Bliain - Part 18
30th August 2021
Part eighteen of my project to make a photograph every day for a full year, or bliain in Irish. Find Part 17 here.
17th August
This common dolphin was one in a small and lively group we saw at work today. The beautiful markings on their flanks are well visible here. This was one of multiple occasions when this dolphin lifted itself almost vertically out of the water and slammed itself down hard on the surface, creating quite a splash. It’s hard to know exactly what such behaviour is about, but given that dolphins are social animals whose main sense is sound it’s almost certainly some kind of communication. Either the animal is trying to get the attention of the other members of the pod, perhaps to show off or to get their attention for another reason, or maybe it’s a show of aggression to the boat – a warning to keep away because look how big and strong I am. The more time I spend working in marine tourism the more I think about how we, as humans, interpret the behaviours we see in other animals. I have seen bottlenose dolphins engaged in incredibly aggressive fights while most of the humans on the boat doted over how cute it was to see them playing. More often than not it seems as though common dolphins enjoy using boats as a prop to play with, but it’s often clear when they are actively avoiding the boat too, and in these cases it’s best to leave. Sometimes it’s hard to know which side of this spectrum you’re at, and then I get to wonder and worry about whether or not this kind of “eco-tourism” is just another form of human disturbance for our fellow species, lumped in on top of overfishing, habitat destruction, climate change and pollution (and everything else.) This year in particular I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of giving back to the world that provides me with all I need to survive. It seems as though most of us only ever take. If I’m out there enjoying seeing these animals then how can I give back to them in thanks for that? I’m still trying to figure that out, but hopefully part of it is sending at least a few people home with the concept of thinking about other animals not just as a box to tick on a bucket list but as living beings with their own lives to live and as much of a right as ourselves to do so without disturbance.
18th August
An Tráigh Bán (White Strand) on the Great Blasket Island. I’m amazed at how many people comment on the clarity of the water here. Why wouldn’t it be clear? I’m no oceanographer but unless it’s been stormy enough to raise sediment into the water column, or you’re near a large rivermouth, shouldn’t most coastal areas look like this much of the time? Have the majority of us become so used to dark, turbid waters on the edges of polluted cities that seeing a clear sea seems unusual? Is it a case of shifting baseline syndrome, or am I imagining something out of nothing?
19th August
In a close repeat of a recent image, here’s a juvenile bottlenose dolphin jumping (for joy, or something else?!) Today was the first time I’ve seen this species this year. Being more used to seeing common dolphins it’s always striking how huge the burly bottlenose seem by comparison. Like many things that live in the sea dolphins tend to be dark above and white underneath, as this youngster clearly shows. This is probably because looking down on a dark back against the darkness of the ocean’s depths helps an animal to avoid being seen, either by predator or prey. Similarly, looking up at a light-coloured belly against the light of the sky helps an animal to hide too, though I imagine this doesn’t work as well as the top down camouflage. Open ocean fish tend to have the same style of colouring, not because they’re closely related to dolphins (the two groups of animals evolved hundreds of millions of years apart) but because this strategy works, and so is kept in the gene pool through natural selection. Similarities like this across unrelated species is known as convergent evolution. The parallels in the typical shape of most fish and dolphins is another example.
20th August
An unexciting image from an exciting encounter with a fin whale today. The enormous nostrils are clearly visible here, sucking in a huge breath of air before the animal slipped under the surface again. Cetaceans are efficient breathers, using pretty much all of the oxygen they inhale. We humans, by comparison, are very wasteful with our air, only absorbing about 20% of the oxygen we take in with each breath. The raised ridge in front of this big whale’s nostrils is a splashguard, helping prevent water from entering the blowhole while the animal is breathing. Fin whales are the second biggest animal ever to have existed. On calm days the sounds of the blow and the subsequent inhalation are like something industrial. Even without much of a sense of scale in this image the "bow wave" the animal is pushing ahead of it gives some indication of their massive size and strength.
