The Cape Town storm (or #StormCovfefe, named after Donald Trump’s recent infamous Twitter typo) dominated the attention of the Western Cape the past few days. It took the terrible, terrible fires and property damage in Knysna to finally distract people from the destruction closer to home. While most predictions for the storm probably overestimated the amount of rain and wind that we were to experience, it was nevertheless a notable event. Apart from the ubiquitous large trees blowing over and the associated damage, there were scary scenes along the beachfronts with large waves flooding roads, and a number of people lost their lives in electrical fires. It was a truly miserable day, and I was very aware of the privilege I had of a warm, safe, dry shelter. It would have been an unbearable day for those not so fortunate, of which there are many in Cape Town. When my birding friend, who moonlights as a meteorological enthusiast, Bryn de Kocks, posted about the massive front approaching from the Atlantic, my first thought was not drought relief, but, selfishly, I thought about birds. The storm had passed some notable South Atlantic islands, which are home to a number of pelagic bird species that would cause quite a stir in South African waters. In large storms such as this it is not uncommon for birds to be blown in quite close to the Cape. Often they are exhausted and spent from the forced journey, and they retire to the nearest shore to recover, which they sadly often don’t manage. So it was with anticipation that I set out to Cape Point the day after the storm. Firstly, it was a good opportunity rescue any stranded birds, and secondly, to find a rare bird that I would otherwise not likely see in the region. Dominic Rollinson picked me up early and we set off. We arrived at Cape Point just after sunrise in order to do a seawatch from a well-known spot. We were joined by Cliff Dorse, who had taken a half day off work to enjoy the post-storm birding. With the wild conditions offshore, many pelagic birds had pushed closer in to shore or even into False Bay to shelter, and were now heading out again past Cape Point. We set up two scopes and enjoyed the unbelievable scenes otherwise reserved for dedicated pelagic boat trips 30 kms offshore. There were thousands upon thousands of birds, mostly close enough to identify to species. There were three species of albatross, at least one species of Giant Petrel and four other petrels, two shearwater species, and many, many Antarctic Prions. We enjoyed these scenes while trying to find something properly rare, but it was only the more usual species it seemed. We then moved on to Olifantsbos to walk the shoreline looking for tired/dead seabirds. Dom headed north, and I took the south section. Neither of us found anything, which is a good thing for the birds but disappointing for us. However, we both mentioned on the ride back how much we enjoyed our respective walks. Time spent out in nature is never wasted! I stumbled upon a shipwreck that I was unaware of, which I couldn’t resist photographing. This area was once called the ‘Cape of Storms’ before it was changed to the ‘Cape of Good Hope’ (an attempt to redress what the King of Portugal considered bad advertising for prospective settlers). The recent storm was a reminder of the wild nature of our coast, and this is why our shoreline has the highest concentrations of shipwrecks in the world. I learnt later that this is the Thomas T. Tucker, an American steamer that ran aground because of thick fog and a faulty compass. My encounter with this wreck and the photographs I managed with my cellphone are the main reason for me sharing this experience – it’s just another reminder that this city and country have so many hidden gems and places that I am yet to explore!
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AuthorI am a birder, biologist, and nature blogger. I post about my trips, informative tidbits, and things I think are interesting. Archives
July 2017
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