Hooptedoodle #500 - Oddie Man Out?

 I am sorry to note that Bill Oddie, entertainer and birdwatcher, has died. I confess I did not know a great deal about him, I found his TV persona in his later years a bit cute for my taste, but he was a major contributor to the popularity of birdwatching in the UK, and the author of two very good books on the subject which we have handy on our kitchen dresser, so overall he was a good guy, and I certainly offer my respects and regret at his passing.

That's really all I wanted to say about Mr Oddie - I am sure that there will be many tributes elsewhere.

Mention of him and his birding interests reminds me of a very silly old story about my Dad, from years ago. My father could become unreasonably obsessed over things which he personally found interesting, but he treated other people's interests (and abilities) in a dismissive sort of way. For him, birdwatching was somewhere in the middle; he found the birds themselves quite diverting, but disliked what he regarded as the "sort of people" who typically spent their time in the field studying the things. Especially, of course, if their expertise dwarfed his own.

The story, then. Because of some of his other personal characteristics, he, my mother and my handicapped sister, every year for maybe 10 years, used to take a holiday in a very isolated cottage on the Isle of Gigha, which is somewhere near Kintyre (if you care). I saw many of his photos, and heard at huge length how the place was idyllic, being almost completely deserted; strangely, you might think, my exposure to this has resulted in my never having had any wish at all to visit there, though I'm sure it's lovely.

The particular incident in the story must have taken place some Autumn in the 1990's. My dad went out for a walk on his own, to the next bay, while my mother and sister prepared the evening meal. While he was walking along, in his big boots and ancient waterproof jacket, armed with his enormous ex-Russian army Zeiss-rip-off binoculars, he suddenly found that there were thousands of very large brown birds sitting all over the sand hills on the next bay. It is likely that they might have been Pink-Footed Geese on an Autumn migration - I wouldn't know.

He was very impressed by the sight - it was getting too dusky for a photo, so he watched them for a minute or two, and then clapped his hands, loudly, twice to watch them fly away. Then he discovered that many dozens of people in strange outdoor clothing were rising to their feet from behind gorse bushes, sand dunes, clumps of coarse grass; some of them were shouting, some waving their fists, all  of them were very displeased, and a few were heading his way. It seems that many enthusiasts come to this isolated spot at this time of year, in the hope of seeing this life-affirming event.

He must have been having an unusually sensible day; he scarpered, round a headland, and eventually got back to the cottage, a bit late for supper. To be fair about it, he used to tell this tale at his own expense ever after, while my mum rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Oops.

A further digression follows. In those days Gigha was privately owned. The owner of the island was reputed to be a bit eccentric, and he used to manage the letting of the cottages himself. One year, in his desperation to ensure he managed to book a cottage in August or September, Dad contacted the owner (by letter, of course) around February time. The owner wrote back, very politely, and thanked him for his repeat business, but explained that he was not intending to open the holiday cottage books until the beginning of April, so he would get back in contact when that happened. He also assured my dad that he would be allocated a cottage in August.

Dad couldn't cope with not having the deal finalised, and fretted about it (driving my mum bananas, of course), and then started sending weekly letters to the owner, demanding that a formal booking be completed NOW. This went on for a number of weeks (the number varied, depending whom you asked), until the owner sent another letter - still very polite - saying that enough was enough and that my Dad and his family were now permanently off his customer lists.

Oops.

The geese and the birdwatchers were probably quietly pleased. The Isle of Gigha was later the subject of a Community Buy-Out financed by National Lottery and the Highlands & Islands Enterprise. I have no idea where the former owner now spends his own holidays.