21st August
Grey seals on An Tráigh Bán, Great Blasket Island. Despite decent weather and a reasonable amount of people on the island there have been seals here the last few days. Usually in the summertime the seals are scattered from the strand by humans inching ever closer into their personal space. It’s good to see people have been giving them some room these days.
22nd August
A misty day around the islands today, providing some atmospheric conditions. It’s nice to be able to enjoy such days in safety. The marvels of satellite technology mean you know where you are even when you can’t see very far through the gloom. Distant glimpses of familiar landmarks can be enjoyed for aesthetic reasons rather than as heart-in-mouth moments of relief to get your bearings and turn the boat in the right direction for home.
23rd August
Late summer late night under lights, with saltwater lapping and curlews calling in the dark.
24th August
On my way to drop some tools back to a friend this evening I spied a low fog creeping over Mám Clasach and took a detour to see what mystical mists might be floating around about the western end of the peninsula. Such was the scene from a little way above the pass as the sun sank to the horizon. It’s nice to live in a place where such scenes form the backdrop to everyday chores.
25th August
Shallow Blasket waters and sandy bottoms on a powerful day that stole the summer back from autumn’s grip.
26th August
My wireless internet hasn’t been great recently so I called in some experts to hook me up with a powerful broadband plan. They say it’ll take awhile to set it up. Hopefully not too long, as I think they mentioned something about going south for some winter sun before long.
27th August
My good friend and master cloud inversion predictor Jaro reckoned this morning would see a low fog settled on the peninsula, and he was right. I very nearly went back to sleep when the alarm went off, but I’m glad I managed to extract myself from under the sheets in the end. After a few failed attempts from other locations where the midges were biting I eventually settled on this scene, seen from the Conor Pass. The fog stayed around much of the lower ground for most of the day. It’s amazing what difference a few hundred metres can make on such gloomy weather days.
28th August
The Misty Dawn at Barra Liath on another exceptionally calm day. The current high pressure system Ireland is locked in is freakishly good. There has been nearly no swell for a long time, and practically no wind. Two different thermometers recorded a water temperature of twenty degrees Celsius in Ventry a few evenings ago. The forecast shows no end in sight. It’s pleasant, but it all feels a little abnormal. Coincidentally, or perhaps not, the wildlife sightings at work haven’t been quite what would be expected at this time of year either. It’s hard not to marry these two observations, and harder still to avoid going down the rabbit hole of climate change existentialism.
29th August
HBIRL107 going for a deep dive. After a notable absence this month it was nice to see a bit of big whale activity again today, even if this particular specimen is a pretty small one. It has been in Dingle Bay for a few days now but it’s quite elusive, perhaps because of the number of boats, both private and commercial, chasing it around the place, perhaps also because food seems to be patchy. Rather than feeding repeatedly in one area of abundance this whale seemed to be getting only a mouthful or two of fish before steaming off towards another small bait ball. It seemed like a lot of mileage and energy spent for meager rewards, though obviously this is anecdotal observation rather than thorough scientific study. All the same, the lack of obvious feeding activity we’ve seen this month is in contrast to what I’ve become used to seeing in the previous five Augusts I’ve been here. The code mentioned earlier refers to it being the 107th humpback whale on the Irish catalogue of individually recorded animals. A quick check of the records reveals it was in Kerry this time last year too. It’s wonderful to be able to see these animals back year on year. It’s easier to develop a sense of meaning and connection (and therefore empathy) to individuals rather than random animals. Some are very regular visitors, though this year’s poor sightings of big blubber so far have left me wondering where the old reliables such as 17 and 67 are. They certainly don’t seem to be within striking distance of the West Kerry coastline at the moment.
30th August
Autumn is on the air today, with a chill carried on a slight breeze and overcast conditions dulling the sense of summer we’ve enjoyed for most of the last week. I saw my first haws on a whitethorn yesterday evening and went looking for blackberries after work today. The recent sunshine has already ripened many berries. One of these evenings I’ll have to head out with a bucket...
