Wednesday Weed Revisited – Lantana

Lantana camara

Dear Readers, when I was in the Azores last week, it felt as if every second open space was festooned and draped with Lantana, one of the IUCM’s 100 Worst Invasive Species, though a particularly pretty one.  This designation puts Lantana right up there with Japanese knotweed and the malarial mosquito, so it’s not a good sign. The battle against Lantana has been a long one, as you’ll see from my 2019 post below, and the plant is particularly destructive when it colonises an island full of delicately-poised endemic species, such as the Azores or (possibly even worse) the Galapagos. This is, however, a very interesting plant. Have a read below and see what you think. 

Dear Readers, anyone who has ever visited a tropical butterfly house will have come across lantana. There are about 150 species, but the one that’s mostly seen is Lantana camara, otherwise known as Spanish Flag. It comes in a wide variety of colours – the orange one shown above seems to be the commonest. The flowers change colour as they mature, leading to multicoloured umbels – in the plant above they varied through apricot to tomato-red, with the lighter-hued blooms being the ones that have not yet been pollinated. There are many, many varieties, including the rather more demure one below.

One thing is for sure: these plants are a butterfly magnet. They form part of a genus of 150 different species in the Verbena family, and are native to tropical regions of the Americas and Africa: I saw Lantana growing wild when I was in Costa Rica. A wide range of butterfly and moth species feed on the flowers, especially swallowtails and birdwings, skippers and brush-footed butterflies such as the glasswing butterfly (Greta oro) of Central America, shown below.

 

Photo One by By Eddy Van 3000 from in Flanders fields - Belgiquistan - United Tribes ov Europe - the wings-become-windows butterfly., CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3479928

Glasswing butterfly (Greta oro) on lantana (Photo One)

Furthermore, the seeds of lantana are loved by birds, and herein hangs a tale. Lantana is considered a noxious weed in many parts of the world where it has been introduced, notably Australia, South Africa and some parts of Asia. It has also become naturalised in the warmer parts of North America. Because the leaves of the plant are toxic to herbivores, most grazers and browsers won’t eat them (and become sick if they do). Meantime, the birds eat the berries and distribute the seeds in their droppings. Among the species that eat the seeds are the superb fairy wren (Malurus cyaneus) of Australia;

Photo Two by By JJ Harrison (https://www.jjharrison.com.au/) - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12075434

Male superb fairy wren (Malurus cyaneus) (Photo Two)

and the endemic Mauritius Bulbul (Hypsipetes olivaceus)

Photo Three by By Josh Noseworthy - Mauritius Bulbul, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36538595

Mauritius bulbul (Hypsipetes olivaceus) (Photo Three)

In Australia, lantana has become so prevalent that various insect controls have been tried in order to reduce its vigour. Of the thirty species introduced, some have become problems in their own right. The rather handsome Mexican lantana bug (Aconophora compressa)  was brought to Australia in 1995, in the hope that it would munch its way through the plants that it was named after. Alas, the lantana bug has extensive and varied tastes, and has eaten many plants that were not supposed to be on the menu, including the popular ornamental trees fiddlewoods (also from the Americas), which are related to lantana. The case of the lantana bug led to much greater testing of the appetites of proposed bio-remedial species: this insect was tested with 62 species to see if it ate any of them, but fiddlewoods were not included.

Photo Four by By James Niland from Brisbane, Australia - Lantana TreehopperUploaded by Lymantria, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24777384

Lantana bug (Aconophora compressa) (Photo Four)

Photo Five by By Vinayaraj - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27369697

Ornamental fiddlewood (Citharexylum spinosum) (Photo Five)

So, lantana continues to run riot in many parts of the world where there are no pests to contain it, though I was cheered to hear that the swamp wallaby (Wallabia bicolor) is one of the few mammals that can eat the leaves without keeling over.

