Genovesa Island
When I looked out the window of the dining room this morning, I thought, “Oh no! It’s raining!” That would have been perfectly acceptable and normal for this time of year, being the rainy season. But it was only a light mist that was barely felt by the inhabitants of this small, round, flat island of birds, birds, birds and plants. It wasn’t long before the sun came out. It is obvious that there hasn’t been much rainfall here in quite some time. The Palo Santo trees have lost the few green sprouts they shyly grew a few weeks ago, gambling with their energy reserves that more rain would be felt in the near future. The panoramic view around Darwin’s Bay shows silver gray vegetation topping the cliffs, like an aging crew-cut hairstyle.
The red-footed boobies, great frigate birds and swallow-tailed gulls are in full throttle for breeding, however. At one moment, one particular site seemed to be the most coveted on the island. All three marine species, plus a Galapagos mockingbird and yellow warbler visited a salt bush at the same time. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the warbler and mockingbird in the picture as well, as they moved quickly through the frame. Several of us watched the action. It became obvious after a few minutes that the red-footed booby was in search of nesting material. Looking around at the island, it is difficult for us to believe that nesting material is in short supply, but it is. It must be of a certain length and strength; not too weak, not too heavy, not too long, nor too short. It must fit snugly between other twigs, and hold it’s own. At last the red-footed booby, despite the gulls screeching rejection of the idea, jumped down to the ground and started searching the beach under the bush right next to the gulls for potential construction material. He looked, poked, pulled at stems, tested weights and strengths of various items, but finally found a good, acceptable twig. We stepped out of his path as he took to the air. Within seconds, a frigate was on his tail, and within nanoseconds had snatched the twig away. The booby returned to the same nearby tree where his mate awaited. On landing there was raucous noise from them both. If I may anthropomorphize the birds, it could have been either a scolding or commiseration at the loss. Whatever it was, the booby soon went out in search, once again, of good nesting material, and the frigates continued to patrol the air.
