Gonzo Birding and Gonzo Geezer

Let me define Gonzo Birding. It is birding in an extreme and or, unconventional way. It is appreciating birds at a level, and in ways that may be different from, and certainly regardless of, other people and birders.  

Gonzo Birding is whatever one wants out of birding for themselves. It's putting one's own brand of weird in their birding. In short: It is allowing your own, authentic weird to flow into your birding however that can work for you.

The official Gonzo Geezer cardigan. I have owned this wonderful sweater for over 30 years. It is a heavy, cotton, shawl-neck cardigan. I added this photo today on 1 May because it is the Gonzo Geezer sweater (for me anyway- all things gonzo are our own).

Screen cap from inside first pages of MABT

Gonzo Birding is a thing whether you know it or not... it's actually more of a thing if you don't know it. This is the Gonzo Birding paradox.

Understand? Then you don’t. Gonzo Birding is like quantum physics or the Tao. If you think you know it, you don’t. I came up with it and I don’t know and therefore I do. As I said, this is the Gonzo Birder Paradox. 

Gonzo Birding in the Pyrenees, Catalonia 2011

Richard Baxter's shot of me on Christmas Island December 2022 definitely Gonzo.

I am also learning to embrace my Gonzo Geezer because I am one full-stop. In the opening pages of my second book, I quoted Hunter S Thompson’s, “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” And I wrote: “When the going gets weird, the weird go birding.” It is what I have done and continue to do. I am even weirder than any of you know and I have let y’all know a lot about my weird. Yes, my weird is a noun. 

This morning I shared a meme that said, “You don’t become cooler with age, but you care progressively less about being cool, which is the only true way of being cool. This is called the Geezer’s Paradox.” 

Stolen from the internet

I dig the word, “Geezer” because it is a time in my life when it is essential that I do. I am beginning to accept, understand and live being old better. I am only beginning, because as with all things, it is a process. It’s the journey, not the destination. These old truths remain true. There’s that word, “old”. Hunter Thompson was 67 when he made his exit from this earthly plane. Well played Hunter. He was finished and he knew it and left. I do not begrudge anyone their exit. If it is their choice it is their choice. 

Gonzo Geezer Granddaddy being shown his nose

Speaking of exits, I am going to continue writing about this today and in the future, but I am stopping at this point to share these words on my blog. There will be additional words about this, and possible edits and additions to this post (I just did).

And here is the t-shirt from BRDR MRCH on Redbubble GONZO BRDR  

I am also more excited about writing than I have been in a while. 

Sending love as I do ❤️

American Golden Plover ~ Gonzo Birder

American Golden Plover yawning with its tongue out

On Thursday, 18 April I had checked into St John of God hospital for a surgical procedure. I spent the first fifty or so years of my life without having any procedures. Those were the days. 

This was not a ‘big’ procedure, but it required general anaesthesia. They told me it went well and that I did not need a hospital sleepover. I was back home in the early evening, feeling pleasantly dopey, but experiencing some discomfort (i.e. pain). Nothing unexpected. It was time to rest and recover. I had a quiet night.

Friday morning I was up for a while, but went back to bed, and to sleep, before noon. Around 3pm I woke up enough to notice I had a message from James. I rang him and I learned that there was an American Golden Plover being reported at the Borrow Pit in the WTP only two hours ago. It would be an Aussie Lifer for me. I had to go. I mean seriously, I had no choice.

I grabbed my bins and my new/old camera, and dashed out the door (dashed is subjective). At the Avalon Airport exit, I realised I had forgotten my key to the WTP. I drove back to the house.

Regardless of this maddening detour, I was at the Borrow Pits looking at the beautiful American Golden Plover just after 4pm. Joy! A totally unexpected Lifer twenty-four hours out of hospital. Gonzo Birding. That is new phrase that I may begin using. It fits my birding in a lot of ways. Maybe I am the Gonzo Birder. Here are my first Aussie Lifer looks at the AGP at the WTP.

Other birders were there and as the word got out, more birders came. Some left work early in Melbourne and hurried down. This was an opportunity to see the first American Golden Plover in breeding plumage seen in Australia, thus making for very positive identification. Identification of an American Golden Plover without any drama. And believe me, there can be a lot of drama in non-breeding bird identification. 

I am also an American (expat) in Australia but I am certainly not in breeding plumage. And at this point it is highly unlikely that I ever will be again, haha.& I took a few recording shots with my new/old camera and was driving home after about 15 minutes. A mega twitch done and dusted. 

Except that James had not seen the bird.

