Just before lunch the call went out that there were dolphins riding on the bow. Those who moved with some promptness were greeted with five or six dolphins swimming effortlessly immediately in front of the bow. These acrobatic animals stayed with us for five minutes or so and then, as mysteriously as them came, slipped away unseen.
We also began to see a few seabirds. The most common according to the legendary bird expert, Roger Tory Peterson, is the Wilson's Storm-Petrel and we looked for these dainty birds. They nest in the Southern Hemisphere summer and can be seen there feeding as they daintily flutter above the water in the Antarctic. Later they circle north of the equator in the non-breeding season, thus spending two summers in one year, a nice gig if you can get it. We looked for the Wilson's Storm-Petrel in vain, however, although we did see its equally impressive relative, the Leach's Storm-Petrel. Just after lunch a number flew across the bow with their characteristic flight pattern.
Sea birds have evolved beautifully to life on the open ocean far from shore. Their most distinctive adaptation is the ability to drink seawater. This ability is dependent upon the use of salt glands, located above their eyes, to extract salt at a higher percentage than do kidneys.
With our heading of 225 degrees taking us further to sea and our expectation of seeing pelagic birds and mammals rising, we were startled midmorning by a starling-sized bird flying around the ship. Recovering from our surprise, we identified a water rail that seemed to want to land and may, indeed, have done so although we could not find his hiding place. Later, another non-seabird, a small European warbler, a chiffchaff, landed on the bow for a short rest. Earlier, others had seen a pipit and two unidentified, small land birds. Late in the afternoon, a redstart flew into the wheelhouse and the chiffchaff, having hid somewhere, was found in the sauna. So while we were focused on seabirds and dolphins, we were repeatedly surprised that seemingly weak flying land birds had found us at sea.
The Caledonian Star, far off the coast of Morocco, had become a floating island whose inhabitants were searching for sea life but, instead, were being inspected by migrating land birds. It was a day at sea when we were expecting a dominance of sea life and being pleasantly surprised by land birds as if we were still tethered in some mysterious way to the shore.
