Kakapo 'adoption' a great gift option for Christmas

Close your eyes and try to imagine this:

There are only 150 people left in the world.

I know - it's difficult. But try to picture it. Got it? Now hold it...

Now imagine those people live spread out in a wild environment, without any way to travel other than by walking. And imagine they have great difficulty in "hooking up" in order to mate and eventually produce offspring.

It really challenges the mind to think of humans in those terms, since there are 7 billion of us on the planet.

But that may help you empathize with the plight of the kakapo parrot of New Zealand. There are less than 150 of these parrots remaining on the planet. They are on the brink of extinction.

Kakapo parrot (Photo by Kakapo recovery)

They are flightless. They are the heaviest parrot in the world. They are possibly the oldest living bird still on the planet. But the clock is ticking for this bird.

I first learned about the dire situation this bird is in during a Parrot Lover's Cruise. This is a program put together by the World Parrot Trust and Carol Cipriano, a U.S.-based travel agent, that essentially builds a program around existing cruise ship schedules to allow travellers who opt into the tour to see parrots in the wild and attend seminars about parrot conservation and education on board the ship between ports of call.

Being a parrot lover, I was aware of this bird long before I took the cruise - I just had no idea how close it was to extinction before watching "The Unnatural History of the Kakapo" video about it as part of the tour. 

Now our cruise - which was through the Caribbean - did not take us to New Zealand. However, it did take us to several islands where other parrots also face extinction: Puerto Rico, Dominica and Bonaire. All three of those islands currently have ongoing conservation projects to help save the endemic parrot species from extinction. (Not every island stop on our route featured parrots; but on the islands that did not include a parrot element, we used our time to go paddling or hiking, instead).

Any parrot population found on an island - particularly if it is only on one island - is very susceptible to extinction. One bad hurricane, an epidemic of disease, a sudden loss of species-specific habitat, introduction of a predator not native to the area - or a combination of all of them - can decimate a population concentrated in only one spot.

The reasons for its decline to a mere 18 birds in the 1970s is a result of several pressures on the population. The Kakapo Recovery Project consists of a team of dedicated conservationists working to restore the population to a level where it can thrive and exist without coming so close to extinction.

Kakapo plushies. (Photo by Kakapo Recovery)

Like all conservation projects, they require funds. Since it is the season of giving, if you are looking for a different kind of Christmas gift, one that also helps a good cause, you could "adopt" a kakapo. 

Now obviously, you don't physically adopt a bird - but your donation goes toward helping the project continue. 

There are different donation levels, and with each one, part of your "gift" includes a plush stuffed kakapo parrot.

Because it is close to Christmas, they will email donors a certificate of adoption so you can present that to a recipient, since at this point, a plushie may not arrive on time for Dec. 25, depending on where you are, in the world.

If you visit the project's website, you can find other ways to help make it a Merry Christmas for kakapos.

Wanderlust runs through my family genes: a mom's day blog

I'm not the only one in my family to be bitten by the travel bug, apparently.

Mother's Day is upon us, and it's always a bit of a sad day for me, since my mom has been gone since 2007. In fact, the entire second quarter of the year is always a bit rough, since my mom's birthday is in April, her funeral services took place a few days after what would have been her 80th birthday, and that's followed by Mother's Day in May. It repeats in June, since my dad's birthday, Father's Day and his passing (on Father's Day Eve, 1992) all fall in that month.

Suffice to say, I'm really glad when the calendar hits July.

Last year, I chronicled some of my travels with my dad. I really didn't travel much with my mom, unless it was the three of us, together, as a family. Most early travel involved either going to a cottage we rented, or later on, camping in places like Sibald Point Provincial Park on Lake Simcoe or Outlet Beach Provincial Park on Lake Ontario.