The next morning at 9:18am, I collected him at the Lara Station and we dashed over. And dash we did. Soon he was looking at the bird with quite a few other birders. We hadn’t had a ‘mega’ at the WTP since the Black Tern a year ago. And one of the best parts of a twitch was in full swing. It is the feeling that I call Lifer High. People were smiling, laughing, giggling, joking, hugging and just being naturally high as only birders can be about a life bird. Shared Lifer High is the best and there was a lot of it going on.

Someone else's photo in wide-angle, I am on the left taking photos

We saw some dear friends, but left fairly quickly so that James could catch the train back to Melbourne. He had plans for later that arvo. I did consider going back over, but unbelievably I was still not 48 hours out of hospital. I went home and took a long afternoon nap.

Sunday I had other plans already in place, but I heard that the AGP was seen well all day. So Monday morning, I took advantage of the closeness of the WTP to my house and I drove (no need to dash) over just before sunrise. I even took a few phone pics of the early morning. I love sunrises and sunsets and do not make the time to see them very often anymore, not by myself. Doing things alone is not my way. No, not if it was ever so. I need to share full stop. It is life to me. Which is why I am tapping out these words on this tired-ass laptop and why I so deeply appreciate those of you who read them. Thank you.

I was the first one at the Borrow Pits and the bird was waiting for me. I had that mega-rarity all to myself for at least fifteen minutes. Brace yourself, here come a bunch of AGP photos.

Yes, there was Lifer Pie

Soon more birders arrived. I saw my dear friend Kris Bernard who I had not seen in quite while. And again, there was much shared Lifer High. Joy. I do love, I need, to share, but I thoroughly enjoyed my bit of 'alone time' with that bird. We were both 'Americans' in the Land Down Under. Although I seriously doubt that the Plover will become a Permanent Resident.

Sending love as I do ❤️

How Lifer Pie Became Lifer Day

Aboard Tropic Paradise in the Torres Strait having Lifer Pie treat with James

I reckon it was in 2017 that I began stretching the tradition of Lifer Pie into a daylong event, Lifer Day. As life birds became fewer and farther between (by both time and distance), I thought that more of a celebration was in order. I began to take a day, often drinking a non-alcoholic beer or two while eating a lot of pistachios and writing. Often writing about the bird that I was celebrating. Then in the evening, I would have celebratory food, i.e. the traditional Lifer Pie.

My classic Lifer Day setup in my study. This was in January 2023 for Papuan Pitta.

My neurodivergent brain has great difficulty in actualising any accomplishment I make. I was also raised to feel that I did not deserve to celebrate anything that I did. It was all just expected. Nothing was allowed to be special.

That sounds harsh, but it is a fact. All through my developmental years, I would hear how horribly my brother, mother, or father had suffered during various parts of their lives (although not from my father, he rarely spoke about anything). I learned not to feel that my own ups or downs had any significance what-so-ever. No, not compared with others. Not if it was ever so.

Heaps of therapy and much introspection through writing has convinced me that I do indeed ‘deserve’. I don’t feel it, but at least I intellectually know it. And the Lifer Day celebration helps with remembering that for a day, or part of a day, whatever I can get away with.

I have a storage box in my closet containing about a score of journals. I kept hand-written journals post-rehab and pre-computer. One of the first important things that I wrote in a journal were the two words.

“I deserve”.

Thirty-four years later and I am still trying to convince myself. Family of origin issues are extremely powerful and we often continue in relationships that reinforce them. 

I need to bear in mind, that the lack of deserving anything has been a large part of the fuel for the engine of my creative brain. It is why I became a successful live performer. Standing ovations and encores cannot be denied! And they happened very regularly back then. They really did.

The audience at the i.e. Theatre of Performing Arts in Axminster, England where I broke the attendance record. There was a standing ovation and encore.  

Now, I write. My two published books grew in part from my lack of self-worth and trying to understand that I had indeed done something.

I wrote to remember the experiences and to make them real to me by sharing them. “Yes, I did do that. You can read about me doing it. And I can read about me doing it!” Weird I know, but the absolute truth.

Very proud of both books. I can feel that and I know I deserve to feel that. Sort of.

I was going to have a Lifer Day last Monday for Singing Starling. Although I did eat ice cream and chips, Lynn had (we think) a case of food poisoning. She was quite sick for a couple of days. Even though ate ice cream but I really did not enjoy it in a Lifer Pie worthy way. So, last Wednesday when James came to visit and I had Lifer Pie smash burger takeaway and Ben and Jerry’s with him. And finally, Singing Starling got Lifer Pie it deserved. And it was a Lifer for James as well. Here's a little look back on a few other Lifer Pie treats.

Richard took me to this spot on Cocos to have Lifer Pie treats. My friend Alan joined us too.

