Chomped into non-existence

I’m back in the cold wet UK. From the hot dry Bonaire. My month there sped by. As I knew it would. I am now however well informed on parrot problems, Caribbean island deforestation problems, how to build log trail steps, how a composting loo works, how to make seed bombs, and rats diet preferences.

The parrots of Bonaire have declined in number due to:
– Habitat destruction. This goes back to the 1800s when Europeans helped themselves to all the nice trees. Little saplings that would have ordinarily replaced these were chomped into non-existence by the non-native donkeys, goats, pigs and chickens that were let loose. Less of the nice trees meant less food for parrots and also less nesting sites. The Yellow-shouldered Amazon parrot makes it’s nest in deep cavities. Deep in big old tree trunks or caves. Various organisations, including Echo, are putting back these older tree types. Which hopefully, will once again provide food and eventually nest sites too.
– Illegal pet trade. This is still a massive problem. The parrots are taken as wee chicks from the nest. Parrots actually make bad pets. Too intelligent. Too long life expectancy. Too bored. Too possessive. They belong in the wild with other parrots.
– Non-native bees. The African honey bee has hit Bonaire. They swarm and spread rapidly. How do they affect parrots? They steal parrot nests. Which there are too few of already.

Well I still don’t have my next job. So where to next? I head to Malta tomorrow for a week. More volunteering.

Sent from my Sony Xperia™ smartphone


About Olivia N Masi

From art college drop-out, to office space-planner, to back-packer, to air stewardess, to brolly babe, to model agent, to wildlife conservationist. How? I've always believed in jumping at every opportunity that comes my way. This has taken me along some bizarre career paths. None of which I regret. I have been to amazing places and met fascinating people. And having worked in the motor sport industry I've sadly experienced too many beloved friends take one adrenalin step too many. I think of them always. I've hung out with pop-stars, sports personalities, and millionaires. I reached a point when nothing but VIP would do. And then something happened. My pops passed away and I felt the need to reconnect with my Italian side. Whilst in Italy, I learnt to be resourceful, to recycle everything, to listen to the valley, to grow my own veg, to catch and tame feral cats, and to follow my heart. My heart led me to a desire to save this beautiful Earth, and all the wonderful life upon it. And so I read, and then I studied with the Open University. I suddenly found myself accepted on a BSc in Wildlife Conservation, having left school with pitiful qualifications. So here I am. A qualified Wildlife Conservationist. A scientist I suppose. I love nothing more than to listen to birdsong, and watch, learn and photograph wildlife. So here is to me getting the perfect job where I can contribute to saving one of Earth's beautiful species. Do I miss the glamour of the old life? The VIP lifestyle? The petrol-head adrenalin? The buzz of being a successful business owner? Only occasionally. Though it seems more like the distant dreams of a previous life.
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