Photo Six by By jjron - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4022225

Swamp wallaby (Wallabia bicolor (Photo Six)

I was also happy to hear that in some places in Australia, lantana is actually increasing biodiversity. In urban green spaces, it provides nesting cover for birds such as the fairy wren in the absence of native species that will do the same thing, and so provides a refuge for these attractive little birds to reproduce. Urban areas are not pristine habitats, as a brisk walk around East Finchley will show: we have plants from all over the world here, and the insects and birds take advantage of the longer flowering period and range of different microhabitats. It’s a very different thing in an endangered habitat. As Stace says in his book ‘Alien Plants’:

In disturbed native forests, Prickly Lantana can quickly become the dominant understorey species, disrupting succession and decreasing biodiversity. At some sites, infestations have been so persistent that they have completely stalled the regeneration of rainforests for more than three decades‘.

A plant out of its own habitat, without the native pests that keep in check, can quickly become an environmental disaster. Plus, lantana produces chemicals in its roots that check the growth of other plants. In areas with cold winters, the plant doesn’t survive, but if I was planning on growing it, I would choose one of the sterile varieties that are available that don’t produce fruit.

Photo Seven by By RickP 12:16, 3 May 2006 (UTC) - Own work, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=753347

Lantana growing in an abandoned citrus plantation in Israel (Photo Seven)

Lantana leaves have been used medicinally for a wide range of complaints, including malaria, tetanus and rheumatism. They are also believed to be efficacious in cases of snakebite. In India, where lantana is particularly invasive in mountain regions, local people have been making furniture from the plant, as it is considered a good substitute for traditional materials such as bamboo. Because of the toxicity of the lantana, the furniture is also not eaten by termites and beetle larvae. In an IUCN report, it indicates that using lantana in this way has increased income and productive work days for the villagers who are involved. The problem now is a shortage of people with skills to create the furniture.

Photo Eight from https://tudelft.openresearch.net/page/15576/15-lantana-furniture-siruvani-india

Lantana furniture (Photo Eight)

Now, have a look at the image below and see if you can guess who it’s by.

Photo Nine from damienhirst.com/tithorea-harmonia-in-lantana

Photo Nine

At first glance, I thought it was a photograph, but subsequent research revealed that the image, called ‘Tithorea harmonia in Lantana’ from 2009-10, is actually a faithful reproduction in oils of a photographic image. And I was very surprised to find that the artist was Damien Hirst. Of this series of paintings that aim to reproduce photographs, Hirst says;

“I want you to believe in them in the same way as you believe in the ‘Medicine Cabinets‘. I don’t want them to look clever, but to convince you. I’m using painting to produce something that looks like a bad quality reproduction – the painting process is hidden as it is in my work ‘Hymn’, which looks like plastic, but is bronze underneath.”[2]

Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised: Hirst has long been fascinated by butterflies and other insects, and has used them extensively in his art. Usually, it hasn’t ended very happily for them, as in the image below, where real dead butterflies are stuck onto gloss paint (to be fair, I believe that Hirst acquired them when they were already dead).

Photo Ten from http://www.damienhirst.com/for-boys-and-girls

For Boys and Girls (Damien Hirst 1989-92) (Photo Ten)

To me, his relationship with animals has always been strictly functional – he uses them to prove a wider philosophical point, as in his famous piece ‘A Thousand Years’, where maggots hatch, feed on a cow’s head and are killed in an Insect-o-cuter. Another exhibit at Tate Modern in 2012 featured live butterflies who hatched, flew around and died, next to an exhibit of the gloss paint and dead butterfly paintings. And then, of course, there was the shark.

Photo Eleven from http://www.damienhirst.com/the-physical-impossibility-of

‘The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living (1991) (Photo Eleven)

It’s interesting how Hirst has gone from being the Enfant Terrible with the shark in a tank to someone who reproduces photos in oil paints, but he has never been afraid to experiment and to change. I suppose that his early work, in particular, is difficult to ignore – I saw his ‘Mother and Child Divided’ in an exhibition in Oslo in the ’90’s, and found it both fascinating and deeply distressing. For me, he sums up everything that is wrong with our attitude to the rest of the living world; everything is there to be plundered and used for our entertainment. But for others the fact that he raises these questions is part of his appeal. He has always been polarising: for some, the most interesting of the Young British Artists of the 1980’s, for others a cynical showman. I would be very interested to hear what you think!

