Today could have been so easy. On the way from Vienna to Carinthia, I wanted to quickly activate Kreuzeck OE/ST-243 near Scheifling — that was the plan. Weather check, perfect spot to park the car check, wide forest path check, a 30-minute hike up check, a few photos check, and the little birds chirping away at the top of their voices too.
At the idyllic forest summit at 1459 m, there even happens to be a nice big wooden table with two benches. Where to put the EndFed? Check, all clear! Should all go quickly. But then everything turns out differently — suddenly a capercaillie struts onto the scene. On SOTLAS I had read reports from other hams that a bird up there defends its territory. Yep, he is clearly still alive. Fine by me, we will surely be able to share the place. At least that is what I think. The capercaillie has quite different intentions. I pull out the phone and am still happy at first, snapping a few photos. Stay calm is the motto, and I speak softly to the beautiful animal. He speaks back to me, but his display calls sound less than friendly. I am not yet afraid, but that changes quickly.
I keep humming to myself, acting casual, and try to set everything up — but I do not get far. By now it is clear: there is no messing with this fellow.
What follows, thank God, nobody saw: we do a few laps around the table together, until I end up on top of the table. First I am the one standing up there — then suddenly he is up there. Since he shows no intention of leaving the table, I hand him over the IC-705 and retreat 30 m with the handheld to try my luck on 2 m.
I post in the SOTA group asking if anyone might be QRV, and while I harvest a few funny comments about the scene, the radio stays silent. I do not dare go back to the table anymore, at least not without being armed.
My improvised defence, consisting of two long sticks, is quickly found. They even have branches at the tip, which turns out to be a trump card a few minutes later. I do not really want to bother the beautiful animal, and it would be enough for me if he just gave me my gear back. And — hooray — the capercaillie even jumps off the table voluntarily at first, but only to chase me and follow me into the forest. He bites into the branches of my sticks, and I am both startled and in awe of this bird. In any case, he chases me far enough that I end up taking a wide loop back to the table.
There I try to finish setting up the HF station as quickly as possible. With shaky hands — one eye constantly on the capercaillie, the other on the Polo app (a third eye for the display of the IC-705 would have come in handy) — and with operating technique ranging from mediocre to poor, I manage to log and stutter my way through a handful of QSOs. Amazingly, “my” capercaillie stays calm for the duration of the QSOs and seems to no longer regard me as an enemy. He keeps his distance of about 10 metres — I can live with that.
Two hours later, zero QSOs richer on 2 m but at least 11 contacts on 40 m and exactly two on 20 m in the log, I dismantle the EndFed antenna again in a hurry.
With an unexpected experience of a very special kind — and quite grateful not to have felt this bird’s beak on my shin or anywhere else — I set off, relieved and shaking my head, back to the car.
My conclusion of the day: radio operations can be planned — a displaying capercaillie cannot.
73 de Sigrid Magdalena OE1YLS
