I think I am making progress towards understanding the bird dimension. This dimension is experienced by almost all bird field biologists, and exists alongside our own dimension. However, it is very ,very hard (and impossible in some cases) for humans to cross over into it, but if we are lucky, we are able to find the “portals” in which our birds pass to and fro. However, even if you are a bird, passing across the dimensions is not always within your control. In different parts of the world, there are different energies that govern dimension crossing. Here in the Outback, the main agent seems to be the wind.
I first experienced this dimension during my first field season (spring1) last year while tracking birds not yet ready to commit their selves to breeding. I had tracked a group along side their feeding grounds and while I excused myself to a tree the birds had popped over a ridge and disappeared. I regarded this as inexperience dealing with birds that may have decided to go from chatty screech-mode to ninja mode (another topic for later discussion). However, once the birds had gone into breeding mode I did not experience sudden disappearances, which in a way makes sense as the forces of dimension crossing may be too strong for eggs and young birds to handle.
During my second season (autumn 1), many birds had moved away and the few groups that remained had many young newly fledged birds, so it was only until this current season (spring2) that I truly experienced the bird dimension. When I arrived two months ago, the groups that remained (fewer than in autumn) had young that had reached over 75% of the adult body mass. They were thus able to make crossings. The birds had also been satisfied with the number of young they had produced and to make up for the previous harsh dry years had bred straight through spring, summer, and early fall. The mouse plague that had swept across the land during the summer and autumn had eaten down many grass seeds and the weather had gone back to dryness. Although it was technically “breeding season”, the birds had no “breeding energy” to counteract the pull of the bird dimension.
Of the seven groups that remained on the station grounds, the Littlebeak Clan was particularly susceptible to the wind. During still, sunny cloudless parts of the day, the group of five birds were nowhere to be seen, but as soon as the wind picked up they were swooped across the dimensions and delivered to our door, all very hungry from their journey and ever so chatty. It was a crying (literally in some cases) shame that attempts to record their talking yielded WAY too much wind (later discussion: “Why the wind hates me”). Other groups seemed to be susceptible to the wind push/pull system, although larger group sizes sometimes (but not necessarily) also helped resists the pull back into the bird dimension.
Recently, my technician and I discovered the Cottagers making a run for an open portal, dragging along their reluctant teenagers. We had been looking for the Hopover Clan, who had long since decided after numerous nest building episodes that their summer hangout by the North Lake was not good for the current time, and had moved over a ridge into a dry creek bed. So, imagine our surprise when in that same creek bed we were greeted by the excited grunts and squeaks of the Cottager kids as they came down from their nap in the trees. Of course, being field biologist we embraced the opportunity to work with the birds in the creek bed, but the group had other ideas, which being apostlebirds, only became apparent after they had hopped on the scale and eaten our bread. The kids were still begging for more bread when the adults started their quorum behaviour and gathering in the trees oriented towards the portal. One by one they added their vote of “Shall we go? In this direction””In this direction. Let’s go” “Let’s go, right there”, and en masse, the adults flew down the creek. Some of the kids (the “good” kids) left immediately, leaving behind a few reluctant stragglers that while stuffing their beaks would glance down the creek with loud long “Eeeeee! Eeeeee! Eeee?” before flying off.
And up we got and followed like good little biologists, until we noticed them on an opposite hillside just in time to see them fly over OPEN FLAT land, with no trees, no cover and over a mad dash of about 250m to a small gully. We ran, and they moved again across OPEN land, and this time my tech and I split up, she running after birds, and me for the field car. She tracked them through three more hopovers and the last thing she saw before I arrived with the car was the group bee-lining it for the North Lake again across open land (but at least close enough near trees that should an aerial predator come, they could dash for cover).
We caught up with the group at the North Lake just in time to see them dash up one shore into the portal and behind a clump of trees, and although we thoroughly searched the tree clump, followed by a tour of the lake, three drainages and a second look in the clump and nearest drainage going back, we could not relocate the group. I bet you they were already in the next dimension looking at us through the one way dimension glass snickering the whole time.
The thing about bird dimensions (and I have also been told, fish dimensions) is that although the portal location stays the same, the timing does not, much to the effect that on some days the portal remains closed and on others the portal is in active use. For example,in apostlebirds, whole groups appear and disappear over a set of northern ridges. Exploration beyond the ridge leads to a convoluted hilly area, that although beautiful, is very deceptive. You can spend days there hiking up and down, up and down, up and down hills and around and around corners and not find the birds, even though the seem to pop in and out of that area. I once got up on the highest hill near the region and stared through binoculars looking for any sign of disturbances in the air, grass, trees, rocks, etc…. to see if I could make out the portal.
So, the mystery still remains of the field-time continuum. How many birds pass through it? For how long? Can they pop out at locations beyond the field station? When they pass through it is it like a teleportation device? (please, oh please, I would love to get the physics of that one). The birds hold the mystery, and I’m afraid that no amount of bread will buy me that information. Birds!
Watching us through the one way “bird dimension” window probably looks like this (one of left laughing at us).
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