Photo Twelve from http://www.damienhirst.com/mother-and-child-divided-ex

Mother and Child (Divided) (Damien Hirst 1993)(Photo Twelve)

And finally, a poem. I can’t tell you how much I love this work by Grace Paley, especially her evocation of ‘sadness and hilarity’. I know exactly how that feels, having been alternately laughing and weeping for most of the past six months.

I went out walking
in the old neighborhood

Look! more trees on the block   
forget-me-nots all around them   
ivy   lantana shining
and geraniums in the window

Twenty years ago
it was believed that the roots of trees
would insert themselves into gas lines
then fall   poisoned   on houses and children

or tap the city’s water pipes   starved   
for nitrogen   obstruct the sewers

In those days in the afternoon I floated   
by ferry to Hoboken or Staten Island   
then pushed the babies in their carriages   
along the river wall   observing Manhattan   
See Manhattan I cried   New York!
even at sunset it doesn’t shine
but stands in fire   charcoal to the waist

But this Sunday afternoon on Mother’s Day
I walked west   and came to Hudson Street   tricolored flags   
were flying over old oak furniture for sale
brass bedsteads   copper pots and vases
by the pound from India

Suddenly before my eyes   twenty-two transvestites   
in joyous parade stuffed pillows under   
their lovely gowns
and entered a restaurant
under a sign which said   All Pregnant Mothers Free

I watched them place napkins over their bellies   
and accept coffee and zabaglione

I am especially open to sadness and hilarity   
since my father died as a child   
one week ago in this his ninetieth year

Photo Credits

Photo One by By Eddy Van 3000 from in Flanders fields – Belgiquistan – United Tribes ov Europe – the wings-become-windows butterfly., CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3479928

Photo Two by By JJ Harrison (https://www.jjharrison.com.au/) – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12075434

Photo Three by By Josh Noseworthy – Mauritius Bulbul, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36538595

Photo Four by By James Niland from Brisbane, Australia – Lantana TreehopperUploaded by Lymantria, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24777384

Photo Five by By Vinayaraj – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27369697

Photo Six by By jjron – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4022225

Photo Seven by By RickP 12:16, 3 May 2006 (UTC) – Own work, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=753347

Photo Eight from https://tudelft.openresearch.net/page/15576/15-lantana-furniture-siruvani-india

Photo Nine from www.damienhirst.com/tithorea-harmonia-in-lantana

Photo Ten from http://www.damienhirst.com/for-boys-and-girls

Photo Eleven from http://www.damienhirst.com/the-physical-impossibility-of

Photo Twelve from http://www.damienhirst.com/mother-and-child-divided-ex

 

Lovely News From East Finchley

The climbing hydrangea

Dear Readers, now that the dust has settled, the salt-caked washing is restored to cleanliness and the feeling that I’m still bobbing about on the ocean has gone, I finally turned my attention to the garden. Look at the climbing hydrangea! It’s finally achieved its ambition and reached the top of the original house, whilst simultaneously reaching out for the broad expanses of my neighbour’s white-washed walls. Fortunately they don’t mind the plant, otherwise there would be several of us debating who was climbing up a two-storey-tall ladder. But anyhow. As I was having my breakfast, I noticed a little flurry amongst the flowers, and then a robin headed up towards the top of the hydrangea with a mouthful of leaves. I suspect that a pair of them are making a nest tucked right up in the corner here, maybe even under the lead flushing.

Here’s one of the robins, eyeing me up as I try to discreetly photograph him/her out of the bathroom window.

