Floreana Island
Friday the thirteenth dawned over a spectacular and calm sea that exposed the backs of turtles as they dozed on the surface. Post Office Bay opened early for business, and an active interchange of postcards took place behind the salt-bushes in a little clearing of flat sand, as it has been done for the last 200 years. Afterwards, instead of hiking inland in search of a breakfast of tortoise meat and a little water from the highland spring, we turned back to the ship where a hearty (and very comfortable) breakfast awaited us which did not require any major effort on our part. We have come a long way from those days of whalers and old-time sailing vessels.
After breakfast the focus went to the natural history of Floreana Island when we all took the Zodiacs out for a spin around Champion Islet. The Captain had moved the ship over to a small satellite islet off the northeast coast of Floreana. Here, only 47 individuals are left of the Floreana (or Charles) mockingbird. Another islet further east holds another 120, but that is it for the world’s population of this most interesting species. Charles Darwin saw this mockingbird when he visited the island in 1835. They now no longer inhabit the main island because their terrestrial habits make them easy targets for rats and feral cats.
We were successful in spotting several of the endemic mockingbirds, and quite a few of the endemic cacti (they didn’t move around as much). The Floreana cactus is also highly restricted in its range, but this time due to the predation of feral goats and donkeys – now gone – who ate them for their water content.
However, the sea lions were once again the stars of the show, and we found them waiting for us when we returned the second time this morning, but this time outfitted for snorkeling. We started with sea lions expressing behaviors equivalent to humans in high school (1- 3 years); surreptitiously checking us out, blowing bubbles in our faces, or wrestling with each other. Then we concentrated on the fish life, which was spectacular because the visibility couldn’t have been better. Sharks, rays, salemas both white and black-striped, parrotfish, angelfish, and surgeon fish – we had them all. The ending was a delight, since we ended up in a cave with the pre-schoolers – sea lion pups of no more than a few months old who looked at us all google-eyed with wonder while chewing shells and their own flippers. Yes, it is dangerous to anthropomorphize too much – but as you can see, dear reader, irresistible.
The afternoon had kayakers out for a paddle around the bay of Point Cormorant. This was combined with a later walk along an easy trail which led past a brackish-water lagoon, over a small hill, and down to a beautiful white beach. “La Picona,” made up of soft, finely ground pieces of calcium carbonate material from the gut of parrotfish, is inhabited by sting rays and used by marine turtle females by night for nesting. In fact the last group walking the shoreline of this beach came across some small pebble-looking bumps in the sand, and before they registered as the heads of hatchling marine turtles, frigates with six-foot wingspans were already swooping down, feet from where they stood, to pick up the young turtles one-by-one until there were no more small dark heads sticking out of the sand. It hurts to see, but everyone has to make a living. Only through the emotionless acts of natural selection do we see today the final products, those who are as close to perfection as the environment allows. The survivors will persevere, and pass on their abilities to their offspring. Those are who we see as we swim and snorkel, the select few who are doing what they do best: surviving to pass on those traits which do best.
Friday the thirteenth dawned over a spectacular and calm sea that exposed the backs of turtles as they dozed on the surface. Post Office Bay opened early for business, and an active interchange of postcards took place behind the salt-bushes in a little clearing of flat sand, as it has been done for the last 200 years. Afterwards, instead of hiking inland in search of a breakfast of tortoise meat and a little water from the highland spring, we turned back to the ship where a hearty (and very comfortable) breakfast awaited us which did not require any major effort on our part. We have come a long way from those days of whalers and old-time sailing vessels.
After breakfast the focus went to the natural history of Floreana Island when we all took the Zodiacs out for a spin around Champion Islet. The Captain had moved the ship over to a small satellite islet off the northeast coast of Floreana. Here, only 47 individuals are left of the Floreana (or Charles) mockingbird. Another islet further east holds another 120, but that is it for the world’s population of this most interesting species. Charles Darwin saw this mockingbird when he visited the island in 1835. They now no longer inhabit the main island because their terrestrial habits make them easy targets for rats and feral cats.
We were successful in spotting several of the endemic mockingbirds, and quite a few of the endemic cacti (they didn’t move around as much). The Floreana cactus is also highly restricted in its range, but this time due to the predation of feral goats and donkeys – now gone – who ate them for their water content.
However, the sea lions were once again the stars of the show, and we found them waiting for us when we returned the second time this morning, but this time outfitted for snorkeling. We started with sea lions expressing behaviors equivalent to humans in high school (1- 3 years); surreptitiously checking us out, blowing bubbles in our faces, or wrestling with each other. Then we concentrated on the fish life, which was spectacular because the visibility couldn’t have been better. Sharks, rays, salemas both white and black-striped, parrotfish, angelfish, and surgeon fish – we had them all. The ending was a delight, since we ended up in a cave with the pre-schoolers – sea lion pups of no more than a few months old who looked at us all google-eyed with wonder while chewing shells and their own flippers. Yes, it is dangerous to anthropomorphize too much – but as you can see, dear reader, irresistible.
The afternoon had kayakers out for a paddle around the bay of Point Cormorant. This was combined with a later walk along an easy trail which led past a brackish-water lagoon, over a small hill, and down to a beautiful white beach. “La Picona,” made up of soft, finely ground pieces of calcium carbonate material from the gut of parrotfish, is inhabited by sting rays and used by marine turtle females by night for nesting. In fact the last group walking the shoreline of this beach came across some small pebble-looking bumps in the sand, and before they registered as the heads of hatchling marine turtles, frigates with six-foot wingspans were already swooping down, feet from where they stood, to pick up the young turtles one-by-one until there were no more small dark heads sticking out of the sand. It hurts to see, but everyone has to make a living. Only through the emotionless acts of natural selection do we see today the final products, those who are as close to perfection as the environment allows. The survivors will persevere, and pass on their abilities to their offspring. Those are who we see as we swim and snorkel, the select few who are doing what they do best: surviving to pass on those traits which do best.