However, we did make a big journey in July 1967, driving from Newmarket, Ontario (near Toronto) to Montreal to attend Expo '67 and visit some good friends who lived there.
For me, as a 10-year-old, Expo was of secondary interest; I was really keen on seeing Fort Henry in Kingston, followed by a trip to Upper Canada Village, located near the community of Morrisburg.

Dad and Mom - set to board our car
and head off to Montreal in 1967.

After that, my family's next big trip did not involve me; my mom and dad drove across Canada from Toronto to Victoria and back home again through the U.S. while I was working as a junior forest ranger in the town of Gogama in northern Ontario. I didn't regret missing the trip, as 1973 proved to be one of the best summers of my life - still is, years later.

A few years later, I was off to UNB and higher education and the only traveling I did involved flying back and forth from Ontario to Fredericton, N.B. for school.

During that time frame, my parents divorced, my dad eventually remarried. Without me around, they both began to travel internationally much more as I finished university and became more of an independent adult, with my own life and my own travels to plan.

However, my mom travelled much more extensively to many more places than did my dad. Dad and his wife Carole often holidayed in Florida each spring. Their one big trip was to the Mediterranean, including stops in Greece and Turkey the year before his passing. He wasn't really fond of air travel, especially long distances which made him feel a bit claustrophobic.

Meanwhile, my mom - who never re-married - began taking regular trips to to Florida, and Hawaii. But in addition to those destinations, she also cruised the Caribbean and vacationed in Mexico as well as three South American countries (none of which I've visited!): Colombia, Venezuela and Brazil. She often travelled with a girlfriend, or in a group of friends and family.

And she always brought me back something really neat, a special gift she thought I'd like from her trips. I still have Hawaiian bookends made from lava, a little wall plaque from Mexico, ball caps from Columbia and Venezuela. And while I treasured those mementos while she was alive, I treasure them even more now that she's gone.

Cool Aztec art - a present from my mom's
Mexican journey

Her last journey of any distance was to Newfoundland, and I remember her remarking about the moose she saw in Gros Morne National Park.

So you see, my true wanderlust really comes more from my mom than my dad.

The years I have spent without her have given me a new perspective about her - her experiences, her approach to life, and her sense of adventure.

Yes, "sense of adventure." That's not a phrase I often think of when I remember my mom. Memories are often painted on emotional pallets, colouring the facts with other perceptions. But when you actually look at the facts, she must have had quite the sense of adventure to go on all those journeys without a husband or boyfriend for companionship and protection. While you wouldn't find her paddling an outrigger canoe in Hawaii, or chasing after parrots in the jungles of South America, she certainly didn't shy away from travelling internationally to those places - and on more than one occasion.


But, of course, she was still my mother, I was still her only son - and when she was still alive and I began to travel internationally, her concern for me would manifest itself, sometimes in funny ways.

My first international trip took me to Belize and she sent me a funny going away card; however, when she found out I was going to Africa for more than a month, she became extremely worried something bad would happen to me. Her fears were based more on what she remembers from old Tarzan movies of the 1930's than modern-day concerns of terrorism and disease. I remember just about falling off my chair laughing when she said she was afraid that "guys with tomahawks" would "get me."

After I returned safely, she seemed less concerned about any future trips I took (to Ecuador in 2002, for example). And as her health declined after that year, her concerns were less about where I was going and more about just trying to cope with the daily struggles of what eventually was diagnosed as myelodysplastic syndrome (MDS, formerly known as pre-leukemia).

Mom and I shared more than a few hot dogs -
like this time in Fish Creek Park, Calgary -
but never shared a trip together as adults.

Looking back, I really regret not having ever travelled with her anywhere. We always did interesting and fun things when she visited me, wherever I lived out west, but during the last few years, she was not even well enough to do anything but come out to visit - the plane ride between Alberta/BC and Toronto was tough enough for her.

So we never really travelled anywhere together, as adults.

And of course, we never will.


