25 juilliet

25 juilliet
Le Parc Ornithologic du Le Teich
Cazeau
Woke to a penetrating and omnipresent rain. After sharing oatmeal and tea with Max under an overhang beside toilettes, we parted ways.
Spent the better part of the day at the bird refuge just east of Arcachon. Very much like Reifel in B.C. In the early part of last century it was a wetland diked off to raise fish. The birds loved it. Sometime in the 1950's it became a refuge, with the water levels still controlled in order to make life easy for le oiseaux. Although the rain continued, at least the tide was high. When it's low, most of the birds are out on the large mud flats foraging.
It was pretty much the birds and me. White Storks, Black headed gulls, coots, mallards, little egrets, buff backed herons, Water rails, dunlin, Cormorants, black winged stilts, Swallows, Mute swans, Sand martins, A nightingale, a yellow wag-tail, and, of course, crows, pidgeons, magpies and unidentifiable (to moi) seagulls.
The black winded stilts were most striking, standing on one leg in the rugged breeze preening themselves.
While peering out from one of the many superbly placed and outfitted blinds, the two sand martins that I saw flew in on the wind, banked like tiny fighter jets over a small berry bush beside the blind and perched within a meter of my face. One seemed to be chewing on a twig for a minute or so before fluffing up its feathers and settling in for a siesta.
Walking out of another blind the nightingale flew right up to a neighboring branch, gave me a good examination, apparently decided that I was just a wet human wearing a red cap, and flitted away before I could take my second breath.
Futily attempting to silently creep down a wooded trail (my left shoe squeaks in the most annoying fashion) I kept glimpsing brown and black flashes darting across and back about 10 meters ahead. Finally, able to silence my shoe for five steps, I got to spend a precious 8 minutes communing through my rented binoculars with the illustrious yellow wag-tail.
Now I am envisioning a bicycle tour that goes from one bird sanctuary to another. In North America, in Europe, in Asia, in Africa, in Central America, in South America, New Zealand, Australia....
By the time that I finally dragged myself away, it looks as thouh the rain was dissipating. Ah, but when I mounted my trusted velocipede, the heavens opened. It was Le Deluge. Met yet another bicyle touring family taking shelter in the entrance to a Super Marche. Mom, Dad, three boys, touring in a big circuit from Bordeaux. They were hoping to get better weather than back home in Brittany. Oh, well.
With their guidance I found the piste cyclable to the little town Cazeau, where I myself found shelter in a cheap hotel. It continues to dump chats et chiens.