Wine Tasting and the Dog that Bit Me

I wrote in an earlier post that we were enroute to the Bukk Hills, the wine-making region of Hungary.  There is a lot of narrative to this blog entry, but I don't want to forget this day and am happy to share it with readers.  It may even help a future traveler to Hungary.

Approaching the village of Voszvaj, we drove by fields of grapevines. All of the parts of Hungary I had seen thus far were beautiful.  But, we had now left the puszta and this area was differently beautiful with rolling hills and vineyards lining the roads.  Look at that stunning blue sky with tiny specks of clouds peaking over the hills in the distance!

After seeing White-backed Woodpecker and following our dash from Bukki Nemzeti Park in torrential rain and after our coffee in the village, the whole afternoon stretched before us with gray clouds seeming full of rain still hanging overhead.  Gerard asked if I had any interest in visiting one of the local wine cellars.  He couldn't promise, but he knew of one where the vintner might be hanging around.  Would I be interested in visiting a Hungarian wine cellar?  There's an easy answer to this question.  Absolutely!  The photo above, with Viktor the vintner in red shirt, was taken as we were leaving - blue sky peaking through scattering clouds - but when we drove up the sky was still heavy with rain clouds.  Gerard spotted Viktor at the front door and exclaimed, "Ah yes, he's here.  Give me a second and I'll just see if he's open."  Of course he was open.  What else was he doing there.

Viktor invited us into a little cave-like entrance that held a table with some empty bottles atop it.  From this anteroom we went down a few steps to a larger cave-like room.  A bare bulb hanging from the ceiling provided our light.  Barrels lined both sides of the small room.  

Earlier Gerard explained to me that the region had a soft rock that was easy to excavate to make these wine cellars and that many were over 100 years old and older.  Viktor was 84 years old and he had inherited his cellar from his grandfather. 

Which wine would I like to try?  White or red?  Without hesitation, my reply, "red."

Neither of the gentlemen above look too happy.  That's Gerard on the left and Vikor on the right.  Viktor unscrewed the cap to one of the kegs on the left side of his cellar and then used the glass contraption that Gerard is holding and placed the long end into the keg and put his mouth at the other end to draw the wine from the keg.  Viktor carefully dripped the wine collected in the bubble of this contraption into a juice glass.  I think you can get a better idea of this thing in the photo below. That's me with Viktor holding both the contraption and my juice glass with red wine. 

Now, here's the thing.  This wine was not just good, but very good. Sure enough, I was on vacation in Hungary and in an old wine cellar being served wine from an old Hungarian vintner.  But the other side to this is that I'm a wine drinker - think that a good evening meal is missing something without wine.   Viktor's red wine was not sweet, nor was it dry - more somewhere in the middle and this made it delightful to drink.  

Since I had liked the red so well, would I like to try the white?  Viktor's white wine was what he was really proud of.  Sure, why not.  He went through the same process drawing the white wine from one of the kegs on the opposite wall.  The white wine was also very good.  This wine would easily be classified as sweet.  At home in the summertime, sauvignon blanc - crisp and citrusy - is my favorite white wine. But Viktor's sweet white wine was so pleasing.  We stood around and sipped the wine looking at things in the ancient cellar.  That black stuff on the wall in the photo above is a fungus called "noble rot."

We moved outdoors and sat on three legged stools so that I could finish my white wine.  Gerard and I, realizing that we were drinking wine in the middle of the day without having yet had lunch, opened little packs of almonds that I had brought from home.  We gave Viktor an almond packet and he opened it politely and tried one, but he didn't seem too interested.  Gerard then wandered off to find a private place and left me, languageless, alone with Viktor.  Then I found out something else about Viktor.  He was kind of a dirty old man.  Nothing terrible of course but I was relieved when I saw Gerard returning. 

Viktor charged us what we both thought a paltry sum for our excellent wine tasting so we tripled this and, after a couple more obligatory kisses, were on our way to fill the rest of the afternoon with birding. 

Sometime later on the trip, as were were passing people in a village going about their daily activities, out of the blue Gerard happened to comment that Hungarians "are not smiling people."  I hadn't paid much attention, but when he mentioned this I could see the truth in it. When I was home again and looking at the photos of our wine-tasting afternoon, I was reminded of Gerard's comment from Viktor's facial expression in the photo above.  It is also observable in the unsmiling Gerard and Viktor in the fourth photo.  Gerard is British, from Liverpool, and is married to a Hungarian and has two young adult sons.  He has lived in Hungary for most years of his adult life.  He would be the first to say that he could never return to live in England.  He is fluent in Hungarian and has probably also taken on this unsmiling approach to daily living.  Then in the fifth photo, look at me - smiling away.  I considered how Americans are always going to take it on the chin when traveling abroad - especially in Europe.  It's evident in my photo.

