Brazilian Doves

During October; Sao Paulo State, Brazil --

The other day I posted a description of the maturing life of a dove chick and its mother. Over about the same time period I had the opportunity to film a pair of wild doves of the large (25-30 cm) variety, together with several wild doves of the more common, small (10-12 cm) variety feeding on corn scattered for the chickens at Sao Carlos.

Now I want to show you both kinds in one frame so you can see for yourself the large differences in their sizes and markings. The large dove has the blue, horizontal bars on its neck on either side (an "authoritative" book on Brazilian birds shows these bars as red!). The smaller dove has three dark patches on each side on their wings.

Now we begin a new, exciting  tale  for which I introduce to you a mother dove of the small variety, sitting on a nest in the extremely convenient location of Adelaide's garage! This mother is sitting on just one egg, approximately two or three weeks into incubation, so we may be blessed to watch as this happy event as it proceeds to hatching, feeding and maybe even fledgling!

More sightings, more adventures, ... LESS foolishness [but my back is healing!!]

Story of a Brazilian Dove

18th-21st October; Sao Carlos vicinity --

A large Brazilian dove chose to make her nest in full view of the residents (all male) of the second level of the Tennis Club dormitory. At first as I viewed her, she sat as motionless as a statue, turning her head neither to the right nor to the left -- not even blinking her eye!

It was said that she had chicks, and one of the residents told of watching her feeding them early one morning. So the next morning I crawled out of my nice, warm bed [wait a minute! it is so hot down here that one usually lies on top rather than in one's bed], at the first indication of daylight. This was about an hour before sunrise. I could barely see her sitting on the nest -- unmoved since the night before, as far as I could tell.

 

As I waited and watched, she never left her nest; finally, as the appointed time for breakfast arrived, I abandoned my vigil until later. However, when I returned an hour or so later, she was still in the same position; my opportunity to watch her feed her chick(s) seemed doomed.

The next morning I was pleased to see that she had reoriented herself. I also got a short video of her movements as I made various noises to attract her attention and/or curiosity. The chick (now I could identify that there was only one) also moved for a better look at the "noisemaker".

Later the third day, the chick was sitting virtually side-by-side with its Mother. Also notice that the Mother dove's crop appears less full than in the earlier morning photo; she apparently had fed her chick and I had missed the event. 

Near sunset on this third day of my observations, I noted a rather alert, neck-outstretched posture by the mother and chick. What was going to happen next, I wondered.

Sure enough, the next morning (day four) I was greeted by an empty nest! I had missed the fledging event of the young chick.

Such is life.

Big Fish Stories from the Teles Pires

October 12, 2012; On the Teles Pires River, Brazil --

One of the trophy fish to catch on this river in the north-most area of the Brazil state of Mato Grosso, is the Giant Catfish. A silhouette of one is depicted on a viewing platform overlooking the river in front of the main resort building. On this third day of our fishing adventure, our guide set out to let us try to catch one or two of these monsters.

As was my usual method, I had Mora prepare my Salmon mooching rod for action. After a long wait (Catfish generally loll around on the bottom awaiting any morsel that may come their way), I detected a tug on my 8 1/2 foot fiberglass rod. This soon gave way to a determined pull that was the signal for me to spring into action. After a few minutes of cranking on the big Penn reel, with some give and take in competition with whatever was on the other end of my 80-pound test line, I finally brought to the surface the fine specimen shown here. [Uncle Bob took these portraits of this handsome brute.]

Happy with this catch, I soon had my outfit back in the water and within minutes was rewarded with another definite "fish-on!" signal by the lively action of my mooching rod. This time the guy on the other end of my line was much more determined to stay on the bottom! Uncle Bob took a movie of major portions of my several-minute battle; at times my pole was bent a full 180 degrees as I fought to keep the fish from diving deeper (he did anyway!). In the end, the fisherman won and Mora lifted the biggest fish of our trip into the boat.

This guy was probably five feet long and weighed about 60-80 pounds; so big that Mora suggested that Bob and I sit side by side to hold him across our two laps. This was most appropriate also because of Uncle Bob's generosity in inviting me to go on this fishing trip in the first place and offering to pay all of my expenses. Also because he is my brother, with whom I have shared so many other exciting and wonderful adventures.

I was so tired after "cranking in" these two big "cats" [and still hurting in my back from my earlier misadventure] that I kind of lost interest in further fishing for the moment and laid back cross-wise in the boat to rest. However, my moment of repose was soon interrupted by the fish shown here, which insisted on having its picture taken with me.

This was one day of fishing when I didn't have to talk about the "big one that got away".

Fishing the Teles Pires

October 9-15; On the Teles Pires River, Brazil --

Our guide with one of the many "small" Catfish we caught. 