I’ve seen young robins in the garden on many occasions, so clearly they’ve found a variety of places to nest. It’s perilous around here, though – at one point the squirrels were investigating this very spot, but I’m hoping they’ve returned to their old drey at the top of the whitebeam. I’ve heard magpies but they aren’t nesting here this year, though by the way they’re forever getting agitated about the crows I suspect they can’t be far away. Anyhow, keep your fingers crossed for these little ones, as they beaver away.

The flowers of the hydrangea are just about to open – the white flowers are sterile, but the little ones in between are full of pollen, so that attracts all kinds of bees and hoverflies.

And in other news, as I watched the robins a blue tit shot out of the nest box on the balustrade just above it. I’m hoping that eventually the hydrangea will grow over it and give it a bit of cover, it looks very noticeable as it is. No wonder the parent birds don’t hang around.

And finally, the yellow flag is out! In truth it’s a bit too vigorous for the pond, but then I seem to be surrounded by plants who don’t know that they’re not supposed to be as big as they are, so that’s nothing new. And I’d rather have something a bit boisterous than a delicate little soul who can’t deal with the challenges of a shady, damp north-facing garden. And yes, in spite of taking out the pendulous sedge that seems to have made itself at home again too. This is what happens when you travel for most of April and May – you end up chasing your tail for the whole summer. Never mind. Robins nesting, blue tits feeding youngsters, bees buzzing! I’m a happy woman. It’s great to be home.

Azores Day 10 – Home Again!

The volcano on Pico island

Dear Readers, one ferry ride and two planes later and here I am, home again to a bright sunny day, and news that I just missed seeing the aurora borealis over East Finchley. Damn! Well, I’ll just have to go to Iceland to see it instead. The garden is a jungle, but it’s so nice to sleep in my own bed again, though the cat has been celebrating my return by singing to me continually since day break.

I didn’t manage to post any video of one of our last sightings before I came home – there was a huge pod of Risso’s dolphins that were jumping and playing all around the rib boat. These are the most delightful blunt-headed dolphins – the babies are born grey, but dolphins are quite competitive, physical creatures, and every time an animal gets a bite, it leaves a white scar that doesn’t return to its original colour. As a result, adult males in particular look almost completely white, meaning that they are very visible under the water. Apologies to anyone prone to seasickness 🙂

Well, by now you’ll have gathered that taking photos on an RIB boat with 15 other people bobbing about is not an easy task, but I hope to post a gallery of rather better photos from some of the sharp-shooters in the group in the next couple of weeks.

So, some last thoughts.

  • If you’re prone to seasickness and are planning on going whale watching, Stugeron seems to work for most people without making you feel too drowsy. I was really glad that I had some, though I didn’t need them myself.
  • And on that subject, it’s always worth taking a few more painkillers/seasickness pills/stuff for upset stomachs than you think you’ll need, because even if you don’t need it, someone else will.
  • If you have a dodgy back, sit towards the back of a RIB boat on any occasion (even one of those trips that they do up the Thames) – it might not be quite as exhilarating, but your vertebrae will thank you.
  • There are no toilets on an RIB boat (or at least there weren’t on ours) and you can be out for five hours. Worth thinking  about if you have a bladder complaint.
  • The sheer generosity of the portions of food on the Azores was amazing, and it was great value for money once you got there.
  • If you go to the Azores, I recommend the whale watching company that we used, CW Azores. They took great care of everyone (and bear in mind that our group was probably twice as old as the usual demographic) and they are very respectful of the whales and dolphins.
  • I fell in love with the Cory’s shearwaters  so I’m going to make a donation to the Portuguese Society for the Study of Birds – our guide Lara works for them, and they are doing amazing work for birds both on the Azores and Madeira, and on the Portuguese mainland. Although the Azores is working towards sustainable tourism, we still have to travel by plane to get there, and the boats all use fossil fuels, so this is one way of trying to offset the environmental damage and to repay the kindness and care of the people that helped us have such an amazing experience.

Azores Day 9 – Flukes!