But was any of this the dog that bit me?  Oh no, no, no, no, no.  

Later that same night, while sitting in the chair just behind the family dog, Gerard and I joined Gabor and Clara, the hotel family's patriarch and matriarch for conversation after dinner.  Gerard has brought many groups to the Nomad Hotel and is well-known to their family.  Their friendship was charming and it was easy to see how fond Gabor and Clara were of him.  I thought they treated him like a son who was home for a visit.  

Out of nowhere came the word palinka.  Mild sounding word. Innocent enough.  With many words in between, Clara exited the table and a few minutes later returned with a gallon jug of clear liquid and three aperitif glasses.  Mind you, not four glasses because, as I quickly realized, she had no intention of staying.  This should have been my first clue.  She handed the jug to Gabor, said a few more words and left.  The jug was half-full with Gabor's home-brewed apple palinka.

"Ah ga shey ga dra" - phonetic Hungarian for to your health was said all around and we sipped Gabor's apple palinka.  Again, ah ga shey ga dra and the three glasses were tipped off.  Gabor was impressed that I could pronounce this bit of Hungarian.  I thought, oh good I'm finally learning some Hungarian.  Then Gabor disappeared inside the house and returned a few minutes later with a bottle of clear liquid with an attractive label and presented this to me.  It was his homemade pear palinka.  I was surprised and a little overwhelmed.  We may have had another tip off or not, I can't remember.  But when I stood to go, I was unsteady.  Oh no.  I clutched my bottle of pear palinka and carefully stepped up the one stair into the hotel.  I wobbled up the stairs to my room.  I managed to enter my room and change for bed.  This is all I remember of those kind of details.

I may have been drunk, my hangover may have started early, but what I remember most is being sick.  Really sick!

The next morning Gerard and I were meeting for our last chance to see perched Grey-headed Woodpecker.  I was too embarrassed not to show up and got out early to sit on the outdoor patio furniture.  I thought fresh air might help.  He didn't say anything, but I thought Gerard was surprised to see me.  We arrived at our woodpecker spot and stayed only a couple of minutes before I told him I was going back. I returned to bed for another blessed hour.  I was a few minutes late meeting Gerard in the breakfast room.  I poured myself a cup of coffee. When Gerard got up for seconds, I asked him to make me some dry toast and I nibbled at this.  Somehow that morning I managed to finish packing, pay my bill, take some photos for memory and say goodbye to everyone.  We got on the road at a reasonable time despite the delay my condition caused.  

We approached a small town with a pharmacy and Gerard mentioned a medication he said his wife swore by and offered to stop for some. I was feeling very peaked and agreed.  He ran into the pharmacy and returned with a box of - wait for it - alka-seltzer.  Just like the old television commercial, I plopped two tablets into a small cup of water and watched them fizz.  Truth be told, I don't recall ever having had alka-seltzer before.  I drank slowly.  By god, it worked!  By late morning I told Gerard that I was feeling better and that I would be okay.  I thanked him for his quick thinking.  Lunch was light, and that evening I ate a normal dinner of catfish and drank coke at the fish restaurant attached to our hotel along the Tiszla river.

You read it here first.  If in Hungary, no matter how many ah ga shey ga dra invitations you receive, beware of the palinka.  There is no American equivalent to this alcoholic beverage.  Later when I spoke with friends and family about this event, I was reminded that the palinka was home-brewed and that its alcohol content could not be measured accurately.  For all I knew, it could have been 100% alcohol.  It seems clear now that my illness was acute alcohol toxicity.  I can advise, with some authority, when you hear the word palinka run for your life.

In the next twenty-four hours I had a couple more alka-seltzer tablets which I found soothing and thought I was fully mended.  Then, on our final night at the Tiszla river hotel and after seeing the female black woodpecker, I ordered another fish meal.  I realized with the first bite that I would not be able to eat.  I tried another bite and knew it was not going to go down.  Not it or anything else either.  The kind waiter was concerned and offered to bring me something else - anything I wished.  With a little head shake, I politely refused.  "No, there is nothing."  "Dessert?"  "No, thank you."  As Gerard finished his dinner, the restaurant manager walked by and commented to Gerard that I was not eating.  Gerard said something about still not being up to snuff after the palinka.  The manager replied that I should then have a little more palinka and Gerard translated for me.  "You know, the hair of the dog ..."   Oh right, we have that saying too.