Find Part 19 here
17th August
This common dolphin was one in a small and lively group we saw at work today. The beautiful markings on their flanks are well visible here. This was one of multiple occasions when this dolphin lifted itself almost vertically out of the water and slammed itself down hard on the surface, creating quite a splash. It’s hard to know exactly what such behaviour is about, but given that dolphins are social animals whose main sense is sound it’s almost certainly some kind of communication. Either the animal is trying to get the attention of the other members of the pod, perhaps to show off or to get their attention for another reason, or maybe it’s a show of aggression to the boat – a warning to keep away because look how big and strong I am. The more time I spend working in marine tourism the more I think about how we, as humans, interpret the behaviours we see in other animals. I have seen bottlenose dolphins engaged in incredibly aggressive fights while most of the humans on the boat doted over how cute it was to see them playing. More often than not it seems as though common dolphins enjoy using boats as a prop to play with, but it’s often clear when they are actively avoiding the boat too, and in these cases it’s best to leave. Sometimes it’s hard to know which side of this spectrum you’re at, and then I get to wonder and worry about whether or not this kind of “eco-tourism” is just another form of human disturbance for our fellow species, lumped in on top of overfishing, habitat destruction, climate change and pollution (and everything else.) This year in particular I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of giving back to the world that provides me with all I need to survive. It seems as though most of us only ever take. If I’m out there enjoying seeing these animals then how can I give back to them in thanks for that? I’m still trying to figure that out, but hopefully part of it is sending at least a few people home with the concept of thinking about other animals not just as a box to tick on a bucket list but as living beings with their own lives to live and as much of a right as ourselves to do so without disturbance.
18th August
An Tráigh Bán (White Strand) on the Great Blasket Island. I’m amazed at how many people comment on the clarity of the water here. Why wouldn’t it be clear? I’m no oceanographer but unless it’s been stormy enough to raise sediment into the water column, or you’re near a large rivermouth, shouldn’t most coastal areas look like this much of the time? Have the majority of us become so used to dark, turbid waters on the edges of polluted cities that seeing a clear sea seems unusual? Is it a case of shifting baseline syndrome, or am I imagining something out of nothing?
19th August
In a close repeat of a recent image, here’s a juvenile bottlenose dolphin jumping (for joy, or something else?!) Today was the first time I’ve seen this species this year. Being more used to seeing common dolphins it’s always striking how huge the burly bottlenose seem by comparison. Like many things that live in the sea dolphins tend to be dark above and white underneath, as this youngster clearly shows. This is probably because looking down on a dark back against the darkness of the ocean’s depths helps an animal to avoid being seen, either by predator or prey. Similarly, looking up at a light-coloured belly against the light of the sky helps an animal to hide too, though I imagine this doesn’t work as well as the top down camouflage. Open ocean fish tend to have the same style of colouring, not because they’re closely related to dolphins (the two groups of animals evolved hundreds of millions of years apart) but because this strategy works, and so is kept in the gene pool through natural selection. Similarities like this across unrelated species is known as convergent evolution. The parallels in the typical shape of most fish and dolphins is another example.
20th August
An unexciting image from an exciting encounter with a fin whale today. The enormous nostrils are clearly visible here, sucking in a huge breath of air before the animal slipped under the surface again. Cetaceans are efficient breathers, using pretty much all of the oxygen they inhale. We humans, by comparison, are very wasteful with our air, only absorbing about 20% of the oxygen we take in with each breath. The raised ridge in front of this big whale’s nostrils is a splashguard, helping prevent water from entering the blowhole while the animal is breathing. Fin whales are the second biggest animal ever to have existed. On calm days the sounds of the blow and the subsequent inhalation are like something industrial. Even without much of a sense of scale in this image the "bow wave" the animal is pushing ahead of it gives some indication of their massive size and strength.
