I mentioned in the second of these blogs that conservationists had been feeding the pelicans over the winter for some years to help sustain the colony.
What this meant in practice was that some of the local boats bought fish from the local fishermen which they took out on the lake and tossed to the birds. Probably only about 30-40 birds gathered around any of the boats at any one time, but even though this only represented a small proportion of the total pelican colony, the number of fish going into the lake every day helped ensure the colony's survival over the winter.
On each of the three days that I went out on the boat, the skipper, Yannis, took on board a large box of fish, and as we went out onto the lake, he donned a heavy, long gauntlet on his right hand/arm. I assumed at first that this was to keep his hand warm and dry while handling the fish. However, as things went on, it became clear this was necessary also for protection from enthusiastic pelicans attempting to steal fish from him, and especially to protect him against the vicious barb on the end of the beak.
An ever-hopeful pelican’s beak and the gauntlet!
While the boat moved out of the lake, pelicans arrived and followed it along. Yannis, being right-handed, threw fish out mostly on his right-hand side while steering the boat and the birds seemed to have learned this: more birds were to starboard than to port. Every so often (and there was quite a long gap between throws) Yannis chucked a fish overboard: the instant it splashed into the lake, a lucky pelican which just happened to be within striking distance grabbed and swallowed it before any competing pelicans could get there.
Once in a while, Yannis would throw the fish particularly high into the path of an oncoming pelican which snatched it in mid-air (picture below and opening picture).
Occasionally, the boat would stop in the middle of the lake and after a while, a group of birds gathered around. There was always a lot of competing for the best position among the birds. Typically, a dominant male took up a position close to the boat to get the best possible chance of being fed. There was one particular dominant male I called Mr Angry because he would strike out in all directions at any other bird that came into the space he claimed for himself. Pelicans could be quite vicious when it came to competing for position: their long beaks could be used for both poking and fiercely biting competitors.
Notice the way all the other birds keep a respectful distance from Mr Angry
The birds could be fed by either a low throw directly to one bird, or by tossing a fish up in the air over a group so that the birds competed for it.
Mr Angry gets a low-thrown fish. Note also the low angles of the cameras used by the photographers leaning over the side of the boat.
A fish thrown high, caught in a pouch.
The alternative to feeding from the boat was to feed from the shore. On a couple of afternoons, Yannis brought the boat in to the shore on the far side of the lake and we all disembarked. The birds quickly gathered around the shoreline, while we made ourselves comfy on mats that Sean and Babis laid out to protect us from the sharp rocks that made up the beach. As before, the fish could be thrown to the pelicans to feed them while we got pictures.
Photographing from the shore gave rise to the conundrum of how to handle the camera. The obvious thing to do was to lie flat on one's belly and photograph at a low angle to try to get reflections in the water. The problem I have with this approach is that while leaning on my elbows, it is difficult to point the camera in directions other than more-or-less straight ahead. Over the years, I have evolved an inelegant but, for me, practical way of dealing with this. My preference was to sit on the ground with my legs out in front of me and then with the rear screen flipped out, balance the lens on my ankle. The point here was that the camera was at a very low angle relative to the water, but it was easier to manoeuvre over a wider range of angles than while lying on a belly. Modern cameras with flip-out screens and subject-recognition autofocus were a godsend from this perspective.
One of the tensions with photographing birds being fed by humans was whether or not the birds' behaviour was altered by the process and whether the birds became dependent on being fed. Many photography competitions, as well as societies like the US Audubon Society, discouraged this practice for those reasons. But on Lake Kirkini, this was done for conservation purposes. In the end that I was very happy to have photographed the birds' behaviour while they were being fed, but I probably wouldn't use any of these pictures in future competitions.