Sperm whale diving on our last day

Dear Readers, by the time you read this I will hopefully be back in East Finchley, and I am writing this on our last evening in tearing haste. I’m sure I’ll have more thoughts about the Azores once I’ve dealt with the massive pile of salty laundry that’s in my suitcase, but for now, let’s just be glad that I finally managed to take a photo of a big male sperm whale heading down a kilometre or two to munch on some giant squid….

Humpback whale diving

And that on our final day we also saw a humpback whale, and s/he was very obliging on the fluke front too.

So wish me luck with my ferry/plane from the Azores to Lisbon/flight from Lisbon to Heathrow/taxi home!

Azores Day 8 – Cory’s Shearwaters

Dear Readers, it’s not all about the whales you know – Cory’s Shearwater is the bird that you’re most likely to see at sea. We often saw them resting in great rafts, eventually lifting themselves into the air when they saw the boat approach. The way they ran a few steps on the waves before gently lifting off was very endearing.

Cory’s Shearwater breeds only in the North Atlantic, with the Azores, Canaries and Madeira being their main breeding grounds. The fascinating thing is that at sea, these birds are completely silent, but last night we went to visit the rocky outcrops and cliffs where the birds nest. For most of the year they range widely over the whole Atlantic, with different birds following different migration paths, some reaching as far south as Patagonia, others veering off towards the UK and even Madagascar. However, the birds are monogamous and find one another at their nesting site every year, where they raise one fat, fluffy chick. They all leave in the autumn, and the one-in-ten of the chicks that survive will return to their original nesting ground.

What is truly remarkable is the sound that they make as they come into land at the end of the day. The male and the female have different calls, but each bird is unique, and their call helps them to find one another. Sometimes they’ve just been fishing separately for the day, but sometimes they are finding one another after months apart (the pairs often have different migratory locations). I have never heard anything like it. See what you think. You won’t be able to see the birds, but you’ll certainly be able to hear them. For some reason it made me cry, and laugh, simultaneously. Each recording is slightly different.

Sadly, a big problem for Cory’s Shearwaters is the increasing level of light pollution, and a campaign to encourage the turning off of unnecessary lights has been waged in the Azores and the other Atlantic islands. Sadly it doesn’t seem to be working that well on the island of Faial, right opposite where the birds I heard are nesting. We found two downed and disorientated shearwaters just sitting on the road as we made our way back. Fortunately we were able to shoo them back towards the rocks (and hopefully they’ll sort themselves out at day break) but you can see what a problem it will be when the chicks fledge. Let’s hope that more places learn to turn the lights off.

Azores Day 7 – Fin Whales!

Dear Readers, we were of course delighted to see shedloads of sperm whales and several pods of bottlenosed dolphins today, but for me, the big excitement was a close encounter with a pair of fin whales. These are the second largest animals on earth after the blue whale, with a maximum length of 85 feet long. That little fin that you see on the back is a long, long way back on the whale’s body (see the image below) so, just as with an iceberg, what you see above the surface gives you no real idea of the size of the animal below.

Image from The International Whaling Commission athttps://iwc.int/about-whales/whale-species/fin-whale

One way to identify a fin whale is by that unusual asymmetric colouration on the lower lip – it’s white on the right side, and dark on the left side. We couldn’t see it clearly from the boat, but some conservation divers who are collecting data on the whales of the Azores managed to spot this distinguishing feature.

Fin whales really are built for speed – known as ‘the greyhound of the seas’, it regularly maintains speeds of 25 m.p.h, with bursts of up to 30 m.p.h. The two that we saw were not in a hurry but were still moving at a fair pace.

When we first saw the whales we thought that they might be blue whales, until we saw the distinctive lip colour. However, fin and blue whale hybrids do occur as their ranges overlap and clearly their customs and genetics are close enough to produce viable (though probably sterile) offspring. We know so little about these extraordinary animals.

When underwater, these whales are distinctly blue, which adds to the confusion.

