Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?

It's difficult to think of Alasdair without also bringing Robbie Burns to
mind.  People sing Auld Lang Syne at New Year's Eve, but usually only the
chorus is sung.  The full poem is a rich brew, and I'll be using some of
the ingredients to guide me through this memorial.

We, in the birdwatching community, came to know Alasdair through Pat; she
was the birder in the family.  Alasdair accompanied her on birding outings
around Halifax, throughout the province, and beyond, and though his
interest in birding seemed only peripheral, he was never bored.  And he
was never boring.

He also joined in on birding social gatherings.  Birders are sometimes
considered an odd lot, but Alasdair fit right in.  His quiet humour was
always welcome, and he introduced us to the finer points of Scottish
culture, including haggis, a dish that I had previously been terrified to
taste.  But once Alasdair formally addressed the odd creation, with the
words of Robbie Burns,

    Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
    And dish them out their bill o' fare,
    But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer
    Gie her a haggis!

Who could resist?  And the haggis was wonderful, a treat welcomed at every
subsequent birders' pot luck.

And who, indeed, could resist Alasdair.

We've wander'd mony a weary fit.

Travels with Alasdair.  A few general observations first.

Alasdair loved to travel, but it couldn't be said that he travelled in
style – rather, he travelled out of style.  His style was his own.  Had
he been featured on the realty show "What Not To Wear", it would have been
no contest.  Alasdair would have confounded the hosts, and, if forced to
buy clothing, would have purchased more short shorts, colourful tropical
shirts, odd hats, and kilts.  Alasdair wore what made him comfortable,
without meaning to provoke or offend.  His self assurance and dignity saw
him through this fashion minefield, and it certainly helped that,
according to one female birding acquaintance who wishes to remain
anonymous, Alasdair had the finest legs of any man she'd ever seen.

And, indeed, any image of Alasdair on any outing is of a pair of long legs
topped by an unruly head of hair, striding purposefully in search of
something to explore, or some hill or monument to climb. Perhaps
Alasdair's totem bird is a Black-crowned Crane.

He hae paidl'd in the burn, frae morning sun till dine. 

Alasdair loved the water, and the likelihood of his joining us on any trip
was directly related to the opportunities for paddling in the burn,
snorkeling, or skinny dipping.

We hae run about the braes. 

We love to relive our trips with shared memories, and even though we were
on birding trips, its remarkable how often people share the Alasdair
moments.  Many of his travelling companions have spoken to me of their
favourite Alasdair memories; here are some highlights. [slide show in
Parish Hall].

On our first full day during our trip to Portugal, we were released from
the confinement of plane and bus, and let loose in an area of fields and
marshes.  We birders emerged with binoculars and scopes, and Alasdair went
in search of anything interesting.  He was always careful not to interfere
with the birders, so he headed for a ramshackle ruin of a building,
perhaps hoping to climb it.  Instead he flushed a Barn Owl into the open,
and we all had the chance to watch it as it gracefully flew away.  We made
of a good partnership.

In Cuba Alasdair's wardrobe caused a minor fuss; bathing suits were not
permitted in the resort's dining room, and Alasdair was still wearing his
snorkeling black speedo, and was refused enty.  But he said not a word of
complaint, simply retreated to his room, emerging soon thereafter in full
Scottish kilt and regalia.  The Cuban staff were both astonished and
amused, and, since there was no rule forbidding kilts, he entered without
further difficulty, and our supper proceeded.

There were other Cuban adventures; ask Pat about the time she and Alasdair
got lost while out horse-back riding.  On another occasion Alasdair
misplaced his watch on a coral beach.  He had used it to provide scale for
some photos, then walked away without picking it up.  (Alasdair was
reputed to be a bit absent-minded). He asked Pat to help him find the
watch, and while they searched for (successfully), Pat missed seeing a
special bird, and it took her a week of persistent searching before she
caught up with it.  But it was a small price to pay for having Alasdair
along on our trips.

But seas between us braid hae roar'd.

By the time Panama rolled around, Alasdair was an integral component of
our outings.  Indeed, he became our trip's chronicler, making a wonderful
video of our adventures, and providing each of us with a copy.  And that
trip had many special moments. On one evening at our beach resort, a
supper reservation went awry, but the evening was salvaged, and made
memorable, when Alasdair organised a songfest at our table, though I'm not
sure the other patrons were amused.

From this same resort Pat and Alasdair would make their independent
explorations, which included the discovery, across a river, of a small
store that sold hand-embroidered clothing.  They directed us all there on
the following day, and we all went a little beserk, and I cannot now wear
this shirt without thinking of Pat and Alasdair.

But, by group consensus, the most potent Alasdair Panama memory occurred
on a magical outing to Cerro Azul, south of the Panama Canal, and north of
the mystical Darien, on the border with Colombia.  We had lunch at a
hillside hacienda, which offered a stunning view to the east and south,
amid a lovely garden filled with Glass-winged Butterflies, colourful
tanagers, and extraordinary hummingbirds.  The food was superb, the
weather uncharacteristically clear, the birding exciting, we were among
friends – it seemed a perfect moment.  How could it be bettered?  
Alasdair found a way. As we gazed south to the unattainable Darien he
became inspired, and he reached within his prodigious memory and emerged
with a sonnet by Keats, whose final lines were:

        Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
        When a new planet swims into his ken;
        Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
        He star'd at the Pacific--and all his men
        Look'd at each other with a wild surmise
        Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

We were speechless.  Alasdair had found the perfect way to immortalise a
perfect day.

He will be missed, but he will be remembered, and on our next trip, sadly,
without Alasdair,

we'll tak a cup o'kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

Slainte, Alasdair


Blake Maybank
October, 2006