I packed that night to be ready early for our last birding walk of the trip.  This I surely did not want to miss.  I left Gabor's pear palinka out on the table.  When I went down for breakfast in the morning I carried the bottle of palinka.   The restaurant manager arrived and I went to him and gave the bottle of palinka with its beautiful label to him saying, "the dog that bit me."  Gerard translated this and the manager laughed and happily accepted the palinka.  Of course, he's Hungarian.  He can drink the stuff. 

"To your health" is really this in Hungarian:  Az egészségre.

Fire Salamander

Salamandra salamandra.  I love salamanders, but in truth I've only ever seen salamanders one other time - during an early spring evening field trip to find them.  Then they were mostly tiny things, as I recall three or four different species, coming out of the spring woodland pools for the opportunity to mate.

I've never seen anything like the Fire Salamander.  While looking for the White-backed Woodpecker Gerard found this beautiful little amphibian in the shallow creek running along the roadside.

It was approximately five inches long and a completely cute.  To learn more about it check the blue link above to read about habitat and ecology.  We actually saw it in exactly the kind of place where it might be expected.  

White-backed Woodpecker

After passing a group of school children with their teachers and parents out for a hike in the Bukki Nemzeti Park ...

... we drove on and came nose-to-nose with a huge logging truck hauling large timber out of the national park.  We were entering the park on a narrow one-lane road and this confrontation forced Gerard to reverse for some distance - a difficult thing to do - before finding an adequate pull-in to clear the lane.  The truck driver was not the sharpest knife in the drawer and continued, I thought, with an aggressive advance forward even as Gerard was backing into the pull-in area.  This kind of driving brought an avalanche of words from me - mostly related to what a moron the truck driver was.

For Gerard, who did not like reversing the car under those conditions, the situation brought mostly a volley of words about logging in national parks.  The reason for us coming here was for our target bird which is endangered in many parts of its range, secondary to loss of old forest and intensive forestry methods.

This is the forest habitat we were birding in.  

White-backed Woodpecker (Dendrocopos leucotos) requires mature, old-growth deciduous or mixed forests with much rotten wood, especially standing dead trees.  

We walked along the road and we saw other things; Wren (Troglodytes troglodytes), and the fasting-moving Collared Flycatchers (Ficedula albicollis) at their nest cavity below.  The flycatcher appears to be calmly perched but these birds did not really stop moving hence the dreadful photo.  

  

When we started out the day was bright, sunny and warm.  Once inside the forest it was dark and cool.  Gerard commented that patience was needed to see this bird.  We made a series of stops calling for the bird.   A Great Spotted Woodpecker (Dendrocopos major) flew in to give me a moment of excitement.  On the other hand, I was in no hurry.  Walking through a deep forest is not something I get to do everyday.  It was peaceful, quiet and beautiful.  

We came to an area where darkness seemed to have descended upon us.  Above the trees the sky was threatening rain.  Then, and as if on cue, a response came to Gerard's vocalization and drumming recordings.  A White-backed Woodpecker flew in.       

I took a couple dozen photos of this bird of which these five are the best.  

This bird was so cooperative and thrilling to see.  It flew from tree to tree and perched in the open for long and satisfying views.   White-backed Woodpecker is not an easy bird to find and, because of the relatively specialized habitat, all who search for it are not successful. 

I think the photo above is probably the best of my few poor good photos.  It shows well the bird's long, powerful bill.   

The bird had not lost interest in us yet, but it began to rain.  Before we could get the short distance back to the car the rain fell in heavy drops through the dense forest canopy.  Of all my birding days in Hungary, I may look back and think of this morning as my favorite.

The rain fell so hard and fast that when we drove past the park's visitor center the workers were trying to sweep the water off the flooded patio so that it did not enter the building.  We went to the nearby village and stopped at the cafe in the photo above for a cup of coffee.  The drainage ditches that lined the streets of the village were flooded with fast moving water.

  

Book Review - Woodpeckers of the World: A Photographic Guide

I may be one of the first consumers in the United States to have purchased this book.  My copy of Woodpeckers of the World:  A Photographic Guide by Gerard Gorman, published in North America by Firefly Books and pre-ordered from Amazon, was delivered to me one day during the last week of June and, it seems, about two to three weeks ahead of its originally scheduled publication date.  The European edition is published by Bloomsbury Publishing and has a different cover and a slightly different title.