Well, seeing these creatures made my day, and seeing a whole host of sperm whales only added to a great day. My back is aching from all that bouncing around on the RIB boat, my hair looks like Crystaltips from the children’s cartoon and I’m caked in a fine layer of salt, but it’s completely worth it. Only one more day to go before we head home, so let’s see what tomorrow brings…

Crystal Tipps and her dog Alistair

A whole gang of sperm whales (all male)

Azores Day 6 – Whales and Dolphins!

Sperm whale

 

Dear Readers, today dawned bright, sunny, and, most importantly, calm, and so at 9.15 we all donned our life jackets and got (very carefully) into our RIB boat for several hours at sea. Getting into and out of an RIB can be tricky when you’re older and stiffer, but the captain and crew could, I’m sure, manoeuvre a baby elephant into position without too much trouble, so we are all easy by comparison. And once on the water, off we go, and quickly encounter our first sperm whales.I think I’ve explained before that the resident sperm whales here are a group of females with their calves and juveniles, and they’re occasionally visited by the males. The females grow to about 36 feet long, while the males grow to about 52 feet. The babies are 13 feet long at birth. The young animals stay at the surface while their mothers dive to eat the squid that forms the main part of their diet – they can reach depths of up to 2km in search of them, which is even harder when you think that sperm whales are naturally very buoyant animals. They have various mechanisms that protect them from getting ‘the bends’ when they surface, but if they come up suddenly (for example if frightened by one of the undersea explosions much favoured by navies around the world) they can still be killed by the sudden change in pressure. Fortunately the whales around the Azores lead largely peaceful lives, with the biggest excitement likely to be the visit of a testosterone-fuelled male.

Anyhow, as sperm whales don’t make for the world’s most exciting photos, here instead is a little video. You might want to grab some seasickness pills first.

 

And we were visited by some more common dolphins, and again, here they are in action…\

On the way back we had a quick look at the island of Faial (where we arrived on Saturday). Below is the old lighthouse of Faial, badly-damaged in the earthquake of 1998. Nowadays it’s been replaced by a tiny little light.

Lighthouse on Faial

And below is theChurch of Nossa Senhora da Graça on the coast of Faial, the island opposite Pico where we’ve been staying. The churches of the Azores have a very distinct style, and are usually plastered white with details in darker volcanic rock. Most of the doors in Pico are either green or red, and this seems to be the case in this church too. It was also badly damaged in the earthquake of 1998, but has since been repaired.

Well, Readers, that’s all for now – we have another trip out in about twenty minutes, and some of us need to top up our suntan lotion. I shall report back!

 

Azores Day 5 – Wind!

The vineyards of P:ico

Dear Readers, the weather looks set fair for lots of whale-watching trips from Wednesday onwards, but today, although it wasn’t horizontal rain, it was way too choppy, so we settled for some more Azorean culture. First up was a trip to the south part of the island. We stopped off at a windmill (this one was used to grind corn) and to admire, yet again, the drystone walls that surround each little group of vines.

Azorean windmill

There are a lot of semi-natural bathing pools – some are just as nature intended, plus hand rails and changing rooms, and some have been helped along a bit by the repositioning of rocks. Some of the group are quite keen to give them a go, but let’s see how everyone gets on.

Natural bathing pool

I might have noted before about the tamarisk trees, which are African but have very high salt tolerance, and so have been planted everywhere. They’ve been pollarded and shaped in a very drastic way. There are lots of pollarded London Plane trees too.

Pollarded tamarisk trees

There was a huge storm here in 1893 which wiped out an entire village (of which more later), and here there is a shrine to Santa Rita, the patron saint of lost causes (my friend J gave me a token for the saint which I carry around everywhere, so I was delighted to see the saint here).

Many of the houses are built of the volcanic rocks, and the local sparrows were nesting in the tiny gaps between the stones.

