June 11, 2007
After nearly a week in or around the hospital as visitors, we decided to shorten yesterday's visit and drive off to tour the Farne Islands.
Two hours later, we and 14 other passengers were happily climbing on to a small boat for a 2 to 3 hour tour of the Farne islands including 1 hour to explore Inner Farne island by foot. Smiles withered in the first few minutes of rough chop; it was cold, foggy and the boat heaved up and down and in all directions. Thankfully, after only 15 minutes the boat slowed to a comfortable drift. The first set of tiny rocky islands was filled with seals--representatives of the grey and common variety lounged on the rocks and each other, poured themselves into the sea or popped curious heads out of the water nearby. The captain's border collie paced frantically, pausing frequently to bump a passenger aside to lean over the edge and whimper at the seals. Leah thought the dog was trying to "herd" the seals. It was adorable.
The boat paused and sidled to the rocks several times, and the tour director made informational comments. After the seals, there were birds. Lots of birds. Birds on every ledge and in every nook; the rocks were arranged vertically into small cliffs and topped with bird "muck" as the tour director called it. It was breath-taking, both the visual spectacle and the considerable pong.
We alighted on the island of Inner Farne and were greeted by two cheerful National Trust money-takers, who wore broad brimmed hats and were decorated in bird muck as though they were painters that had been in a paint fight because the Off-white paint had been mixed too thinly. Further on the path, we were attacked by a mass of Artic Terns. Hitchcock couldn't have imagined it better: dozens of people waving hands and umbrellas over their heads, cinching hoods, ducking, walking stiff-legged quickly to cover, or ambling slowly, oddly enjoying or accepting their fate. I tried to wave a hand over my head (as instructed) and received a snap at my finger that I thought had drawn blood (it didn't). By the end of the hour my strategy was set: when I went through the Tern areas, I tightened the hood of my rain jacket and with my head down I moved swiftly through. Right before I left, I receive two hard pecks on the head. Leah four. Marilyn six! It would be easy to be upset with the Terns, but I couldn't. The Terns were laying eggs and we were on their island walking by their nests. Maybe, the birds were hopeful that with a few more knocks on the head, people would realize this. And, in that sense, I agreed with them.
If it wasn't for the Internet connection I have now, at this point, I would conclude with some pictures I took of Guillemots, Eiders, Shags, Razorbills, Puffins, a lone Oystercatcher and all those Gulls.
