As we write, the ink in our ink well almost coming to the boil, Canberra is enduring a heatwave, a city sizzle. In this weather Canberra's birds, like the Noisy Miner having such fun in today's typically lovely photograph by John Bundock, depend upon us for water to drink and to frolic in.
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Yes it is hot now, but a Red Hill climate change sceptic has pointed out (Letters, Thursday) what he calls an "inconvenient truth" (inconvenient for today's climate change believers who believe we are living in uniquely broiling times). His inconvenient truth is that Canberra's hottest ever day was in the olden days, on January 11, 1939.
We turned to the January 12 and 13, 1939 editions of that journal of record The Canberra Times to see how Canberra coped and failed to cope with this most challenging spell of weather from hell.
If a city can blush with embarrassment (and self-conscious Canberra with its inferiority complex does it all the time) then Canberra and Canberrans were blushing in the second week of January 1939. The hellish weather was coinciding with the first major international conference ever held in the young city, the assembly of the Australian and New Zealand Association for the Advancement of Science. It was attended by more than 1000 delegates. It was our big chance to impress.
Eminent people (the most eminent of them the literary scientist H.G. Wells) were here but were suffering in the heat. It was as if the weather was Canberra's fault. What must they (the visitors) think of us!
"In extreme discomfort owing to the heat, more than 1000 delegates attended the pre-conference formalities at Telopea Park yesterday morning," the Times reported.
"The thermometer rose relentlessly throughout the day until 3 o'clock, when the record for the Canberra district of 108.5 degrees [42.5 Centigrade] was reached.
"Under this broiling heat scientists and their wives gathered in the Parliamentary Gardens and made a gallant effort to take an interest in a garden party arranged in their honour."
"Although usually enjoying one of the most temperate climates in the Commonwealth, Canberra appeared likely to leave a very bad impression in the minds of the hundreds of visiting scientists who, during the past few days, felt that they had been set down in something closely approaching an inferno.
"With the object of dispelling any such misapprehensions, the Tourist Bureau yesterday set up a series of charts for comparative purposes at the Science Congress headquarters at Telopea Park School.
"For although Canberra sweltered with a shade temperature of 106 degrees on Tuesday, the charts disclosed that Melbourne was even less fortunate with 112 degrees, while Adelaide experienced 116 degrees, Bourke 119 degrees and Ivanhoe 120 degrees.
"Canberra residents yesterday took a delight in attracting the attention of visitors to these facts. The innovation [putting up the comparative charts] provoked much amusement and convinced many visitors that Canberra was not such a bad place after all. During the heat wave, it is proposed to display the comparisons from day to day.
Delegates must have been relieved, then, that they were not meeting in even-more-unbearable Bourke or in God-forsaken Ivanhoe. But they must have noticed the heat-ravaged awfulness of the desiccated city they were were meeting in. There were some graphic descriptions in the Times of January 13.
"Hundreds of ornamental trees in the parks and gardens of Canberra appear to have been killed as a result of the excessive heat experienced during the past fortnight.
"The foliage of the beautiful Rowan trees in the vicinity of Parliament House has withered, and in some cases whole trees have wilted. Clumps of berries prematurely reddened by the scorching sun have virtually roasted on the branches. Many flowering shrubs have been unable to stand six days with temperatures over the 100 mark, while the landscape generally presents a parched appearance unparalleled in the city's history."
Pity was expressed for Canberra's sweltering, almost-swooning policemen in their dark and heavy uniforms. It emerged (delegates noted and commented on this, in another embarrassment for our city!) that somehow in this 20th century Canberra's gendarmerie still wasn't equipped with an alternative, summer uniform and had to cope in summer with a uniform best suited for Canberra's winters.
Canberra's birds, too, were suffering in the January 1939 inferno. In a letter to the Times "Bird Lover" pleaded "Sir. I would like to draw attention to the plight of the birds during this hot spell. It is pitiable to see them with lifted wings and mouths agape, some in a semi-exhausted condition. I feel sure that this once this is brought to attention householders who are not already doing so will provide our feathered friends with a much-needed dish of fresh water to give them the relief not only of a drink but a bath."
Seventy-seven years on this columnist echoes the request of "Bird Lover," adding that watching birds patronise the water we supply for them is a great source of joy for us.
As previously reported here, different bird species have different bathing styles. Noisy Miners like the one in our picture are especially entertaining because they fling themselves into bird baths like urchins doing "bombs" at swimming pools.
Birds have, too, as sensitive "Bird Lover" surely noticed, different drinking styles. Some guzzle, but ravens dip their great beaks deep into the water and drink thoughtfully, like wine judges wondering if what they are finding in a Chablis is a hint of limes or a suggestion of pomegranate.
