thrilled if you joined me for the recounting of the tales that emerge. Sign up to receive email alerts when I post new stories or to be my "friend" here on Travellerspoint. It's just too easy! And please don't be shy to share your own exciting updates with me via this blog, email, Skype or snail mail. I invite you to Return to Paradise Lost with me... Let's escape this rain together!
And for your communicating pleasure here is my personal contact info buffet:
E-mail: cardamomjar@hotmail.com
Skype: agent_awe
Snail Mail: Ewa Wherewa, MWF House, Black River, Mauritius, Indian Ocean (if you wish to send packages please declare the contents as "used goods" or "gift" otherwise the pick up fees will be ouchy)
Let's escape the rain together remains copyright of the author wherewa, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.
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