Let's Talk About Raptors

No, not velociraptors.

No, not even philosoraptors.

Let's talk about raptor raptors. You know, birds of prey. You have no idea how many times I have to specify to people when I tell them I work with raptors. "Velociraptors?!" "Yes, velociraptors. Did you know we have a secret velociraptor rehabilitation center in southern Wisconsin?" *sigh* To clarify: raptors are birds of prey that are primarily distinguished from other birds of prey (such as robins) by the fact that they hunt with their talons. Hawks, owls, eagles, and falcons are the primary raptors.

As many of you know, I spent almost three years working at magnificent placed called SANC (the Schlitz Audubon Nature Center). Though I study English literature and creative writing, birds have always been my passion, as many of my friends will already know (I am the “bird nerd” after all). Since moving to England I've desperately missed working with the birds. When my college hosted a Harry Potter themed Hall, they brought live owls to the dinner. Awesome, right?! The birds were from The Raptor Foundation, so I knew I had to make a trip out there. I contacted them about volunteering, and they told me to come visit and talk to the trainers. So I did.

I saw a live flight show, which was pretty awesome I must say. The trainer had a spotted owl on a creance, followed by a free-flown hawk. He put the hawk up on a tower across the field, then went and stood up on another tower. The hawk flew back and forth between the two.

Next he opened one of the mews behind us and a hybrid owl flew out. It was the most relaxed owl I've ever seen in a show. It walked around on the ground and the benches around it, it flew right over them!

It seemed very comfortable with the trainer and vice versa. When it was time for the owl to go back into its mew, the trainer just walked away, leaving the owl sitting on the benches with us. When the owl didn't follow him right away, the trainer called for it, and it took off, flying in between all of the mews until it hopped into its own. Now that's what I call training!

Next the trainer took out a young falcon and he demonstrated how a lure is used in falconry to train the birds. At one point the falcon flew on top of one of the mews. Apparently this is his favorite hangout spot, but usually he's too “chicken” to come down, or so the trainer claimed. :) 

They were training the birds with chick legs, a less messy, though slightly creepier (IMO) version of our rat tidbits. Though I can't decide if having chicken legs hanging out of your pockets is more or less classy than mouse tails. For another time...

Though I enjoyed the show, one element I thought was lacking was their presentation skills. The program didn't seem very organized, and the trainer told us nothing about the bird itself--both it's personal details and about the species. Though it was entertaining, it was seriously lacking an education side. That's one reason why I think SANC's program is so successful: the trainers know their stuff inside and out, and if they don't they're very willing to learn. Education of the public is a major goal in the SANC program and I think it's a very relevant and necessary one.

After the show I wandered around the center looking at their massive collection of non-releasable raptors. It was great being able to see some birds I've never seen before.

I got to talk to the trainers about the way their program works. They have about six times as many birds as SANC but about a third (or less) of the volunteers. I have no idea how they run the place, but they seem to be doing well. I was a little disappointed in their volunteer scheme. A volunteer doesn't get to start handling birds until a few months into the program. 

One of the elements I really appreciated in the SANC raptor program is that you're usually handing a bird on your first or second day working. I think it's a great way for a volunteer to see if she's really bird person. It also works as great encouragement for volunteers to keep coming back. After having so much experience working with birds and also having an incredibly busy schedule, it would be hard for me to justify a one-hour, two-bus trip ride to the center (and that repeated on the way back) if it's months before I get to even hold a kestrel. Still debating volunteering there; we'll have to see...

In other, more relevant news: In September I will be doing a two week internship at Eagles Flying, the Irish Raptor Research Centre in Sligo, Ireland. And, even better, most of the excursion will be covered by a St. John's College travel grant! Success!

I'm really excited about learning about Irish raptor education and training. The Raptor Foundation has showed me that raptor training varies across the pond, and I'm intrigued to learn some new techniques from the Irish. On top of that, I'll be able to work with the birds right away. I can't wait to handle some new birds; I'm hoping I get to hold my first eagle!

I'll have an awesome post up at the end of September about my time at Eagles Flying. In the meantime, I'm counting down the days until I get back to SANC and hang out with my feathered (and non-feathered) friends at the center. 

"It's my birthday!": Mustachios, Caipirinhas, and 24 Hours of Celebration

Talk about a crazy 24 hours! This was the first year I didn't celebrate my birthday at home with family and the usual friends. The different environment put a strange aura around the day, but from top to bottom, my 23^rd birthday was pretty amazing. I got to celebrate it in a gorgeous British city with amazingly fun and brilliant new friends.

It began at the beginning: midnight that is. I joined a handful of friends post-Newnham Garden Party (details on that later) at the Vaults for a birthday cocktail. At midnight they sang to me and I sweet-talked the bartender into giving me a free Vaultini (thanks, William!).

(PS: Please disregard the insanity that is my hair in the above photos. In typical Cambridge fashion, it was raining when we walked there.)

The morning and afternoon were rainy and quiet. I had a solo lunch at my favorite cafe and worked on my novel. Always a relaxing and invigorating time. I met up with a friend and we did some shopping (no luck there) and she joined me for some sugar-packed cinnamon rolls as a post-lunch dessert.