Then we headed to see a village that was completely destroyed in the storm of 1893. On the way, though, I spotted the endemic euphorbia of the Azores. I must avoid becoming a complete plant nerd but, apart from the marine life, the plant life of the Azores is extremely interesting, being such a mixture of endemics, aliens and a whole bunch of invasives. We passed fields full of Lantana, and hedges wreathed in Morning Glory.

Azorean Euphorbia

 

You make your way down a very narrow, rubbly path. There’s a Cory’s Shearwater burrow…

At the bottom of the path you can see the remains of the village, now studded with ferns.

On the way back we came across this pretty thistle, which is native to Spain and has somehow gotten to the Azores via the Canary Islands and Madeira.

Purple milk thistle (Galactites tomentosa)

And then it was on to the Whaling Museum. Whaling was a big part of the Azorean culture and economy, petering out in 1984. The whales would be spotted from special watchtowers on the coast, and when a sperm whale was seen a firework would be sent up. The local whalers (who all worked at other things to supplement their paltry income) would jump into their boats and be towed out to the vicinity of the whale, before making their final approach by rowing up the whales.

An Azorean whaling boat from the museum at Lajes

The whale would be harpooned, but this was just to keep it close to the boat. The panicked whale would dive, but when it resurfaced  it would be repeatedly stabbed with lances, sometimes over a period of hours, until it died. Then it would be towed back to the village by the motor launches, to be cut up and for the whale oil to be sold. It was a brutal, bloody business, and so upsetting that several people had to leave the short film that we watched. It makes me wonder if some of the whales that we see now can actually remember when their kin were hunted. Sperm whales were hunted in particular because they’re much slower and more buoyant than most other whales, and also because they floated when dead. I am only glad that now the spotters look out for whales so that people can watch them respectfully, and that this is now how the islanders make a living.

Some of the scrimshaw (drawings on whale bone and whale ivory (usually from the teeth) was the most beautiful and detailed that I’ve seen anywhere.

Some whale bone was even turned into toys, like these doll beds and cribs.

And so, it’s hard to think about what used to happen to the whales that we’ve travelled so far to admire and enjoy, but it’s also important to remember how hard life was here, how cut off people were, and how difficult it was to make any kind of living. Plus, the Azoreans are working hard to make their tourism industry sustainable, and they no longer hunt whales, unlike Iceland or Norway or the Faroe or Lofoten islands. It gives me hope that things can change, even a cultural tradition as deeply embedded as whaling in these distant, rocky islands.

And tomorrow, fingers crossed, I’ll be able to report on some more whales. The weather looks set fair for the rest of the week, the wind is dying down, and I for one am raring to go!

Azores Day 4 – Rain…

Dear Readers, as the Azores are stuck in the middle of the North Atlantic it’s no wonder that the weather is changeable and today it’s ‘blowing a hooly’ as my Scottish pals would say, along with a spot of horizontal rain. So, no whale watching, but we did have a few expeditions to explore the culture and history of the Azores. It’s always good to put things into context, and to be honest I wouldn’t want to be stuck in a RIB boat in this weather, plus the swell is something else.

So, first up we went to the wine museum. The Azores used to be famous for their wines, but, as with many other places, the vines became infected with dusty mildew and phylloxera, and had to be removed back in the nineteenth century. However, recently viniculture has made a comeback – Pico in particular has rich, volcanic soil, and the unique method of growing the vines has been given a UNESCO designation.

What’s so special about Azorean wine? Firstly, each vine is grown in its own little cell, made up of volcanic walls in a way that’s very similar to drystone walls.

Model of the volcanic rock walls used to grow vines

The walls protect the vines from the wind and rain, but more importantly from the salt water. However, it means that the vines grow very close to the ground, which makes them very labour-intensive both to prune and at harvest time. This means that Azorean wine is extremely expensive – while you can get a bottle of mainland Portuguese wine for less than 5 euros, the average price of a bottle of Azorean wine is closer to 25 euros. Nonetheless I shall see if some of my fellow travellers want to share a bottle later in the week, so that I can report back. The things I do for my Readers!

