Fernandina Island
A flock of blue-footed boobies finishes their day's work plunge diving for sardines and salemas just off the shores of Fernandina, the youngest island in the Galapagos.
At approximately four o'clock on Tuesday afternoons they gather along the shorelines of black basaltic lava to watch one of the most unusual sights to come this way in a week. Strange-looking, mobile black rocks float past their view-point, laden with the oddest assortment of a loud wingless species, that come accompanied by whirring sounds, and the odd flash of bright light. They seem to materialize from an enormous dark-blue and white shape looming in the distance, with strange markings on the sides - P-O-L-A-R-I-S.
Whilst the more blasé of the boobies look around for something more interesting, having witnessed this sight many times before, others stare in fascination. Many questions are passed amongst the birds: why are their feet not blue? How do they distinguish males from females, and tell that they are the same species if their colors are so diverse, with no set pattern? ARE they in fact all the same species? What is the purpose of these weekly trips along the coastline, and how exactly do these strange creatures feed? Why does there seem to be no precise time of year as to when smaller versions of the creatures appear on the floating islets? What are those odd orange ruffs around their necks? And the biggest question of all: why do the passers by seem so curious about the boobies? Do they maybe find boobies as fascinating as boobies find them? Exactly who is watching whom here?
The older, wiser of the boobies have spent many a year pondering these questions, and many more like them, and the universal response among them seems to be: a lot more observing needs yet to be done - let's gather again same time, same place, next Tuesday.
A flock of blue-footed boobies finishes their day's work plunge diving for sardines and salemas just off the shores of Fernandina, the youngest island in the Galapagos.
At approximately four o'clock on Tuesday afternoons they gather along the shorelines of black basaltic lava to watch one of the most unusual sights to come this way in a week. Strange-looking, mobile black rocks float past their view-point, laden with the oddest assortment of a loud wingless species, that come accompanied by whirring sounds, and the odd flash of bright light. They seem to materialize from an enormous dark-blue and white shape looming in the distance, with strange markings on the sides - P-O-L-A-R-I-S.
Whilst the more blasé of the boobies look around for something more interesting, having witnessed this sight many times before, others stare in fascination. Many questions are passed amongst the birds: why are their feet not blue? How do they distinguish males from females, and tell that they are the same species if their colors are so diverse, with no set pattern? ARE they in fact all the same species? What is the purpose of these weekly trips along the coastline, and how exactly do these strange creatures feed? Why does there seem to be no precise time of year as to when smaller versions of the creatures appear on the floating islets? What are those odd orange ruffs around their necks? And the biggest question of all: why do the passers by seem so curious about the boobies? Do they maybe find boobies as fascinating as boobies find them? Exactly who is watching whom here?
The older, wiser of the boobies have spent many a year pondering these questions, and many more like them, and the universal response among them seems to be: a lot more observing needs yet to be done - let's gather again same time, same place, next Tuesday.
