Tag Archives: Lady Musgrave Atoll

Silence is a rare commodity in the land of the sooty tern

Published October 24, 2015 in the “Ocean Watch” column, Honolulu Star-Advertiser ©2015 Susan Scott

On Lady Musgrave Atoll a black noddy does what it does best. ©2015 Susan Scott

On Lady Musgrave Atoll a black noddy does what it does best. ©2015 Susan Scott

LADY MUSGRAVE ATOLL, Great Barrier Reef >> After a 10-hour sail to this national park, I launched Honu’s dinghy to visit the island inside the circular reef. I expected a tranquil beach walk followed by a peaceful picnic. Instead I could barely hear myself think for the flocks of calling, courting and nesting seabirds.

Loudest were the sooty terns, black-and-white seabirds found throughout the world’s tropics, including Hawaii.

Wildlife workers affectionately call the 13-inch-long birds sooties but because the terns shriek 24/7; their nickname is wideawakes. The distinctive calls are a pleasant nighttime sound at sea when flocks of sooties, attracted to Honu’s mast-top lights, circle the boat. The incessant screeches are so shrill, however, that biologists working in sooty colonies wear earplugs. No one knows whether sooties sleep. A Hawaii biologist told me that she once tried to design a study to answer that question. She failed because the only way you can truly tell whether a person or animal is asleep is to monitor brain waves, and she couldn’t figure a way to attach electric encephalogram leads to the birds’ little heads.

Sooty Turn, AKA Wideawake. At Tern Island but same species. Tern Island was named after the sooties. ©2015 Susan Scott

Sooty Turn, AKA Wideawake. At Tern Island but same species.
Tern Island was named after the sooties. ©2015 Susan Scott

The other major noisemakers in this atoll’s 34-acre island are black noddies. Like sooties, these similar-size black seabirds with white caps are also widespread throughout the world’s tropics. Noddy calls, however, are easier on the ear, being more of a loud twang than a screech. Noddies are the courtliest of seabirds. Their name comes from prospective mates facing one another and nodding. The deep dips look like regal bows. When watching them I imagine one bird saying, “It’s an honor to meet you,” and the other replying, “The pleasure is all mine.”

Sooties are ground nesters but black noddies like trees. As a result, the island’s Pisonia forest is now packed with pinging, curtsying noddies looking for mates and building nests. When I sat on a log to eat lunch, busy noddies hopped around my outstretched feet collecting grass and twigs. The trees, in turn, like black noddies. Some chicks get hopelessly stuck in Pisonia trees’ gooey seeds. After the chick dies, its remains fall to the ground, adding essential nutrients to the soil. Park signs explain this natural process of fertilizing the trees and ask softhearted visitors not to save gummed-up chicks.

Black noddy. ©2015 Susan Scott

Black noddy. ©2015 Susan Scott

Because the Southern Hemisphere’s noddies are just beginning to lay eggs, I didn’t have the temptation. When I sailed here in June, midwinter, the only sounds I heard in the island’s dense forest were fat raindrops plunking onto fallen leaves. What a difference spring makes.


Marine biologist Susan Scott writes the newspaper column, “Ocean Watch”,
for the Honolulu Star-Advertiser, www.staradvertiser.com

©2015 Susan Scott

 

Atoll’s abundant wildlife, towering trees worth a visit

Published July 13, 2015 in the “Ocean Watch” column, Honolulu Star-Advertiser ©2015 Susan Scott

Lady Musgrave Atoll, Great Barrier Reef, Australia >> Last week Craig and I sailed to this atoll, 50 miles offshore from Bundaberg. Even though the trades were still blowing at 25 knots, bringing with them the usual waves and rain, residents assured us that the anchorage inside the atoll was safe. As good as the wildlife was in the marina, I wanted coral, and we set sail.

The trip was not what I expected.

After entering the narrow channel into the atoll, we dodged a leaping manta ray and multiple coral heads and dropped anchor. But even though the water was relatively calm inside the circular reef, we had a problem. Honu’s anchor chain had so rusted in our absence that we couldn’t trust it to hold the boat.

An hour later we had a second anchor off the bow and a safety line tied to the first. With the boat triple-leashed to the bottom, we launched the dinghy to visit the atoll’s famous island, a circle of land that takes about 20 minutes to walk across and an hour to walk around. Lady Musgrave’s island is remarkable because it holds an underground lens of fresh water that supports a mature Pisonia forest.

The Pisonia is not your average tree. Historically, the species dominated coral atolls throughout the Pacific, but after centuries of human habitation, introduced insects, rats and weeds, Pisonia forests became rarer than ever.

Today at Lady Musgrave Atoll (as well as at our own Palmyra Atoll), it’s possible to see Pisonia forests in all their grandeur.

The trees grow to 100 feet tall and have smooth, light gray trunks, some as big around as a compact car. The towering hand-shaped leaves form a whispering canopy that blocks wind and discourages undergrowth, yet the ashen trunks give the forest a light and airy feel. If ever there existed an elven glen filled with sentient trees, this is it.

From a windy, wave-washed beach we entered the forest on a park path and were instantly transported to a shelter of green and gray. When rain fell from passing squalls, the trees kept us mostly dry, their layers of leaves making music of the drops that trickled through.

Fearless, rust-colored rails (birds related to coots and moorhens) skittered here and there, eating insects and tiny crabs from the forest floor.

On the leeward side of the island, we emerged from the tree haven to see humpback whales breaching just outside the reef. It’s winter here in the Southern Hemisphere, and the Southern Ocean’s humpback whales have migrated to waters inside the Great Barrier Reef to mate and give birth.

It’s true that Lady Musgrave Atoll protects boats from rough seas, but at high tide, rowdy waves rose over the coral walls and rocked the boat so hard I got queasy. That, plus the shaky anchor situation, and weather too cold to go snorkeling, made us decide to leave Lady Musgrave for a more sheltered part of the park on the mainland.

As we sailed from the atoll, a white-bellied sea eagle hovered overhead and a pod of dolphins raced to the boat, all seeming to bid us farewell.

No, my experience at Lady Musgrave Atoll was not what I expected. It was better.


Marine biologist Susan Scott writes the newspaper column, “Ocean
Watch”, for the Honolulu Star-Advertiser, www.staradvertiser.com

©2015 Susan Scott