Furthermore, some of the grapes are turned into the Azorean version of grappa, a highly distilled spirit. It reminded me most of the time that I shared a cup of methylated spirits with a homeless man called Joe when I worked at the night shelter in Dundee. Actually that’s a little unfair, but it’s strong stuff with a lingering fiery quality that makes me think instantly of heartburn. it comes in many flavours, which might help to offset the effect.

The Azoreans also make a wide variety of different gins. Dad would have approved.

The old distillery

And then it was on to the geology museum – the Azores, as I’ve mentioned before, are on the edges of no less than three tectonic plates, so they regularly have earthquakes (in fact you can download an Azores Earthquake app), and in 1998 the neighbouring island of Faial had a major earthquake which killed 10 people and left 2500 homeless. Anyhow, here in Pico they have embraced new technology in the museum sector, so first of all you can sit in a circular cinema and experience a journey to the centre of the earth. Who knew that being surrounded by molten iron at the earth’s core would be so painless? I did get a bit of a sweat on, though, which hopefully helped to evaporate some of the dampness from my wet trousers.

The pod of geology

Even more excitingly, we then got to experience an earthquake, wearing VR goggles and standing on a shaking platform. 23 seconds (the length of the first earthquake( can seem a very long time when you’re in what appears to be a welter of falling masonry. It was the first time that I’d ever used VR goggles, and they were pretty cool, so I guess I’m Down With the Kids now.

The wobbly earthquake simulator

Anyhow, Readers, I am writing this and it’s only 14.38 – later this afternoon we’re off to see some lava tubes, and you can read all about them here. If I get a chance, I’ll report back later in the week – the weather still looks a bit dodgy tomorrow so we might still be whale-less, but I’m sure there will be something else to see. Anyhow, I’ll keep you posted!

Azores Day 3 – Whales!

Dear Readers, today we actually managed to get out into the North Atlantic to look for whales. We’re travelling in RIB boats (Rigid Inflatable Boat), which means that you bounce across the ocean on what feels like a bucking bronco. I sit in the less desirable seats at the back (largely because I have a dodgy back) which means I don’t get walloped quite as much as the boat climbs the waves and then crashes down again. It’s all rather exhilarating.

Sperm Whales!

My main reason for wanting to come to the Azores was to see the sperm whales – there is a group of females and juveniles who are resident here all year round, making them relatively easy to keep track of. We saw probably about 15 whales during two trips, and on several occasions we saw females with calves who appeared to be feeding – sperm whale mums produce a very thick, fatty milk which doesn’t immediately wash away in the water, so you can see the calves diving down to feed and then bobbing up again. The females sometimes feed a calf that isn’t their own, a behaviour called allosuckling, which is extremely rare – apparently the only other mammals that do it are feral cats and African elephants (and occasionally humans).

I just loved seeing them. What extraordinary animals they are! My photos don’t do them justice, but I thought it was more important to just sit and take in the experience. I suspect that some of the other people on the trip might have some great photos, so hopefully quality might improve later.

We also saw a pod of common dolphin, probably about 100 in total – they were showing mating behaviour (one dolphin rolls onto its back as an invitation) and there was a lot of jumping and tearing around. These dolphins have a pale yellow patch on their side, and are smallish creatures, fast and elegant.

Common dolphin (Photo by By Mmo iwdg – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10262057)

And finally we saw a Portuguese Man O War. It’s not actually a jellyfish, though it looks like one – these animals are siphonophores, a colony of different organisms. It has a nasty sting, which is mainly used to kill the fish that are its prey. They can also cause severe pain in humans, and apparently the treatment is immersion of the affected part in water at 45 degrees for 20 minutes, which sounds pretty uncomfortable to me! A Portuguese Man O War looks so much like a plastic bag that it’s no wonder that turtles are munching on plastic bags by mistake.

And now, dear Readers, I am off to bed. It’s been a long day of bouncing about, and that, combined with the sea air, is definitely turning my thoughts towards sleep. More tomorrow!