The Loneliness of Oceans

Perhaps as a consequence of an orientation toward vague and distant destinations, the birds often suffer the lonely meridians of sea and sky with a feeling of scarcity. The seasonal storms of the pelagic coat our feathers in ice, our tongues in salt. How easy it is to see fictions in the ceaseless churning waves.

We have learned to appreciate the kindness of rocks where no rocks exist. This is the blackness of oceans at night, where glad notions arrive as sounds stillborn into fog. The tax of our flight.

The sun rises over trees beyond our eyes' witness.

The Fledging of the Guillemots

A bazaar of fledgling guillemots braved a plunge from the Flat this afternoon to raucous cheering from the crowd. The ritual of testing complete, they have since rejoined the nesting brood on the northeast cliffs. One fledgling was injured and is being cared for in a small cave near Passagemouth.

Another friend arrived this morning from the west and spent part of the day with us sighting fish. He will leave in several days to begin his preparations for wintering at a new roost. We wish him joy and luck.

News of Nearby Foundings

Today on Boatswain, an old friend settled in for a brief and rocky rest. Our noisy joyous chatter resounded to Ascension. Perched on the Flat, we learned of our friend's founding on nearby shores. While bound to keep our season here on the Island, we plan a visit once the weather turns.

The sky this evening was cluttered with arriving noddies. Their nervous calls drowned out the sounds of the sea.