Wake up in the Morning Feeling like Bee-Ditty: On Birding and Beeing in Igdir

Sometimes, work is hard – even when you are doing exactly what you love exactly where you need to be. But everyone has those days, when you are trying to make lemonade and as you are walking back from the manav (fruit stand), your lemons fall out of your bag and all of the little kids on the street start kicking them around the block. It’s no one’s fault. The universe is just politely telling you, “take a break.”

In these moments, I happily revert to my alternate life as a part-time summer volunteer with Kuzeydoga. Kuzeydoga is a Kars based environmental organization founded by conservation prodigy Cagan Sekercioglu. KuzeyDoga’s work in the region is substantial, from establishing new bird preservation sites, to rallying together local communities to track, monitor, and protect the region’s animal species. My success and happiness in Kars would not be possible without the incredible community of bird people, bear people, wild cat people, plant people, and bug people that KuzeyDoga attracts, supports, and inspires.

Spring and fall are KuzeyDoga’s busier months because of massive bird migrations throughout the region. During this time, KuzeyDoga opens the birding stations in Aras (Igdir) and Kuyucuk (Kars) and volunteers from across Turkey, and many other countries, venture to the stations to catch, tag, and release birds. So when the universe tells me, “time to take a break,” I nod my head, board a bus, and head to Igdir to do some birding.

Allow me several random pop cultural references. If bumper stickers call Austin Texas weird, I would like to deem Igdir as wacky. Igdir boosts both Turkey’s tallest peak (Agri Dag or Ararat Mountain, 5,137 m/16,854 ft) as well as a subtropical fertile micro-climate that is the mini equivalent of Turkey’s Cukorova, or the US’s northern Florida (an average of 700 m in altitude). As a result of its heat, mineral rich soil, and strangely low altitude, Igdir grows produce for its less fertile and colder neighbors, ie. Kars in the north and Agri/Iran in the south. Igdir also borders Armenia and Nakhichevan to the east, and if you turn on the radio you will hear local Kurdish, Azeri, and Armenia stations (the Armenian ones endlessly blast US pop-music). Indeed, Igdir is a wacky potpourri of surprises.

As an American transplant to the region, I add my own rendition to the mix: wake up in the morning feeling like bee-ditty, grab my mud boots, off to the border I’m going to wave to Armenian. Before I leave to the field with a birding bag, I turn on Yerevan FM where Keisha’s got my backkk….I’m talking feathers in my nose nose, bird poop on my clothes clothes… You get the idea, and if you don’t, click here.

Igdir may be wacky, but working at the birding station is a delight. Sleeping in a village, waking up at 5 am, breathing in the salty warm valley air of Tuzluca, and holding all varieties of interesting regional bird species is like a neti pot for the soul. We the volunteers swim in the Aras river, we tromp through mud to check the birding nets, we play card games with small containers of Nutella, we make fun of my Turkish, we play Eastern Turkey versus Western Turkey futbol (go Karsspor!), and we observe owls beneath a million stars.

Whether working on Wall Street, finishing a PhD or trying to launch a honey venture, as human beings we can throw ourselves so passionately into our work that it feels like there is nothing else. You don’t want to take a break, because you have work to do! But sometimes plunging your efforts into something else is just the inspiration and perspective you need to reach greater success in the area of your main focus. In my case, that new perspective belongs to the ARI KUSU – ie. Merops apiaster, or the European Bee-eater, a bird species I came to know well at the Aras birding station.

Regional beekeepers claim that Bee-eaters are an enemy of bee populations, with every bird eating up to 250 bees a day. According to local legends, Bee-eaters work in small teams to wipe out entire hives. First several Bee-eaters will wait in a nearby tree while one Bee-eater taps its beak on the top of a hive. Immediate, the bees leave the hive to investigate the noise, and seeing the fleeing Bee-eater, they begin their chase. Then the other Bee-eaters, that were waiting in the tree, will swoop behind the unsuspecting bee population and devour them.

Bridging the birding and the bee worlds, I can see why beekeepers fear these birds (although I find it unfortunate that they shoot them) and I can see why Bee-eaters are also such a treat for a birder. For starters, their beautifully colored plumage and important role in a local ecosystem is compelling. Particularly because Igdir has a severe wild bee problem (and note, wild bees eat Apis mellifera, ie. honey bees), I can’t help but think that ultimately these Bee-eaters play an essential role in controlling the local wild bee populations, therefore helping honey bees in the long run. I believe that the saying goes “the birds and the bees” not, “the birds or the bees” for a reason.

After synchronizing my sleep schedule with the sun, kissing some birds, getting sufficiently dirtier, and scoring some goals for Karsspor (KARSSPOR!), I always leave Igdir a little happier and readier.

* My endless thanks goes to KuzeyDoga, for setting an incredible precedent for the region, engaging young biologists and nature lovers alike in caring about the beautiful environment of Turkey’s Northeast. I also have to thank them for providing me with a unique family of peers, dreamers, and activists during my stay in Kars.