My Last Atlantida Is Going Down
Wildlife is always closer than you think
I undeservedly ignored this place for a long time. I knew there were some ponds, and I tried to reach them once. I saw an enterprise (obviously with angry dogs) and turned back. Only in the previous year did I find a footpath to bypass that enterprise. Thus, I got one more favorite place.
I showed it fragmentary in my monthly records from Vinnytsia. But today, I’ll dedicate the whole article to it, especially to its inhabitants, whom I met on three trips in June and July.
I’m talking about a pond cascade on the Vyshnya River between my hometown, Vinnytsia, and Berezyna village. I heard the name “fish farm ponds” about them but can’t say precisely because the farm is farther away. However, they’re prevalent among fishermen. The ponds are made strangely: not at the riverbed itself but in parallel to it.
The most magical time is early morning: no fishermen yet, and birds are active. The curfew took away my opportunity to see sunrises in nature in summer, but I look like an addict without that and will die because of lack of sleep on one wonderful day.
Anyway, walking there is pure satisfaction.
But I promised to show feathered inhabitants despite their reluctance to pose for the camera. In this aspect, it’s easier to see water birds.
Most probably, you’ll see great crested grebes. They were exotic to me not long ago but are ordinary in this place. Thanks to this, I saw how they hatch eggs — they make a nest like a floating island.
And the nestlings themselves. While tiny, they ride on their mothers’ backs and funny copy all their moves.
In one of my photos, I didn’t immediately notice that a mother had caught a fish to feed her child.
They always stay away from the shores, and my camera’s zoom can’t provide quality at such a distance.
“You will catch such a fish one day!”
Only once did I manage to catch a small great crested grebe from a close distance. It looks like a floating zebra, and its stripes allow it to hide among water ripples.
June and July are attractive because of the ability to watch how quickly nestlings grow. Here, swans are fluffy and cute:
And here they are already small copies of their parents.
Swan families ideally suited one “grizzled morning” when a light haze hung over water despite drought and heat.
Adult swans are beautiful as well, either on water or in the air.
Local ducks aren’t similar to those who live in a park. First, they have more children; second, they are wild. Park ducks got used to people. But these made incredible noises when I approached.
Eurasian coots are much more calmer.
And those who precisely don’t like to show themselves to people are herons.
Master of disguise:
I have often encountered white and grey ones, but I saw a purple heron for the first time here. It was even better disguised in reeds, so I took only one photo.
Their silhouettes are well knowable in flight:
For a long time, I couldn’t reach the farthest ponds (they are long, so the footpath is too). Finally, as might be expected, more rare birds were waiting here. Not without a bit of luck: I saw many of them once, but nobody in a few later tries.
They were common pochards. A boy is bright with hypnotic red eyes; a girl is grey but still cute.
Also, whiskered terns. These workaholics carried prey for their kids non-stop, but it was hard to catch them in flight.
The last (sixth) pond was the least interesting in the birdwatching context: it was just an open water mirror easy to access from the village, which is why there were many cars and fishermen. However, I met this beautiful tree frog on its shore.
There are many ordinary frogs, obviously and always. You can easily see who is the boss between them:)
It was much more challenging to notice birds that hid in trees and reeds. All my walks were supported by their incredible songs, but the singers preferred to remain invisible. It is a garden warbler, I guess:
Common chiffchaff or greenish warbler? Google showed different results for different photos of a single bird.
I knew that bearded reedlings lived there but couldn’t find them and had never met them. Only on the last walk was I lucky enough to quietly approach a flock that did the most typical thing for this species — ate reeds.
In Ukrainian bearded reedlings are called “baleen tits.” As you can see, they didn’t have neither beards or mustaches:) Because they were young birds born this year. Only adult male birds have “mustaches.”
But even these impressions were overlapped by acquaintance with something bigger. He sat with his back to me, which is why he missed my approach.
With Google’s help, I know it was the marsh harrier. But then, I could only be mesmerized and take photos silently. I had seen predator birds in nature before, but I never could look at them so long and so close.
Finally, he noticed me and flew away. There were even two birds, but I caught only one in flight.
It would be unfair to ignore other creatures living there. Of course, there are a lot of fish — not by chance, it is the fish farm ponds. Sometimes, whole shoals floated almost at the surface.
How about insects? A bug on a rosehip is half-transparent.
And generally, when you don’t rush, it’s easier to notice tiny pleasant details under your legs.
When spreading their wings, peacock butterflies look like exotic flowers, but then — clap — and this is only an inconspicuous black leaf.
Dragonflies were circling over the water.
Not only over the water, though. I tried to catch this one on a wheat field behind the ponds. My camera didn’t want to focus, and gadflies sat down on me from all sides. Unity with nature isn’t always about something beautiful; sometimes, it’s about burning bites on all exposed parts of the body. I didn’t stay in debt and killed almost all the gadflies that attacked me.
But mainly, I went to the field to take photos in the colors of the Ukrainian flag.
It would be wrong to think that collecting photos of birds is easy. Free and wild creatures aren’t glad to see people near them, so most of these photos took me a lot of effort and unsuccessful tries. But I’m not complaining — this time-spending is the best rest for me.
If I’d met all the ponds’ inhabitants in one day, it would be no reason to revisit them. But they gave me something new every time, in small portions. It’s the closest place to my home where it’s worth saying “travel” but not “walk,” my National Geographic, my last Atlantida, which is going down.
I know the potential for wildlife in this artificial place on the injured river. I only saw (without a chance to take photos) Eurasian penduline tits, a kingfisher, a dice snake, and even a fox, and I heard much more — some unknown creatures partially recognized by Merlin on my smartphone.
Although I don’t know why I need this — I don’t have an appropriate camera or eyesight for qualitative birdwatching. I can’t even force myself to read about birds (it would be easier to find bearded reedlings knowing their way of life). And the main thing is that I never have enough time and patience.
But in the end, all of this has ceased to matter. It seems I can’t return there for a long time. There are many personal reasons, and it wouldn’t be correct to blame something one, and I’m not ready yet to tell about everything in detail.
Once I put together my thoughts, I could probably tell, at least to me, how it happened that my endless world had been squeezing to a black point, and I was only watching from the sideline. Silently degrading and saving myself in viewing photos, to be honest, that is fucking needed by nobody except personally for me as a reminder — sometimes, taking them, I felt happy.
Once, I’ll explain why lilies have become my most essential flowers since this cursed year.
If you don’t want to miss out on my new stories, you can subscribe to updates on my blog. If you appreciate my photos or stories, you can buy me a coffee.
