Noddies

Everywhere you go on this small island there are noddies, no little car, tinkling bell or Big Ears  though. These noddies are a form of tern that squawk at you from their intricately woven nests as you pass beneath. They fly directly toward you and jink to one side within inches of your face, gather on the grass or white sandy beach in mixed groups and shuffle to one side as you gingerly step around them, or sit nonchalantly on fenceposts, steps, rooftops and branches totally oblivious to your presence. One decided to sit on our verandah within a couple of feet of us where it proceeding to preen and gaze around. I was able to sit next to it and have a conversation, admittedly one sided, but it turned toward me once or twice in acknowledgement of the sound I was making. I would say that qualifies as getting pretty close to nature. 

Two species can be found here, the Brown Noddy and the smaller, slimmer, darker Lesser Noddy. They seem happy with one another’s company. There are thousands of each at all stages of the breeding cycle. Pairs will put on a great show as they chase each other in nuptial play across the brooding sky, others sift through piles of detritus looking for suitable nesting matter, a great many are incubating their eggs and nearly fledged chicks sit forlornly at the base of tree trunks, or whistle for food from low perches. It’s an action packed scene with noddies all around. So abundant are they that after a couple of days you almost forget your senses are constantly being stimulated by their antics, their incessant movement, mid flight croaks and the pungent aroma of their guano; they simply become part of the scenery.

Noddies are certainly the most obvious birds on this amazing island, but they are by no means the only inhabitants. Far from it. I mentioned in the last blog how Sooty Terns gather over their nesting grounds at the northern end during the afternoon, spiralling around in their raucous thousands as part of their pre breeding courtship. There’s something like 750,000 pairs of these beauties breeding here and although numbers are nowhere near that high yet, the racket they make is quite intense. It continues all night, but somehow you accept it and after a while it ceases to register. Before you know it the noddies (again) are squabbling on the tin roof and the Mynahs are belting out their rich yodel to harken the dawn. Time to get up for another sweltering day.

Birds are what this island is all about, but by way of change we went tortoise hunting today. Apparently there are 21 giant tortoises on the island, all rescued animals from other locations, with the oldest and biggest being lumbered (an apt adjective) with the name Esmeralda. An unfortunate epithet because he is male. We walked the eastern shore, squinting eyes against the blinding light, encountering migratory plovers and Whimbrel that evocatively seven-whistled along the tides edge. After a while we reached an expanse of scrub and grasses that we weren’t keen on traversing with light flip flops. Good thing too, because as we detoured back along one of the signed nature trails we came upon a pair of giant tortoises munching their way along the mown path- maybe they are the mowers? A short distance further and a trio of these slow moving reptiles could be watched wallowing in tortoise heaven – shallow muddy puddles. Pleased with our tally we reached the clearing that makes for the aircraft landing strip, and there wedged into the thick foliage presenting his back end to us was the main man. He was impressively large, his identity confirmed by the presence of a nasty scar along the right side of his shell, apparently the result of an attack by a drunken twat wielding a machete. Unbelievable the depths to which some humans can sink. The male with a female name wasn’t keen on revealing any more of himself so we moved on, stumbling upon another duo of tortoises on the way. 8 of 21 isn’t bad and after all we did see the mega star. He is thought to be about 175 years old, so respect fella.

Later, on the way back to the eastern beach for a swim in the calm, shallow and agreeably warm sea, we were mobbed by a clearly agitated White-tailed Tropicbird. We soon discovered why: a fluffy chick could be seen sheltering in a tangle of tree roots. The other parent was sitting close by allowing close up views of a really stunning bird, one I was really hoping to see well. 

There’s been so much more to tell, but I haven’t the words. I realise these blogs are nothing more than a scatter gun account, but it’s all I can do. As I type, once more under darkened skies, the air is alive with the calls of Sooty Terns. Little geckos run helter skelter on suction padded feet after small insects attracted by the light to their upside down world. It’s cooled down a lot, but would still register as a hot summers evening back home. And we leave tomorrow, the first leg of this massive trip over, on our way to the next adventure. Stay with me, it could be quite interesting.