Halfway down the Danube

Congo: conversation with a forestry guy

Edited, paraphrased, and details elided for confidentiality.

"You'll meet people who say we shouldn't log tropical forests at all.  Greenpeace, lots of NGOs.  Just say no.

"Logging is one of the biggest employers in the Congo.  Three hundred thousand people.  It's mostly legitimate, registered companies that are paying a legal wage.  They're businesses, they're not angels, they're not perfect.  But they have addresses.  You can find them.  Most of them have been in the business for decades -- there are family firms going back a century or more.  They're long-term thinkers.

"A mature tropical hardwood tree will gross you around fifty thousand dollars, F.O.B. Antwerp.  That's a lot of money.  Somebody is going to cut those trees. 

"You can do this sustainably.  In fact it's easier to do sustainable logging in a tropical forest, because it's more diverse.  You have ten or twenty different species on a hectare instead of two or three.  So you say, this time we're going after this species, only.  And you harvest one or two or three trees per hectare.  It's the farthest thing from clearcutting you can imagine.  Come back in a year, take another species.  One, two, three trees.  The forest recovers.

Tits

They're everywhere.

It turns out that our yard is good for birds: damp mossy ground, several different sorts of tree, bushes.  I suspect it's going to be buggy in summer -- we'll find out -- but right now, there's a constant coming and going of small birds.  I've spotted at least a dozen species so far. 

Oh, nothing spectacular.  Sparrows.  Doves.  Crows and magpies.  The little European robin, smaller and shyer than its American cousin.  There's a little guy who goes by the wonderful name of "zaunkoenig" -- "Fence King".

And tits.  Lots and lots of tits.

I hadn't had a chance to really look at tits before.  They're all over Eurasia, but they weren't common in the places where we'd lived.  Here in Germany, though, they're as common as sparrows.

Birdy stuff below the fold.  Sensitive readers peel off now.

Rosy Starlings

Single parent for the next few days.

Jacob, our youngest, has been sickish for some weeks. So he's gone to Germany with Claudia. We're not sure what's up with him, but we're having it looked at.

I have a couple of posts yet in mind about Jordan, but they're a bit depressing. So let's talk about birds.

Rosy Starlings

Single parent for the next few days. Jacob, our youngest, has been sickish for some weeks. So he's gone to Germany with Claudia. We're not sure what's up with him, but we're having it looked at. I have a couple of posts yet in mind about Jordan, but they're a bit depressing. So let's talk about birds.

Woodpecker

Saw a woodpecker today.

I was walking back from dropping Alan off at the school bus. Chilly morning, just after dawn, right around freezing. Both Alan and I had been a little sluggish... sometimes our morning walks are lively, with lots of questions and conversation. Sometimes it's companionable silence. Sometimes it's just silence, because we're both not quite started yet. This had been one of the just-silence ones. Not bad, just nothing to say. Neither of us are really morning people.

We hung around the bus stop for a minute or two, the bus came, I loaded him on. Ritual: after he sits down, I go to his window, tap with my wedding ring. He looks up and smiles. I blow a kiss. Bus takes off and I walk home.

Walking home: Heard a faint sound, tok-tok-tok. Looked up at one of the two poplars in front of the neighbors house. Thought at first it was a magpie (lots of magpies around here). But... too small. And it was tapping.

Watched it for several minutes until it flew away. (Actually, a magpie showed up and scared it off.) Undulating flight. Reddish on the bottom. I'm pretty sure it was a Great Spotted Woodpecker.

Not a particularly rare bird. In fact, common as dirt all over Europe and much of Asia too. Still, I'd never seen one before, and it was a completely unexpected touch of wilderness in our very urban neighborhood. And a bright note in an otherwise glum week.

And that's all.

Woodpecker

Saw a woodpecker today. I was walking back from dropping Alan off at the school bus. Chilly morning, just after dawn, right around freezing. Both Alan and I had been a little sluggish... sometimes our morning walks are lively, with lots of questions and conversation. Sometimes it's companionable silence. Sometimes it's just silence, because we're both not quite started yet. This had been one of the just-silence ones. Not bad, just nothing to say. Neither of us are really morning people. We hung around the bus stop for a minute or two, the bus came, I loaded him on. Ritual: after he sits down, I go to his window, tap with my wedding ring. He looks up and smiles. I blow a kiss. Bus takes off and I walk home. Walking home: Heard a faint sound, tok-tok-tok. Looked up at one of the two poplars in front of the neighbors house. Thought at first it was a magpie (lots of magpies around here). But... too small. And it was tapping. Watched it for several minutes until it flew away. (Actually, a magpie showed up and scared it off.) Undulating flight. Reddish on the bottom. I'm pretty sure it was a Great Spotted Woodpecker. Not a particularly rare bird. In fact, common as dirt all over Europe and much of Asia too. Still, I'd never seen one before, and it was a completely unexpected touch of wilderness in our very urban neighborhood. And a bright note in an otherwise glum week. And that's all.

An inconvenient truth

I think the trailer is a bit lurid but the facts seem to be scientifically correct. And a shock may be in order to rip people out of their safe little worlds and make them wake up, before it is too late.

Watch the movie. Then do something. Anything. Please.

An inconvenient truth

I think the trailer is a bit lurid but the facts seem to be scientifically correct. And a shock may be in order to rip people out of their safe little worlds and make them wake up, before it is too late. Watch the movie. Then do something. Anything. Please.