Lyndhurst Hotel to have Lifer dinner for my 700th bird Grey Grasswren

I love pecan pie bars that Lynn makes and with ice cream they are the perfect Lifer Pie

Lifer Pie dinner for Princess Parrots in Alice Springs

Lifer Pie for successful brain MRI. I did not have cancer. I continue to get a yearly MRI and all good (but no more desserts after).

That leaves Uniform Swiftlet, Red-capped Flowerpecker, and the magnificent, phenomenal. mega of all megas (MOAM) Papuan Hornbill for my future Lifer Days. Wonderful things to look forward to. But... no matter how I try, I still suck at that.

Sending love as I do ❤️

Maps and Lists, Photos and Thoughts.

Me watching the sunsetting in the zodiac off Saibai Island far, far north QLD (photo Carol Suter)

First a couple of personal notes. The internet is how I keep in touch with far flung friends and loved ones.

Physically, I am doing okay for my age and mileage. After 7 months of “smaller portions, wiser choices and more active”, I am comfortably at my goal weight. Hallelujah. My migraines are around and will be until they aren’t. I do have 70 year old plumbing that seems to have gone out of warrantee a few years ago and continues to vex me. I am having a small surgery again regarding that Wednesday week with a night in hospital. Oddly, considering my anxiety issues, I do not get anxious about surgery itself. That is completely out of my control and they give me drugs. Both are good for my ADHD, anxiety/depression neurodivergent brain.

Okay, now on with what I’ve been writing about.

It occurred to me recently that my bird list is like a map! (And I do love maps). It’s a map of my birding life. Each Life Bird represents a location, a town, a place somewhere across the vast continent and territories of Australia. I used to have a big map of the USA with pins in each of the hundreds of cities and towns where I had gigged. I’d love to do that with birds and maybe I will someday. For now, I can follow this trail of birds by reading down my list looking at the dates and locations. For me, it is one of the most wonderful parts of birding and keeping a bird list. I love my list (783 in Oz now).

My old USA gig map. I did at least one show in every town with a pin

Below are the maps on the walls of my study. And one (Queensland) on my closet door. I have run out of wall space and I love that big map of QLD that goes all the way up the Torres Strait including the northern most Australian islands.

As time and age hurtle along, choices become more limited. I can spark genuine joy in the memories of my many amazing experiences. When life sucks ‘right now’, I can still picture in my mind other places and happier times. As we get older it is increasingly the memoires that bring joy.

Sometimes remembering anything is asking a lot of the brain. So I write, and I write, and I need to share what I have written. It helps to make the experiences (and myself) real. Without external validation, I do not exist. Sad but oh so very true (you know you can buy these books).

I also look back at my photos. They are important to me as well, but my relationship with photography has changed over the years and particularly over the last few years. Photography has leaped forward technology-wise and I have chosen not to leap with it, or at least not to leap as far. I still take my camera birding, but it is (was) a 2009 camera. I have thousands upon thousands of photos taken with that camera. Here is a Blue-headed Vireo from 2014...

However! Only last week I came across an amazing deal on a lightly used 7D Mark ll. I have messed with it a little bit and so far, crossed fingers, I love it. My old push-pull, white 100-400mm lens is still working fine and of course clicks right into the Mark II. So now take birding pictures with a newer, old camera.

Fairy Martin on the track yesterday at the WTP with the new old camera

I bought my first ‘good’ camera, the classic 7D, in the spring of 2009. Some people thought my bird photos were really good. I do have a decent ‘eye’ as they call it. I have a dear friend in the US who has about 8 of my photos framed and hung in the rooms of his medical practice. They truly looked beautiful. I imagine he is the only doctor in Virginia, USA with a framed Zebra Finch in one of his rooms.& Nowadays my photographs are fairly ordinary compared to what is achievable with the new technologies. F-ing AI is a game changer. That it is a game I will not be playing. No, not if it was ever so.

Someone with modern tech knowledge can already manipulate photos into ‘something’ far beyond the photo that they originally shot. Soon (now?) they won’t even need to take a photograph. Just ask AI for a picture of whatever bird they’d like and ‘poof’ they will have one. Stringers are going to have a field day (without needing to go into the field). Oh yes, AI ‘writes’ too: books, articles, comments and posts on social media, songs, etc and so on and on. Talent is being replace by ‘tech-craft’. Heart is being replaced by technology. It is going to get worse. Yes, and worse and worse. I am honestly glad I am old and will not be around a lot longer. This is not my world in so many ways, both globally and personally. That is not going to change and I have run slam-out of acceptance. 

Sending love from a real, live heart ❤️