The dance of the Tern

We finally got solid ground under our feet again, and I got my chipper state back. And remember, the terns attack, so that is why you need a hat visiting the island.
I always feel a bit guilty when I see people go on without head cover, and I chuckle inside, as I know what is bound to happen.
And some laughed at my hat, but hey, I laughed straight back... The terns attacking me ended up like this:

You don’t mess with a safari hat, or Pith Helmet as the real name is. Made out of cork, and dressed with stiffened fabric, the sharpest beaks do not get through.
And believe me, tern beaks are S H A R P!!!
If they are not busy defending their chicks against humans, they have a rumble amongst themselves.

A lot of fighting and screaming going on. Some kickboxing too. While the chicks wait and watch. Not a good idea if you ask me to fight in front of the children.

I love the tenacity of the small terns. Not the biggest birds, if a shag or cormorant would attack like they do, you might not live to tell the tale.
Lucky for us bird watchers that the terns are small.

And lots of chicks this year. They even wonder out on the paths made for Island visitors. We have to watch our steps or could accidentally crush one.

I also encounter one last eider duck, the chick hidden under her wing. Good mothers. And camouflaged well, easy to miss them as they sit not moving on the nest. Colors mimicing the ground they sit on perfectly.

When on top of the small Inner Farne Island, you can see the boats waiting to dock again, to pick up their passenger load to take us back to Seahouses.
More fog seems to build as we speak, it all gets an eery feel. We don’t even see Longstone, with the lighthouse light that flikkers every 20 seconds.

It’s a wonderful sight to see the tiny boats bob. Skippers are talking to each other, they have an hours wait while the birdwatchers go ashore to experience the frenzy attacks of the terns.

And if the beaks are not enough, they also have some darn sharp claws on their paddles. These are seabirds, they do everything with obsession: fly or float.
The chicks have to be fed and defended, at all cost.

I can’t help it, but the birds impress me beyond words. They go in attack mode without giving up, even after years of humans visiting the island, they keep attacking. You would think that after a couple of years, they would get used to humans, nope...
And all chicks have not been born yet, moms are still sitting on eggs, not moving when another camera gets close in.

A few early chicks are humming around already, small furry balls of wool. Brownish speckled, blending in with the grassy background. Part of their defense system given to them by nature itself.

The eggs are tiny, speckled too, yellowish brown, in a neat round nest made of dried grass. For years terns and other species on the island have been sitting on nests, not bothered by visitors, the terns are the only ones to go into action when they smell danger.

I use Mr Wonderful as a lure, he put in an extra layer of cotton under his hat, and while the birds are attacking him, I watch and snap.

We usually have one grown up tern watching the little ones, one goes fishing on the sea, the other one keeps an eye open.

People do the Tern dance, trying to avoid the beaks. If no hats are available, sweaters are taken off and wound around the head. Funny sights on this micro island.

After the attack, the head has been claimed and is pronounced resting area. That is the way birds think. SImple ways. Effective.

More babies on the move. Watching where we put our feet down. I see that the wardens have started to border off the nesting meadow with some chicken wire, that should keep the chicks off the paths. Only a couple of walking paths on the island, and people do stay on them, so the nesting meadows are not trampled on.

It is the first time for me on the island that I actually see that much puffins. In earlier years, we found empty burroughs, but now here and there we see a small head pop out and check if the route is clear. One is playing hide and seek with me.

Coming out half, then go back in, worried that I will know where his only chick is now, I won’t disturb them, I keep on the laid out paths, we can visit the birds because we try to do as we should: not bother them more then needed. It is a big honour already that they do allow us to watch them.
They live in their underground burroughs, dug out with beak and paws, and raise one chick per couple. Once the chick leaves the nest, the burrough is abandoned. The chicks fly out to see and will spend the first 3 years of their life out on the waves. After that they are mature and ready to breed themselves, and they too will find a spot to dig a burrough, on the same island their parents were on. Another wonder of nature.

The peeping one finally decided that I seemed harmless enough and flies off, to go fish.
I go to the edge of the island, to the puffin rocks as I call them, to get as close as possible to the little flyers with orange make up...

Some more about them tomorrow! Same time, same blog...

Comments

[Sarah]

Love the foot picture and the egg shot!