Month: April 2021

Kevin And The Ostrich Of Death.

Full credit to Kevin Broomberg for writing this down, sending it to me, giving me permission to publish it, and putting up with my simplistic edits.

When I grow up I want to be an ostrich.

Here in the urbancrows e-rookery we get a lot of comments about the blog. Granted most are spam bots, or messages from lonely ladies in Russia offering me pictures of themselves au naturale if I just click on a link (which is very nice of them), but every now and then something I write attracts real comments from what I believe are real people. Strangely, I got the most comments after I published the “Field Dump” story, which either 1) tells us something about the human obsession with the act of coiling a rope, or 2) highlights a worryingly low level of maturity in geologists’ humour. Or perhaps both.

To date, I hadn’t received a comment that was compelling enough to make me want to publish it as a full post. They’re mostly short anecdotes, or nice feedback that might add texture to a story, but they lack sufficient detail to make the cut.

That changed the other day thanks to my new mate Kevin Broomberg in South Africa. Kevin’s note pushed all the right buttons for me. He spun me a tale about what happened to him and a few colleagues when they met a rather ornery 8ft tall death chicken. The ripping yarn included dangerous wildlife with nasty big claws, misplaced avian sexual desire, and a remote field camp -how could I not publish it? The only thing missing was zombies (which I wasn’t able to write in to the tale, try as I might.)

Full Patch Death Chickens looking for trouble.

So, with his permission, a few of his photos and a bit of editing, here’s his true story about a randy ostrich that made life very difficult for Kevin and his crew. Full credit to Kevin for this piece. I’ve done some editing but it’s 99% his work. Sadly, he tells me all the photos he had of this poultry incident (sorry) were fried in a shipping container which baked in the sun for 4 weeks during a move from Dar es Salaam to Johannesburg so we’re having to make do with whatever pictures we could find.

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Polar Bears Are Nasty Buggers

Credit where credit is due. A huge thank you upfront to my friend and colleague Dave for a) suggesting this great story, which he first told me years back, and b) writing it all down coherently and engagingly so that I -with the minimum of work- could turn it into a blog post. Despite my natural tendency to add in some humour, this is a true story, even the swearing. At the time it was terrifying and gave him nightmares for years after. He tells me that this post is in lieu of therapy, which really means he’s too cheap to pay the hourly therapist rate but will never admit it. PS. Did I mention the swearing? Yes, there are bad words below.

We’re Lucky.

Field geologists – lucky souls hand chosen to do God’s work- contend with a lot of wildlife. We hike, bang rocks, hike some more, eat lunch, watch cute critters: all very National Geographic. But the reality is somewhat more sinister. There’s payback for being so perfect. God put bloody great targets on us; huge red letters etched into our skin that spell “Eat Me” to anything that flies, slithers or walks.

A group of geologists & their camp manager.

Most of the wildlife we come across may be small, but it’s blessed with an unnatural hunger for blood. Midges, blackflies, mosquitoes and horse flies are just a few of the myriad blood-crazed flying bastards that can and will torment you -stinging or ripping off chunks of flesh until foaming insanity takes hold. You don’t see them coming but you’ll hear them, whining away like a mini Luftwaffe, hunting that small piece of skin; the one that’ll swell up into a red, volcano-sized pustule, oozing fire and pain. Nothing protects you. You can shower in DEET, wear a stupid net over your head -geologists’ lingerie- and envelop yourself in burning gasoline but it won’t help.

A geo wearing lingerie.

Working in the Middle East, I got off lightly. Sure, there were bugs, but all the large animals that could do any serious harm were shot for fun or eaten years back. We did come across snakes, scary tortoises, nasty looking spiders and the odd tick that latched onto the dark, dangly places only medical specialists have any interest in. But honestly, the biggest threat came from the enormous Kangal dogs bred to protect sheep from wolves, which -luckily- were usually in the company of a nice, sensible shepherd.

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