Back in Baires

Just a few storefront snaps from Congreso, a neighborhood a stone's throw from mine. Great to be back in Buenos Aires.

I Want My MOMMY

At the end of another very good month here in Buenos Aires, but last night proved, yet again, that I haven't quite gotten the hang of what I can only call porteño chutzpah.

My friends Galo and Emiliano suggested we check out a French film that was a big hit at Cannes (won a prize of some sort) called Mommy. It's playing as part of a Cannes festival week here at the national cinema (where tickets are always 8 pesos—about a buck).

I ask Galo when we should arrive, since events of this sort sell out way early in NYC, and he says around quarter to eight for an 8:00 screening would be fine. I live very nearby and decide to stop by early, just in case. Get there around 6:45 and it's already sold out.

Game over, right? Not here.

In NY, you could wait around and try to buy tickets from scalpers, but that's not a local custom. Galo and Emiliano show up (predictably late, around 7:50) and I tell them it's a no go. But instead of leaving to go have a pizza, we just mill around in front of the movie theater. Then we sort of push our way inside to the lobby.

There are two box offices, one regular, one for press. Emiliano chats up the teller at the press box office to see if Galo's credentials as a worker at the Teatro San Martin (national theater) will help. They don't. But still, we don't go. We just push our way into a sort of semi-controlled mob with a bunch of other locals near the ticket-takers, who take this completely in stride, asking us once, quite politely, to make way for people who have tickets.

Around 8:10 they decide what-the-hell and just start handing out tickets. We push our way toward the front of the group and we're in. Gracias, Galo y Emiliano. (In the local mindset, it's very important to the ticket-takers they they give us tickets and then take it seconds later, rather than just letting us go in. Never mind that we didn't pay, and really just pushed our way in, so long as we actually have a ticket to give them, we're OK.)

Oh, by the way, turns out the front three rows of the movie theater (which is very big) are nearly empty.

So we saw Mommy, which turns out to be quite good, by a French-Canadian prodigy named Xavier Dolan, who's 25 and already made 5 films. It's a bit too long, and maybe schematic, but harrowing, exciting acting, and energetic, vivid filmmaking. (Galo and Emiliano have seen all of his films and prefer some of the others to this one.)

El Nido Vacio

Day Twelve, around 5:00 PM—They fledged! I've been watching the Palitos perch on the edge of the windowbox throughout the day. Then I looked out and they seemed to be gone. Sure enough, I opened the window and the nest is empty!

Their first flight took them about eight feet across the well between buildings to the roof where I've been tossing sunflower seeds. They're hanging out there now, still together, wondering what to do next.

A little bit later: Here we have what may or may not be the whole family on the roof. I'm pretty sure that the bigger torcaza at the upper left is a male and the other adult is a female, so they could be the two Pals. (Or they could be just two random torcazas, but I prefer to think not.) The Palitos are hanging out by the brick at the upper right.

Later still. They've split up for the first time in their short lives. Here's one of the Palitos getting the hang of his (or her) wings.

 

Los Palitos—Day Twelve

7:00 AM—They're starting to stand up more often in their nest.

11:00 AM—Visible feet. Come on, kids, fly already.

12:00 PM — Now they're perching on the edge of the windowbox now, gazing at the world, pondering the next big step. Which Palito will be the first to fly? Will the other one follow right away? And will they come back to their nest, or leave it behind for good once they're fledged?

Los Palitos—Day Eleven

Bobby thinks the Palitos are beginning to look a bit lazy, and I'm inclined to agree with him. Pal is coming around less and less often (she stopped by for a quick feeding this morning, but left soon thereafter. I think they're too big to sit on now.) I'm only here for two more days—I'd love for them to fledge before I go. They're flapping a bit in the nest from time to time, but that's about it. Come on, Palitos, get a move on!

5:30 PM  A torcacito thinking about leaving the nest?

Los Palitos—Day Ten

6:00 AM— Another bad photo, but a landmark. This is the first time I've seen one of the Palitos sitting in the same position as Pal, facing out toward the word and close enough to the edge that I can see his head from my living room window.

7:30 AM— Pal seems to be hanging around less. How do they know when to fly away? Does she just stop feeding them and they have to leave to get food?

10:30 AM

Los Palitos—Day Nine

7:30 AM— Terrible pic, but this morning was the first time I've seen Pal's tail actually mashed up against the glass of the bathroom window while she was feeding the kids. She's that blurry gray blotch to the right of center.

8:30 AM— Heads starting to lose their yellow fluff. Chests still fluffy. They don't look ready to fledge to me.

2:30 PM — Raining. Pal has been perching on Los Palitos most of the day, keeping them dry. I think they're too big now to fit all the way under her, but she's giving it her best.

Los Palitos–Day Eight

7:00 AM— Palito Uno and Dos have certainly grown a lot since those scrawny yellow bits of fluff and beak eight days ago. They've already developed mom and dad's stoic gaze. But they're still quite small compared to, say, the window frame Pal chose for their first home.

Noon

Los Palitos—Day Seven

Many sources say that eared doves are supposed to fledge in 9 days, but I have my doubts. (Some sources say 9 to 14, the latter of which seems more likely.)

Los Palitos: Day Six

6:30 AM—The view from my living room window is rather poor—lately, all I see is Pal's tail feathers. And I notice that she's getting more and more pushed out of the box as the Palitos get bigger.

That philodrendrony plant is sending out a new red leaf, which I think is also starting to get in Pal's way.

8:30 AM—Los Palitos are tucked together, as usual.

9:30 AM—Caught Pal's attention while tossing some sunflower seeds.

Noon

Los Palitos: Day Five

6:30 AM  Pal flew off for a quick break. Caught the Palitos awake, though contemplative. (By the way, as always, you can click on these pics to enlarge them.)

I've been putting out sunflower seeds on the roof opposite Pal's window, but I haven't been sure if she's eating them. But yesterday I saw a dove out there for the first time. Again, this morning I saw two doves out there (and a few pigeons). I can't be sure that they're Pal Uno and Pal Dos, of course, since they all look the same, but think at least one of them must be a Pal.

Here's the view from my kitchen window. Pal's nest is in the windowbox in front of the bathroom window, which is to the right. You can also see that my aloe is blooming in the windowbox in front of my writing desk.

A possible Pal grabbing some seeds before the greedy pigeons get them all.

A bit later: This one is definitely Pal—I saw her leave the nest. (Correx: I saw him leave the nest. Daniel looked at the pics and tells me that the blue head here is a sure sign that this Pal is a he, not a she. So we know that he was taking care of the kids at least some of the time.)

I better get some more sunflower seeds tomorrow.

Noon: Another close-up (better camera).

Los Palitos: Day Four

7:00 AM—I just saw mom fly off, presumably for a quick bite, so I snapped some pics. Not great—the kids are asleep and curled up together. But you can see that their feathers are coming in.

5:00 PM—Just came home and Pal was out, so snapped another shot of sleeping babes. I guess that's about all they do right now, other than eat. Pal just came back, so my timing was good.

Los Palitos: Day Two

Los Palitos—Day One

After more than two weeks of fretting and anxiety (mine, that is), the eggs hatched today and we have two scrawny, yellow, and ugly little lumps I've named the Palitos (Uno and Dos). Pal (the mom and/or dad) has been sitting patiently throughout, sometimes turning around and waggling some tail feathers at me.

Today, Pal was gone when I came back to the apartment. I've been worried that the eggs weren't fertile, so I opened the window a bi and there they were, huddled together in a sodden lump, but clearly breathing. Pal stayed away for at least an hour, which made me awfully tense, but I guess she (or he) knows more about this than I do.