Storks and Co.

As I was saying. You go out and look for one thing and find another. If you’re lucky you might find what you are looking for and then something extra. That’s what happens when I go out to the wetlands (or anywhere, for that matter). I may have expectations, but they are not carved in stone. Mainly I want to be out in nature, in a beautiful enviornment, breathing freely, facemask tucked away in my pocket, and hoping to find something to photograph. In that regard, I am rarely disappointed.

So, a week or so ago I was out there in the wetlands looking for the storks. And I found them, of course, since it is nesting season and they are mostly at home in those big nests of theirs. 

But the storks weren’t alone.

These horses -- a special breed that thrives in wetlands, imported some years ago from the Camargue -- often graze in the field adjoining the stork village.

And then again, in a nearby pond, there were the ducks.  

But the ducks weren't alone.

And neither was that flamingo.

Stork Village

 

On a visit to the wetlands in early February I found a colony of over two dozen white storks. February is when they return from Africa to Europe to nest. But at least part of this group stays all year, as you can see a fair number of them in the park during the fall and winter.

Storks are monogamous but do not necessarily mate for life. It’s sad to think that those same birds that bring our babies also get divorced. They will use the same stick nest for years although outside of breeding season the nests are empty even if the birds are around. I wonder, if a pair gets divorced, who keeps the nest? 

When I saw them in February they looked like they were freshening up their homes and maybe laying eggs. The female will typically lay about four. There was a constant to and froing, birds flying every which way and returning to the nest.

A return would set off a great clattering of beaks. I heard the racket before I even saw the birds and thought there was some kind of farm machinery running nearby. 

The nests are close to each other and the colony looks like a little village in the trees.

And then, in a nearby pond, there were the ducks. Lots and lots of ducks. Many dozens of ducks. If the storks made a village, the ducks made a town. Were they parents with children? It seemed too early for that and I saw only adults paddling in the water. Although they can make their nests on the ground, they usually choose covered spots in the brush. These were out in the open, most of them resting on the small islands in the pond. 

Anyone Home?

I stopped going to the aiguamolls (wetlands) late last year because there wasn’t any water and hardly any birds. But I missed the landscape and the birds so in January, after a rain, I headed back to see if anyone was home.

I found the pond had some water and there were a few birds, mostly ducks and a few coots and seagulls. But to my surprise, look what popped out of the forest! That’s life. You look for one thing and find another.

They wasted little time being out in the open. 
In a minute they had disappeared.

Coots

Sant Quirze de Colera

My friend Josep is one of those people with ants in his pants. He is never happier than when he is on the road – small side road, never the major motorway. With him there is no shortage of destinations as he knows every nook and cranny for miles around, including the nearby southern part of France. His problem now is that that cute little Smart sports car of his is in the shop after he had a wreck. It’s been there since before Christmas because it is a challenge to find parts for a rare car. Which is why, these days, he is willing to ride in my plebeian cart and for me to do the driving.

The other day the ants must have gotten the better of him, for he asked me if I had ever been to Sant Quirze de Colera, probably guessing that I had never even heard of it. A medieval monastery that sits in its own small valley in the foothills of the Pyrenees is something one does want to see.

You get there by driving down a small local highway that has no number, and turning onto another even smaller road that turns into a dirt road. Not to worry. If you go slow enough and watch out for the large holes and big rocks, you’ll be just fine.

The ride was lovely. At the road’s end, in a small valley sat this spectacular 12^th century romanesque complex: church, cloister, monastery, and a separate parish church. The original benedictine community settled there at the end of the 8^th century; the original church was built in the 10^th. Already in partial ruins, in 1592 it was closed and in 1598 it was sold and was turned into a farm. It remained in that family until 1994. Sitting within the town limits of Rabós, the family then ceded the property to the town.

The parish church of Santa Maria

Cloister

Church of Sant Quirze interior

When we Americans think of a building being old, we think 200 years. In Europe, those numbers are very different, but people here take it for granted. Our apartment in Tarragona looked out at the old Roman wall of the city. It was built in the 2^nd century B.C. The church of Sant Pere, here in Figueres, just celebrated it’s 1000^th anniversary. For that matter, Josep’s family has lived here for many generations. On his mother’s side, the family comes from Vilajuiga, not far from Rabós. The name means Jewish town and his mother used to always say (or joke) that the family is probably Jewish. That is probably even more intriguing than a medieval monastery sitting in the foothills of the Pyrenees.

(Photos taken with my cell phone)