I had a birthday Skype chat with my madre when I got home. It was lovely seeing her face and getting birthday wishes, even if we're thousands of miles away. Huzzah for technology! Then I got ready for my birthday dinner extravaganza.

We went to a nearby restaurant called Las Iguanas, a chain that does nice Latin American-esque food. Quite a few people were able to come out to celebrate, despite other May Week obligations (“I didn't know you had so many friends!” one friend exclaimed. Thanks. Thanks a lot. :) ).

 The atmosphere was perfect. Bright colors, lively food, right on the river. But that was only part of the fun. The best part? One of my friends decided to make this a costume party. As a present to me, she bought all sorts of different props, including fake mustaches. I got the birthday crown and the rest of my obliging guests donned pirate jewelry, devil horns, animal masks, and, of course, outrageous fake mustaches. 

Some of the guys actually looked really natural in theirs. Me? Not so much. So I gave it to my wine glass instead.

The food was delicious. One food item I sorely miss in the UK is good Mexican or Cuban food. I ordered build-your-own fajitas. Amazing, amazing. For dessert my friend and I shared a peanut and carmel brownie sundae. Happy birthday to me indeed!

Then suddenly the waitress came over with a...birthday cocktail? I was terribly amused by the caipirinha she set down in front of me which sported a lit candle stuck into a lime wedge. You know you're in your 20s when the waitress doesn't bring you birthday cake, but a birthday cocktail.

We moved on to a very massive, very classy (so classy they made me take off my fake tiara before being let in...clearly they don't know the meaning of class!) cocktail bar called Baroosh (not to be mistaken with Ta Bouche next door (this caused confusion for all of us)). I got some very fancy-shmancy cocktails with fancy-shmancy names like “rumberlina” and “the queen of 'b'”.

Afterwards my mean friends convinced me to go to a very grungy bar/club called Wetherspoons. Though I grumbled a bit, I did enjoy bustin' my moves on the dance floor. The end of the night brought me to the Trailer of Life where I ordered my favorite burger in all of Cambridge. Probably a thousand calories per burger, but I didn't care. I just said (as is the catchphrase for all my friends' birthdays in Cambridge) “It's my birthday!” and when you say that, you can get away with anything.

Hey, I know my birthday's over, but it would be a really great present to me if you left a comment below. Who wore the best mustache? What's your best birthday memory? And what have YOU gotten away with just by saying, "It's my birthday!"?

Captains of "The Dauntless"

Hello, dear reader. Today I'm going to tell you about punting. For those of you who don't know, a punt is a flat-bottomed boat that is propelled through (shallow) water by a long pole (boating in a punt is called punting; the person propelling the boat is a punter). Since a really awesome river winds its way through Cambridge, it's not surprising that punting is one of the city's major tourist attractions, and one of the best ways for students to relax on a warm day. I'm fortunate enough to go to a wealthy college, so we have our own fleet of punts with awesome names, like Sulphur. But they day my friends and I decided to go punting, we ended up with The Dauntless. Awesome, right?

Experienced punters (like ourselves) know that to have a proper punting trip, one needs a few things: a.) a boatie hat (see photos), b.) nibbles (we brought cheese, bread, and grapes), and c.) drinks (wine and cider were our choices). We were the envy of many other punts that we passed who watched us lounging in the punt, sipping wine and wished they would have thought to bring something to drink. Tsk, tsk. Amateurs. 

We all took turns punting, and once Mark showed me the proper technique, I really got a hang of it. It's easy once you know what to do and if you have a strong arm and a good sense of balance, you can stand up there for ages (not quite as fun, though, as eating cheese and drinking cider inside the punt...). 

But there definitely is a technique to it. Here's what I've gathered: push the pole all the way down until it touches the riverbed and use that to propel the punt forward (at this point your hands should be at the top of the pole), then pull the pole out a bit, but use it to steer the boat and keep it centered on the river. Sounds easy, right? It is after a little bit. But even if you get the hang of it, there are still accidents. Below Mark demonstrates HOW to punt and Sophie demonstrates how NOT to punt.

I punted us all the way from Darwin College (where Mark hopped off to deliver a letter...we're like a floating mail service!) to Mill Pond and then turned us around (a bit tricky, but I managed). It was actually miraculously warm outside when this was going on (you can clearly see I'm not dressed for rain and wind) we got to soak up some sun (or get terrible sunburn, if you're me). 

Really, though, punting is one of the best and most unique ways to see a different part of Cambridge. We got to past by the backs of a lot of colleges, we got to see a lot of the major college bridges that pass over the Cam, we even got to see the newly hatched John's cygnets (they're actually nesting between Magdalene and John's, so I guess they're shared cygnets).

If any of my dear (non-Cambridge) readers come to to visit me, we will definitely have to go punting, now that I'm an expert at it. And by expert I mean I haven't fallen in yet.

PS: I would like to thank Sophie for some of these lovely pictures. I also want to point out that Sophie is a magnificent punter and the above photograph of Sophie vs. Weeping Willow does not do her punting skills justice. :)