Today we watched flamingos. They are the same kind that live in the Caribbean and Florida, they haven’t been here long enough to evolve into a new species. They aren't the strongest of fliers and were probably carried over to these islands by a strong storm several thousand years ago. They were lucky enough to find some brackish waters and thrived.
Because they are relatively recent arrivals to these shores, they still have some of their fear of people, so quietness is a must. However, they aren't that afraid. We were able to get within a few dozen feet of them while they preened and groomed themselves, occasionally sticking their heads in the water for a snack of the shrimp that thrive in these waters.
I've only seen flamingos once before, in Florida, with my dad. We were staying in the Everglades, and we had asked the ranger where we could see them. The answer involved a long boardwalk through a mangrove swamp full of mosquitoes. We made the trek, and despite covering ourselves with both clothing and repellent, we were both pretty well chewed up. We arrived at the end of the trail only to see nothing. No flamingos, not much of anything to be honest. We waited about 15 minutes, the mosquito bites turning into welts, before two finally flew over head. Close enough to be identified, but not so close that we could get any good pictures.
My father was happy enough with that – simply smiling and saying “we know they're here.”
Today was different. I know they are there because there were dozens of them on the lake. Several of them were almost within touching distance, three babies were visible, and we could hear their calls – honking like Canada geese. My group stood still and silent on the edge of the brackish lagoon. Roughly three of them preened themselves. They were so close that we could hear them ruffle their feather and splash their heads around in the water as they ate or gathered water to clean themselves with. Each pink feather was clearly visible. Silence seemed the only appropriate response. In part, this is because the birds are more easily spooked than other animals on the islands. However, it was more than that. It was like some innate part of us that understands when stillness and silence is the only proper response.
Somehow though, none of them were as satisfying as those two quietly passing over a mosquito plagued swamp in the south of Florida.
Travel notes:
Later in the day, we went to post office cove, where an 18th century whaling captain placed a barrel where people could put mail and hope that it would be delivered. Today the tradition survives. I had no postcards with me, but I did pick up a few for delivery when I return to the states.
After that, we crossed the island in bare feet, where we watched sea turtles waiting for night time to come ashore at night and lay their eggs. They were remarkably close to the shore.
The crew of the ship also took a break from providing us with luxury service and played a soccer match with the crew of another vessel. We stayed and watched – it was great fun, especially given that half the field was covered by the rising tide by the end of the match. (Literally, half the field – no exaggeration.)
After that, it was time for a bit of snorkeling. (Another reminder of my father, who loved nothing more than being in the ocean.) We went to devil's head, a place famous for hammerheads. No sharks today, alas, but lots of beautiful fishes, starfish and corals.
Tonight we are off to one of the towns. I forget exactly which one, but it will be an opportunity to do a bit of shopping and enjoy a beer at the bar.
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