Salt pan stopover

Seriously special sandpipers:

In March 2014, Flightpathproject visited the salt pans of Pak Thale in Thailand, to look for – and find! – the critically endangered Spoon-billed sandpiper: see https://flightpathproject.wordpress.com/2014/03/07/seriously-special-sandpipers/

Pak Thale is a vital staging ground on the sandpipers’ way to breed in Kamchatka, in the far east of Russia.

Image at wikipedia.com

Protection for the salt pans:

By the end of 2016, the Bird Conservation Society of Thailand is hoping to buy, manage and  conserve the threatened salt pans for spoonies – and for the hundreds of thousands of other shorebirds – that use Pak Thale annually.

For more about the project see http://www.bcst.or.th/?page_id=4755&lang=en

 

index

Home away from home:

After a long flightpath – from Russia via London Heathrow to Gloucestershire, England – watch Spoon-billed sandpiper chicks hatch at Slimbridge Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust http://www.wwt.org.uk

 

Flightless flightpath

Happy feat

Rockhopper and Snares crested penguins cover 15,000km during a six-month stint at sea

 

s rockhopperSouthern Rockhopper Penguin

Mapping the marathon

A map showing where the rockhopper and Snares penguins travelled

More at http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=11692473 and http://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-news-from-elsewhere-37058422

Magellanic Penguin

Neither clown nor child nor black
nor white but verticle
and a questioning innocence
dressed in night and snow:
The mother smiles at the sailor,
the fisherman at the astronaunt,
but the child child does not smile
when he looks at the bird child,
and from the disorderly ocean
the immaculate passenger
emerges in snowy mourning.

I was without doubt the child bird
there in the cold archipelagoes
when it looked at me with its eyes,
with its ancient ocean eyes:
it had neither arms nor wings
but hard little oars
on its sides:
it was as old as the salt;
the age of moving water,
and it looked at me from its age:
since then I know I do not exist;
I am a worm in the sand.

the reasons for my respect
remained in the sand:
the religious bird
did not need to fly,
did not need to sing,
and through its form was visible
its wild soul bled salt:
as if a vein from the bitter sea
had been broken.

Penguin, static traveler,
deliberate priest of the cold,
I salute your vertical salt
and envy your plumed pride.

by Pablo Neruda

Another southern marathon

march

http://www.nationalgeographic.com/marchofthepenguins/