Cover photo:  Black-cheeked Woodpecker (Melanerpes pucherani)  

I had planned to write a review of this book on my blog; I just didn't know the best place to include the review.  Now having the book in my hands, I don't want to wait too long so I decided it should be between my Black Woodpecker blog entry and my White-backed Woodpecker entry.

You won't find photos like this on my White-backed Woodpecker blog, pp 252-253.

As already mentioned, I spent a week birding in Hungary with Gerard Gorman, the author of this book.  By now I've read completely Gerard's book, Black Woodpecker:  A monograph of Dryocopus martius, published by Lynx, 2011.  This highly readable narrative is a documentation of one woodpecker species that advances our understanding of every aspect of the black woodpecker.  Each chapter is accompanied by one or two well-drawn illustrations and, in the final pages, color photographs and bibliography complete the book.  As I've written, Black Woodpecker:  A monograph ... should be required reading for foresters worldwide as well as conservation groups.

Woodpeckers of the World ... is a true photographic guide.  You will first want to sit down with your favorite drink and slowly turn the pages to savor the photographs used for this book.  Approximately 200 or so photographers are recognized for their contributions on pages 519 - 520.  It's not just that you will want to see the photographs; you will be immediately drawn to woodpeckers you wish to see.  For me there are many, but one - just because my book is open to page 343 - is Crimson-mantled Woodpecker (Colaptes rivolii).  Or how about the Yellow-fronted Woodpecker (Melanerpes flavifrons), p. 117, occupying east and southeast Brazil, east Paraguay and northeast Argentina?  I think I would stop dead in my tracks if I saw this bird.

You will also learn about the status of each woodpecker species in their countries and continents.  For example, South America seems to have the most species of woodpeckers.  Of these, with few exceptions, most of the tiny piculets in the genus Picumnus occupy just a dot on that huge continent.  I was reminded of my trip to Cali, Colombia in March, 2012 where I searched, unsuccessfully, for the Greyish Piculet (Picumnus granadensis), p 86.  Now I know why I was unsuccessful.

Depending on whose counting, there are 239 species of woodpeckers in the world.  Gerard Gorman has seen and studied three-quarters of these.  For example, he's been to the Andaman Islands to see the Andaman Woodpecker (Dryocopus hodgei), p. 395.  That's a woodpecker specialist, and a Brit, for you.  As I write this, I happen to know that Gerard is currently in southeast Arizona to study Arizona Woodpecker (Picoides arizonae), p. 276 and the Gila Woodpecker (Colaptes chrysalides), p. 353.  After a week in Arizona, he will travel to Oregon to study Williamson's Sapsucker (Sphyrapicus thyroidues), p. 154 and Black-backed Woodpecker (Picoides arcticus), p. 291.

The book has a well-organized table of contents and lists each bird by genus.  There are 29 genera of woodpecker and each genus is briefly described.  The range maps are large and well-drawn, though some may challenge our American knowledge of world geography.  Not to worry.  There is also a narrative range description to let us know where that unfamiliar cluster of islands is actually located.

Many [bird] book review[er]s seem to search for at least one flaw in a book and will go lengths to defend their observation.  I don't find flaws in this book. It's not a field guide, and generally I think we have enough field guides anyway.  Rather, Woodpeckers of the World ... is an attractive, accessible and inviting work of scholarship.

Finally, there is something very appealing about a worldwide compilation that you can hold in your hands. You will be awed by spectacular woodpecker species found elsewhere in the world, and you will be proud of those found in your own backyard, no matter where your backyard is located.  All are here and included with equal attention.  There is Michigan, p. 156, nearly fully covered with the ochre-color of summer passage and the Yellow-bellied Sapsucker (Sphyrapicus varius), one of my favorite birds, looking very smart.

I've always liked woodpeckers but they seem to get side-stepped by our migratory new world warblers, tanagers, hummingbirds and the like. Indeed most woodpeckers do not undertake seasonal migrations and the majority are highly sedentary, p. 15.  But, if you bird with Gerard Gorman, you will develop a real appreciation for the Picidae family.  If you read his book, you will too.

In his introduction, p. 13, Gerard writes, "During my research it soon became clear that many species of woodpecker are poorly-known, with questions on taxonomy, biology, behavior, distribution and even existence remaining unanswered."  His book goes to the heart of introducing us to a family of birds, some of which are in our own backyard and most of which we can only dream to ever to see.  

Black Woodpecker

Several times in my prior Hungary blog entries, I've mentioned Gerard Gorman's name as my field guide for the trip.  Gerard was excellent and if you're planning a birding trip to Hungary, he's your man - or should be.  But, there is also much more to say.  A lot of narrative follows, but I think it's worth reading. 