So if your mother is still alive, treasure the time you have with her - and if her health allows it, plan an adventure, go travel with her. Even if it's just for a few days, take a trip. It doesn't have to be anything exotic or far away - just travel and spend some quality time with the person who brought you into this world.

That way, you'll build even more memories to sustain you on tough days like Mother's Day or her birthday, after she is gone and you can no longer spend time with her.

And whether she's still here, or gone, don't forget - never forget - to say those five words that mean so much to any mother.

I love you. Thanks, Mom.

Rollin' down the river (on a reconverted rice barge)

Now I know what you're thinking ... and no, the title does not refer to a barge that hauls twice- or even once-converted rice.

(A quick aside: was there ever a more useless food created? What's wrong with long grain/short grain/sticky/Basmati/brown/wild rice? Why do we need to convert rice? Can't we allow it to keep its own spiritual beliefs?)
 

All aboard the Mekhala!


No, what I'm actually referring to is an old rice barge that Thai River Cruises converted into a passenger boat to ferry tourists up and down the Chao Phraya, a.k.a., the "River of Kings." The company actually runs two boats, I happened to be aboard the Mekhala for my overnight cruise from Ayutthaya down to Bangkok.

The boat is 20 metres long and constructed from huge teak planks. It’s 100 years old, but it has been transformed into a rather stylish floating hotel, complete with a sundeck, fully-stocked bar, books for passengers' reading pleasure and staterooms that include air-conditioning and private western style bathrooms.

I'd spent the first half of the day exploring the ancient capital of Ayutthya with Neung, a guide with Nutty's Adventures, using bicycles to visit the ruins and ancient temples from the days when this city was the capital of Siam.

Having traded bicycle wheels for boat engines, I sat back and relaxed, watching the river roll by on our journey to the modern-day capital of Thailand.



A raft of water hyacinth and a fish shack.

Our passenger list certainly had an international flavor to it. I was the only North American on this particular cruise; we also boasted a German, an Austrian, seven Danes and a Thai lady who had grown up in Denmark. Then, of course, we had a Thai crew of four.

We saw an odd mix of the old and new as we motored at a leisurely pace along the river. Buddhist temples and their associated buildings certainly dominated the structures we saw along the riverbanks. On the river itself, our boat was joined by craft as small as one-person fishing skiffs to huge barges of rice, ore and other materials being hauled up and down the river by tugboats. At various points, we also saw large rafts of water hyacinth plants floating on top of the river.

Once underway, our crew prepared us cocktails of our choosing. For my first drink of the day, I opted for a "Mekhala Special", a concoction of different tropical fruit juices, gin and something called "Thai whiskey," which, as I understand it, is closer in character to being a rum than a whiskey. (And depending on who you talk with, there is or is not a spirit called Thai whiskey.)

Regardless of its ingredients, it was delicious - cold and refreshing.

Alternately napping and snapping (photos), I whiled away the afternoon. At about 5 p.m., we reached Wat Kai Tia, a Buddhist monastery and its associated village. The captain turned us loose for an hour or so, to wander about the one main street. There wasn't a lot there, but I did manage to find a little café where no one spoke English, but sold very cold Leo's Lager Beer. I enjoyed a can before heading back to the boat for a sumptuous candlelit dinner on board.



Enjoying the deck during our cruise

 We were up and heading down the river before 6:30 the next morning. We enjoyed another fine meal, a hot, full breakfast. A rain shower drove us under cover for a few minutes, but it passed by quickly.

And that's really a good description of how the cruise ended - all too quickly. Before long, the skyline of Bangkok loomed in front of us with its contrasting mix of old and new buildings, modern hotels next door to ancient temples, the ferry boat traffic moving people and goods up and down the city's main thoroughfare. (Before the automobile and its associated roads became the main form of transportation, Bangkok could be negotiated by a series of canals, which gave rise to it often being referred to as "the Venice of the East.")

We said our good-byes, passengers and crew, and disembarked to head off in our separate directions for our next adventure in Thailand.