Boatswain Bird Island

The Ice Lipped Church

2008-01-20T03:59:00.001-05:00

We've found a cave, a crack in a rock on the sea. Its lips are gelled with thick smooth ice. As we have watched the cave, we have seen the froth break up onto the lips again and again - softening and hardening at once. This is a church for wandering birds. The wind whistles over the smooth lips, and we call back in turn. We are tired, and wish our chapel was more illustrious. It is rough gray stone from who knows where - a piece of Africa? fragments of the moon? We do not care.

The Endless Roar

2007-12-29T03:36:00.000-05:00

Greetings from an alien distance. We apologize for our absence - surely you will forgive us, for we have left the Island for a time and are away at sea. It is the endless roar of waves that now capture our days. A time to retreat into static sights and sounds. To daydream on the bold aroma and sunny perches of Boatswain would cause us much sorrow. The clouds rush incourteously into the sea here. And so we hover and float and eat, all the while trying not to dream.

The Loneliness of Oceans

2007-08-19T17:36:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-12T17:03:00.001-04:00

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

2007-08-12T04:47:00.000-04:00

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.

A Sad Evening on Boatswain

2007-07-29T19:02:00.000-04:00

A sad evening for the birds of Boatswain. Early yesterday, an old storm petrel settled into a crag near the west mouth of the Passage. He had raised many chicks on the Island and was well liked by all species for his warm temperament. Despite great fatigue upon his arrival he sat with us for hours reporting many items of news gathered during his migration. While nesting this afternoon, he was attacked by a frigatebird and was killed. His body fell into the sea and was carried away.

A View from Ascension

2007-07-26T21:45:00.000-04:00

We cheerfully present to you the observations of Lieut. William Allen, Royal Navy and Zoological Society:

A View from Whip Valley, Ascension Island (1835)

This is a scene of indescribable grandeur. Seated at the brink of a precipice of seven or eight hundred feet, the base of which is lashed by the never-ceasing waves, the spectator is at a loss which to admire more, the vast expanse of ocean over which his eye uninterruptedly ranges, or the wild desolation of rocks and precipices rising from its bosom : they form the most powerful contrast to each other. Whip Valley appears to be the remaining part of a prodigious crater, the other having been destroyed by the volcanic throes and convulsions, which have transformed the island into a waste beyond the power of nature to restore to beauty and usefulness. Probably Boatswain Bird Island (our rocky perch!) is a fragment of the opposite side of the crater. It is covered with innumerable birds, and great numbers of sharks are constantly about its base. A cavern through the island admits the passage of a boat. Power's Peak is in the middle distance : the ascent is one of the most daring exploits of the cragsmen of the Island : few can boast of having reached it.

God's Teeth, Hello!

2007-07-25T23:51:00.001-04:00

Welcome to Boatswain Bird Island! Our feathers are damp from a recent storm, and now we must dry them in the sun. Forgive us our leisure, for we shall soon return to report on the state of our fellow birds. We keep our keen eyes skyward in the hopes of calling down our favorite seafaring friends from their lonely heights. May we melt their hearts here on lovely Boatswain!