Our guide was a good-looking, dark-skinned Brazilian named Mora; I'm pretty sure that he caught more fish than Uncle Bob and I combined. He was very skillful in maneuvering a special clamp onto the lower jaw of each fish, as it was brought alongside the boat, to bring it up for view and photos. He met us each morning at about 0600 after our breakfast at the main resort.

Mora prepared our fish lines with appropriate hooks (monster #00's I think!), and bait. The bait was sometimes a cross-section of a 2-3 pound fish body, or a live bait fish resembling a dark-colored Candle-fish. The former was used when we were seeking Catfish and the latter when we were fishing for the faster fish, such as the Corvina or what I called the Wolf-fish. Usually I used my 8 1/2 foot Salmon "mooching" rod to fish for the large fish, preferring its lively action to the stiff spin-casting rods that the "natives" seemed to prefer. The stiff rods were able to bring the big ones "to bay" more quickly,  but weren't as much fun in the process.

A batch of Corvina that we had for supper on this day.

Corvina were a fairly lively fish to catch, weighing about 4-8 pounds; fighting more like salmon than the sluggish but powerful Catfish. The Corvina were the only fish that we kept to eat later; all others were "catch and release", although I thought one Catfish would make a pretty good meal for a large family gathering!

The most unusual fish we caught was what I call the Wolf-fish. Its distinctively long lower canine teeth made it look fearsome! [I didn't take the chance to be bitten by one!] It was also fairly active to hook, jumping and cavorting for a bit like a trout or salmon. The Wolf-fish that we caught weighed about 6-10 pounds.

The most unusual and unexpected catch was some kind of freshwater ray. We hooked two of them during our time fishing; each of them were hooked near their tail, presumably because they swam over our bait that was resting on the bottom where we were fishing for the Catfish.

But the grand-prize game fish that I anticipated having the most fun catching was the ledgendary Peacock Bass -- the Tucanare, in the native language. This fish was noted for going after noisy surface lures, "tearing up tackle", biting through leader, etc. -- according to the information I gleaned from Google before I left Seattle. I had made a special trip down to "Linc's Bait and Tackle Shop" on Rainier Avenue near Jackson street to get steel leader material and surface lures for my 8 1/2 foot Carbon-fiber flyrod that I was sure would gain the attention of these wily game fish. I was "loaded for bear" -- or so I thought.

The first day of fishing down-river in a prime bass-fishing spot, the Tucanare slammed viciously into my surface lures, but either refused at the last moment to take a bite, or were clever at being able to spit it out when they found it had no nutrition. Well, I did hook one; he made an impressive leap and tore up the surface of the water heading "out to sea" -- before taking that lure with him. Darn!! [The end of my leader indicated that my knot tying on the lure had failed.] All subsequent casts with more-carefully tied-on lures failed to attract the slightest attention from this wily species.

Uncle Bob's monster 10 lb Tucanare on an artificial lure

Grumpy's one, lone Tucanare on flyrod

I may have caught one Tucanare on my flyrod, but basically I got skunked!! [I look forward to telling Linc about my experiences when I return to Seattle.] I was proud of mine -- until Uncle Bob caught this one (about an 8-10 pounder!), using a spin-cast underwater lure! And he was getting a strike or catching a fish on just about every cast! So much for the "noisy surface lure" myth! Our guide added insult to injury by catching one after another on a lure that he concocted on the spot, using red and white yarn tied to one of those great big hooks. [Reminded me of some of the lures Great Great Grandpa Z used to catch large-mouth bass, back in Haakon County. Sometimes he would snip a tuft of long black hair from his Cocker Spaniel to add to the mix!] 

I made a major mistake when I caught my lone Tucunare on the flyrod: Being the proud, self-reliant guy that I am, I stuck my index finger in his mouth, intending to lift him out of the water in the manner I usually picked up large-mouth bass and medium-size trout. As soon as my finger and thumb clamped down on his lower jaw, he bit down and proceeded to wiggle vigorously, thereby severely lacerating my finger.

More real big fish stories in my  next post.

"Roughing it" at the Fish Camp on the Teles Pires

October 9-15; On the Rio Teles Pires, Mato Grosso, Brazil --

We flew from Sao Paulo to Alta Floresta via commercial airline ["TRIP"], having taken the excellent intercity bus from Ribeirao Preto, arriving in late morning the 9th. We were met  by our favorite "shade tree" aircraft mechanic Tony Rossini, a pilot friend of his and the local agent for the fishing resort at which we would be staying for the next six days. We were driven in a decrepit old reconstituted school bus to a small dirt runway airport where we boarded a Cessna 182 for the thirty-minute flight to yet another dirt runway carved out of the jungle next to the Teles Pires river. A short ride down an bumpy, muddy road in an ancient Land Rover brought us to a jewel of a resort on the banks of the river.

