99 Tears

Black tears.

I counted ninety nine dead birds on the beach from Ritchie Point at the mouth of the Hopkins to the Flume beach access point.

It was a Rachel Carson moment, the silent cries of body count growing ever louder on a seemingly normal spring day.

Other birds were out and about, gnats were buzzing around discarded seaweed, and rabbits were observed in plentiful number on the way to Point Ritchie. (Too early in the day for wallaby sightings though.)

It turned out that life was going on in normal fashion too for the migratory black shearwaters, colloquially known as the muttonbird.

As I learned from my research assistant, Ann, there had been what is known as a wreck, a mass die off of birds in migration.  Basically, the muttonbirds had run out of gas, literally only a few kilometers from their nesting grounds.

The shearwaters spend warmer months in the arctic and Siberian seas. They migrate in North American winter months to the warmer summer waters of Australia and New Zealand where they breed. They typically return to same nesting grounds each year to mate, clean out old nests (burrows in sand dunes), and use them again for egg laying. Interestingly, the adult birds then leave for a return migration to northern waters. The shearwater youngsters hatch on their own in due course, and a few months later they too leave for northern waters.

If there is not enough food upon initial arrival of the adults migrating south, or if bad weather delays the journey, a wreck may ensue. Apparently this last happened locally in 2009. 

It was a sobering moment to walk through the carnage. Although somewhat palliative to take subsequent solace in the normalcy of this wreckage, there is a wound still not quite healed.