Ribbon Reef #5

[Kyle]On the day we moved from Ribbon Reef 3 to Ribbon Reef 5, a new bird showed up. It sat on the sea holding its wings up to keep them dry. It would fly to a spot just ahead of us, drift back a few boat lengths and then fly forward to repeat. It was so big that at first we thought it was a juvenile Albatross. That probably wasn't right as albatross like the higher latitudes better. We did some more digging and finally decided it was a Flesh-footed Shearwater. We were half expecting him to follow us as we left, but instead, he stayed behind at the mooring ball.

Along the way a big commercial dive boat heading in the opposite direction passed us. It was the first other vessel we had seen this far out. They didn't have AIS, so I tracked them on radar. They went from Ribbon 5 to Ribbon 3. We had just avoided having to share either reef with a hundred others. When the tourism really picks back up again, I'm sure it would be unavoidable.

With no land around, the birds treat Begonia as a mini-island

Ribbon 5 was much like Ribbon 3, only with slightly different snorkeling terrain and slightly different fishes. I'm pretty sure the tern from Ribbon 3 followed us there. Every day at 4:30pm, he would head straight for his familiar roost on the second or third stern step without even trying a different spot first. Most of the others did the same, lining up on their familiar spaces on the beam. The tern is too skittish, but the gannets all get a little pat on the back to remind them I haven't forgotten our agreement. Our next stop is at a real island, where hopefully the trees and beaches will seem like a better deal than a wet, rocking boat where they are only safe from harassment on the worst, most exposed section.

One of the later bird arrivals was a Noddy that touched down on the stainless steel railings by one of our stern step gates. He was having a terrible time holding on to the slippery surface. Every time Begonia pitched or rolled, the poor guy would almost fall off and would turn into a fluttering blur trying to regain his balance. He's never going to be able to sleep like that.

After watching him do this one too many times, I took pity on him and decided to try to gently spook him over to an adjacent coil of nice fat grippy rope. I approached slowly and put my hand on the other side of him. He walked over to the rope and got a foot on. I assumed the benefits of the rope would then be obvious, but he would struggle back onto the steel rail as soon as I backed off. My hand was close enough to him that I decided to try to pick him up and move him myself by getting him to perch on my finger.

Kyle "The bird whisperer" befriends a visiting Noddy

The finger perch is the first basic task taught to most pet birds. It can be critical to their safety in stressful situations, allowing them to stay under your protection and not panic, like teaching a dog to heel when their instinct tells them to run into the street. I've taught a few baby birds how to do this. The trick is to move slowly and gently so they don't think you're really trying to grab them.

My little guy acted like other first-timers. As I gently touched my finger to his breastbone, he at first seemed really confused. Then I moved my finger back, putting him just on the edge of balance. Not wanting to fall, he put one foot on me. I moved further until there was no way he could keep his balance and still hold onto the rail. He popped the other foot onto my finger and, viola! I was his new friend.

I tried taking him over to the aforementioned rope and discharging him using the reverse of the above procedure, but he wasn't having it. Before I could even pull my hand away, he jumped back on. Then I tried making a fist. That just made him fly to my forearm, where he would wait until I opened my hand to its original position. Then he would scurry back down to 'his' finger. Fingers are great! They are the perfect size for perching and they are heated! This one also has auto-stabilization from the wave motion. He had found his new home. He fluffed up his feathers and gave a good tail wag, which is what most birds do when they are content, and set to fixing his feathers for the night. He let me join in and take care of the hard to reach ones on top of his head. He even let me wrestle playfully with his little needle of a beak, gently tapping the finger to each side of his feet in return.

I was never able to get him to perch on the rope. The sky started drizzling and it was exposed there. He eventually decided that he liked the bow of the dinghy. It was out of the wind and protected from the rain by the solar panel above. The bow fender is a heavy canvas fire hose cover that is the perfect shape for his little feet. That, and his tail was hanging over open water, so we were both happy.

I checked on him a few times that night. He was always happy to hop onto my finger for a quick scratch or let me do it where he perched. I had to be careful about it because the nearby tern could see me and always looked nervous enough to be about ready to bolt into the night.

And of course, there was snorkelling too

When we awoke, the gannets were already gone. The tern left as soon as there were signs of activity. Our noddy was still there, though. I expected him to be less friendly in the morning, when the incentive to find a safe place to spend the night was taken over by the urge to go fishing. Instead, he seemed completely un-bothered by our departure preparations, no matter how many bangy noises we made or how closely we came to his tiny head with our big, stompy feet. He just watched us, tilted his head and shook his tail every now and then.

When we departed, there was a brief flash of confusion as the wind swung from in front of the boat to coming from behind. His windbreak was gone. He shuffled around until he was 45 degrees to the new wind. Then the water under him started rushing the other way, which caused him to tilt his head and study it for a while.

It was an hour or so later, when Ribbon Reef 5 was well over the horizon, that I saw him stand up and give his wings a trial stretch. He did that a couple of times and then jumped into the air. He made a beeline due east toward Ribbon reef 6 or 7. He was a mere speck halfway to the horizon when he curved back and headed toward us. He flew at eye level, facing backwards to us into the wind for a few seconds before touching down on the top lifeline. Then he gave a big tail wag, jumped into the air and headed off towards a group of other noddies circling in the distance.