Our cabin (Chalet #3, one of about two dozen aligned perpendicular to the walkway in either direction) was at the end of a 150-foot long covered walkway which had a native palm leaf thatched roof -- which did a pretty good job of keeping most of the rain off the clients. Our cabin had four twin beds, of which Uncle Bob and I chose the two furthest from each other [a sharp contrast to the way we shared a double bed when we were kids growing up!].

The cabin included a bathroom (shower, lavatory and flush-type commode -- with a seat!) and air-conditioner. If my back hadn't hurt so bad, I could have really reveled in this kind of "hardship"!

The main entrance comprised a large thatch-roofed building containing a dining hall and a large industrial-type kitchen with adjoining rooms for supplies. The dining room was furnished with a large screen TV, a Windows-XP desk computer and a couple soft couches for the "potatoes" to lounge in while watching soccer and "ultimate boxing". A kitchen staff of two or three provided three nourishing (generally too salty for me) meals a day, at 0530, 1230 and 1900. Two table servers were present at each of the meals that Bob and I ate there. At times when other clients were present there may have been one or two more servers. At any rate we were never left waiting or wanting for more of this or that!

What a life! But let's go to the next post to hear about the fishing.

A Belated Update to the Misadventures of Grumpy

Beginning October 4th, 2012; In Brazil --

I departed Seattle 20 days ago. What has kept me from keeping my BLOG up-to-date in all this time? I will tell you --  but not show you -- in this sad tale today.

I arrived with Uncle Bob in Ribeirao Preto on the 5th, after an overnight flight from Chicago to Sao Paulo, then on another flight, to Ribeirao Preto. It was late in the day (four hours later, Brazil time!) and, after greeting Adelaide, we went straight to bed.

A couple days later, we took the Intercity bus down to Sao Carlos to check out the tennis club/school. While there, Uncle Bob and I decided to "escort" a couple 10-11 year-olds into the adjoining jungle. Deep into the jungle is a lively stream following a channel about 8 or ten feet wide and about 4 or 5 feet deep. And occasional log or twisted tree trunk affords one a reasonably easy way to cross to the other side. [Don't ask me why it always seems "necessary" to cross! It just is!]

Several years ago, on a similar "safari" with some teenage and sub-teenage girls from the tennis school, Grumpy had demonstrated the quick and proper way to cross a stream in the jungle: Grab a vine and swing across! At that time, Grumpy weighed 15 or 20 pounds more than he does today,  but had no problem negotiating the stream two or three times by the "vine transit".

This time, however, the vine that Grumpy chose had a kink in it that weakened its tensile strength! Grumpy tested the vine, confirming its secure grasp onto a tall tree 100 feet or so above the ground. The far bank of the stream was a good 15 feet away, as Grumpy leaped forward to propel himself across this chasm. As my body, with legs outstretched in front of me for the anticipated landing on the other side, approached the nadir of my swing (maximum stress now being applied to the vine), the vine broke -- at the kink -- and Grumpy plopped 6-8 feet down onto his rump, into the stream! The impact of my tailbone on the firm surface of the stream bottom was apparently sufficient to fracture my #1 lumbar vertebrae. But worse than that were the muscle spasms that occurred whenever the nerves that signal a fracture were triggered! To ease the spams and inflammation (for some time I thought it was only a sprained back), I started with Aspirin every 3-4 hours (two 325mg that I had brought along; later with 600mg Ibuprofen).

On the 9th (a day or two after this incident) we left to go fishing in the northern part of Mato Grasso state. This was a primary reason for this trip to Brazil, and I wasn't about to let a little pain [well, it was more than just "a little"!] get in the way. More on the fishing trip in another Post.

We returned from the fishing trip on the 16th; Grumpy was now taking either a 600mg Ibuprofen or a 500mg Aspirin each 3 to 4 hours to deaden the pain. On the 18th Uncle Bob wanted to go to Sao Carlos; I told him I would rather go see a Doctor about my back -- I was now suspecting something more serious than a back sprain.

Uncle Bob made an appointment for that very morning to get an Xray and diagnosis in Sao Carlos. The Xray [of which I have the film] showed what the Radiologist said was a "Fratura Antiga?" [that's Portuguese for "Antique Fracture, maybe"]. I was greatly encouraged by this diagnosis in that, since I could recall no time in my life previously when I had injured my back, I interpreted this as indication that I had a fracture which was in the process of healing! And so I have continued a regimen in which I refrain from any kind of actions or contortions that may damage the healing break.

Grumpy has determined to examine the vines more critically next time!