Because I signed up for my trip with the assistance of Yoav Chudnoff, Director of Friends of the Bulgarian Society for the Protection of Birds (FoBSPB), Yoav sent me Gerard's book titled The Black Woodpecker: A monograph on Dryocopus martius, Lynx, 2011.  On my 2011 birding trip to Bulgaria, we did not see the black woodpecker, so I knew this Hungary trip was going to be my best chance to see this bird.

The next leg of our trip was the Bukk Hills, well northeast of Budapest, to the attractive little village of Noszvaj and to our stop for the next two nights, the Nomad Hotel, a charming hotel and campground known for its abundant and excellent food.  This is also the wine-making region of Hungary. More on this in a later blog entry.

Still about a half hour drive from Noszvaj, we arrived at a trendy, updated spa hotel that Gerard described as once having been a run down place with easily accessible grounds for good birding.  Now, post renovation, the grounds were not so easily accessed, but being a weekday it was not busy so we entered the grounds.  We parked at a muddy turn-in across the street and Gerard played the black woodpecker vocalization and drumming sounds.  

Immediately, we had a response.  One more play of the drumming and this juvenile black woodpecker flew across the road from the woods on the side where we had parked to the hotel grounds and perched against a tree.  There were two or three black woodpecker nesting cavities - oval shaped as are our pileated woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus) cavities - in other nearby trees.

Gerard thought that an adult bird might also be nearby but, the time of day being mid-afternoon, none appeared.  He pointed out that birds often take siestas in nest cavities, and on this hot, sunny day he suggested that this might be exactly what was happening.

I managed three poor quality photos and the juvenile flew off deeper into the woods behind the spa hotel.  Having counted the Eurasian curlew as #3, this was life bird #4 on this trip.

We lingered a bit longer hoping for another black woodpecker appearance and Gerard pointed out the large ant hill in the photo above.  In the top photo that's a Hungarian coin I placed on the hill to demonstrate its size.  As soon as I placed the coin, it was attacked by ants.    

In this second photo, you may be able to see the ants; small, red and numerous swarming all over the hill.  At the time, and other than pointing it out to me, Gerard said no more about the ant hill.

Later when reviewing Gerard's new book, Woodpeckers of the World: A Photographic Guide published by Lynx, 2011, on page 18 I found the photograph above, taken by Un-Hoi Jung, of an "anting" black woodpecker.

Secondary to the demands of work in the months leading up to my trip, I did not get to do much more than remove Gerard's book from the mailing envelope and flip through the pages.  I packed it to bring on the trip so that I could have Gerard sign it for me.  The novel that I had brought along for reading was out-of-sync on a birding trip in Hungary and did not hold my interest.  So I began reading The Black Woodpecker: A monograph ...  Well-written, excellent book!  As I read, it seemed that no topic related to this bird and its environment had been omitted.  It occurred to me that this book should be required reading for all foresters and the forestry and conservation organizations that employ them.  

In chapter eight titled Behaviour, on page 77, the practice of "anting" is described.  Many birds participate in anting, but specifically related to woodpeckers, Gerard writes, "Although seldom observed, anting is probably not an uncommon behavior in woodpeckers.  It is not entirely clear what purpose anting serves and no definitive explanation has ever been agreed upon.  The common view is that it is a form of comfort behavior whereby the formic acid and other liquids that ants eject when disturbed act as an insecticide or fungicide that help counter plumage parasites and generally aid feather care.  Certainly, after anting many birds immediately start to preen."  He goes on to write more about anting but for the purposes of this blog entry and my photos above, this is enough for now.

As we prepared to leave, I dared to ask Gerard if he thought it might be possible to see an adult black woodpecker.  He did and, true to form, on our last full day of birding we saw one flying across a large open field, its deep wing beats and strong, non-undulating flight style reminded me of our pileated woodpecker without the white wing patches. 

Later as we were about to call it a day, in the woods that bordered our hotel along the Tiszla river, we wondered in to try for one last black woodpecker sighting.  Gerard played the black woodpecker drumming and on cue an adult female bird flew in.  

Gerard, by now well-acquainted with my habitat of shooting before seeing, reminded me to look at the bird first.  I did and was glad to do so.  Then I got six horrible photos, of which these two are probably the best.

This bird stayed with us for perhaps ten minutes, flying between trees and perching to have a look around, usually on the side of the tree opposite us.  Then, as with the juvenile before, found nothing of interest and returned to the forest.

We headed back to the picnic tables outside of our hotel restaurant.  It had been a long day of great birding and Gerard deserved a tall, cold beer.