21st August
Grey seals on An Tráigh Bán, Great Blasket Island. Despite decent weather and a reasonable amount of people on the island there have been seals here the last few days. Usually in the summertime the seals are scattered from the strand by humans inching ever closer into their personal space. It’s good to see people have been giving them some room these days.
22nd August
A misty day around the islands today, providing some atmospheric conditions. It’s nice to be able to enjoy such days in safety. The marvels of satellite technology mean you know where you are even when you can’t see very far through the gloom. Distant glimpses of familiar landmarks can be enjoyed for aesthetic reasons rather than as heart-in-mouth moments of relief to get your bearings and turn the boat in the right direction for home.
23rd August
Late summer late night under lights, with saltwater lapping and curlews calling in the dark.
24th August
On my way to drop some tools back to a friend this evening I spied a low fog creeping over Mám Clasach and took a detour to see what mystical mists might be floating around about the western end of the peninsula. Such was the scene from a little way above the pass as the sun sank to the horizon. It’s nice to live in a place where such scenes form the backdrop to everyday chores.
25th August
Shallow Blasket waters and sandy bottoms on a powerful day that stole the summer back from autumn’s grip.
26th August
My wireless internet hasn’t been great recently so I called in some experts to hook me up with a powerful broadband plan. They say it’ll take awhile to set it up. Hopefully not too long, as I think they mentioned something about going south for some winter sun before long.
27th August
My good friend and master cloud inversion predictor Jaro reckoned this morning would see a low fog settled on the peninsula, and he was right. I very nearly went back to sleep when the alarm went off, but I’m glad I managed to extract myself from under the sheets in the end. After a few failed attempts from other locations where the midges were biting I eventually settled on this scene, seen from the Conor Pass. The fog stayed around much of the lower ground for most of the day. It’s amazing what difference a few hundred metres can make on such gloomy weather days.
28th August
The Misty Dawn at Barra Liath on another exceptionally calm day. The current high pressure system Ireland is locked in is freakishly good. There has been nearly no swell for a long time, and practically no wind. Two different thermometers recorded a water temperature of twenty degrees Celsius in Ventry a few evenings ago. The forecast shows no end in sight. It’s pleasant, but it all feels a little abnormal. Coincidentally, or perhaps not, the wildlife sightings at work haven’t been quite what would be expected at this time of year either. It’s hard not to marry these two observations, and harder still to avoid going down the rabbit hole of climate change existentialism.
29th August
HBIRL107 going for a deep dive. After a notable absence this month it was nice to see a bit of big whale activity again today, even if this particular specimen is a pretty small one. It has been in Dingle Bay for a few days now but it’s quite elusive, perhaps because of the number of boats, both private and commercial, chasing it around the place, perhaps also because food seems to be patchy. Rather than feeding repeatedly in one area of abundance this whale seemed to be getting only a mouthful or two of fish before steaming off towards another small bait ball. It seemed like a lot of mileage and energy spent for meager rewards, though obviously this is anecdotal observation rather than thorough scientific study. All the same, the lack of obvious feeding activity we’ve seen this month is in contrast to what I’ve become used to seeing in the previous five Augusts I’ve been here. The code mentioned earlier refers to it being the 107th humpback whale on the Irish catalogue of individually recorded animals. A quick check of the records reveals it was in Kerry this time last year too. It’s wonderful to be able to see these animals back year on year. It’s easier to develop a sense of meaning and connection (and therefore empathy) to individuals rather than random animals. Some are very regular visitors, though this year’s poor sightings of big blubber so far have left me wondering where the old reliables such as 17 and 67 are. They certainly don’t seem to be within striking distance of the West Kerry coastline at the moment.
30th August
Autumn is on the air today, with a chill carried on a slight breeze and overcast conditions dulling the sense of summer we’ve enjoyed for most of the last week. I saw my first haws on a whitethorn yesterday evening and went looking for blackberries after work today. The recent sunshine has already ripened many berries. One of these evenings I’ll have to head out with a bucket...
Find Part 19 here