Balloons on the Bosphorus

I wrote this about a year ago. Recently, I haven’t had much time to walk on the Bosphorus, but have glimpses of the water every day as I walk down the hill to the bus stop.


My main source of exercise is walking on the Bosphorus, and about that I have no complaints. Usually, I take about an hour to walk from Emirgan to Bebek or farther, or Emirgan to Yenokoy. Granted, I dawdle. I have some kind of ADD that makes me gawk at jelly fish and trash swirling in the water, or shellfish packed in double layers on sea moss coated rocks. Lately, since the weather has been nicer, a few enterprising men have set up long strings of balloons on the water. They then sell hairy macho men the chance to shoot BB pellets at the balloons and show off to their girlfriends who either don't seem to care or giggle. The numbers of little old men pushing carts of packaged sunflower seeds and big round sugar wafers have increased.

Lately, my primary obsession is the birds on and around the water. There are, of course, your garden variety seagulls that sometimes swarm in frightening numbers in a Hitchcockian way. Once in a while, towards Istinye or Tarabiye, you might see a heron. One kind of bird, the name of which I don't know in English but which is called "karabatak" in Turkish, amuses me. They look like small, squat ducks with black heads and charcoal gray bodies. Their bills extend up between their eyes. Sometimes, a small group of them will take turns waddling then jumping off of a small raft-like thing, one by one almost hesitating, talking themselves into it, then plopping into the deep end and swimming off as if there's nothing to worry about.

From a distance, you can see city block long rows of some kind of bird, I don't know which, flying low, just skimming the surface of the water and flapping as if their little lives depended on it. The speed with which they cover the water is impressive. Sometimes, as a group they decide to rise above the water by about a meter and then, as a group, they decide it's not such a good idea and lower themselves back to the surface.

My absolute favorite bird is the cormorant. They settle on buoys and small boats. Sometimes they raise their wings and balance as if they've just applied a roll on deodorant and are waiting for it to dry before putting on a shirt. When they feed, they suddenly bend their necks and dive into the water. I like to silently count the seconds and try to anticipate when they'll come up, shaking little fish in their beaks. It's nicest when there's a handful or so of them. They dive one by one, and one by one reappear, swimming along at a good rate, the tuft of feathers at the top of their heads standing straight like a little aviary mohawk.

Last week, I saw some swans. All I could think of was the images of dead swans being stuffed into large plastic bags, or bulldozed into plastic lined pits by men wearing plague suits. And I hope against the inevitable bird flu that will migrate here and possibly lead to the deaths of "my" birds.