Today Falkland Island radio highlighted the wind chill on the islands and its effect on newly shorn sheep.
I got up early and wandered through the house, enjoyed the view from the conservatory and then settled in the sitting room to await the others.
Today's plan had been to fly to Bleaker Island to the south on one of the small aircraft of the Falkland Island Government Air Service. FIGAS as it is known do not run schedules but plan their drop offs and pick-ups around the needs of its passengers each day. This can mean that you are dropped off at your destination only to be collected again two or three hours later which, when visiting an island to explore the wildlife, just isn’t long enough.
We fell into this trap today and so an alternative trip to Merrill Farm a short drive to the north of Stanley was arranged. I would be leaving at 12.30 with Masatake so I had time to go with Nigel to the Boxing Day races where Nigel was obliged to present some prizes and be interviewed by local radio. We arrived at the course - small and uneven and more of a rough field - and joined the small throng celebrating this key event in the Stanley calendar. The small grandstand and race office were both faded and peeling and had clearly seen better days although they suited the general character of the place. Two fast food vans and an ageing porta-cabin bar completed the picture and served the needs of the small crowd that was gathering. The feeling was more of a village point-to-point but the setting was magnificent with the mountains to the west forming the backdrop for the event.
After one race and a brief wander around I walked the ten minutes back to Government House and prepared for the short drive north to Merrill Farm, another place that now provided tourist services in addition to farming. My hope was to see Rock Hopper and maybe Macaroni penguins, only here in the islands during summer and so something I missed when last here.
It was a long, slow drive from the farmhouse to the coastline and the penguins; five miles off road and without tracks in the shadow of craggy, granite hills as Adrian our driver picked his way through the rough ground and around small, still ponds black with peat. We bumped over tussock grass and fern, had a smoother ride over the heather-like and white flowered 'diddle dee' and eventually arrived close to the smoother grass near the coast, patched red with sorrel.
We visited a colony of Magellan penguins that burrow into the peaty ground. We saw a colony of Gentoo nesting in the open near a beautiful stretch of white sandy beach, inaccessible to us because of land mines. And then finally we drove to the Rockhoppers who live on rocky outcrops on land often some distance from the sea and as their name implies waddle and hop around the rocks and between their nests and the sea.
It is entertaining watching penguins. Within a colony they will be hopping, running around, chasing each other, squawking, greeting each other noisily or just standing around seemingly oblivious to everything around them. It is easy to get transfixed by their antics, trying to see some sense or logic in their behaviour. Rockhoppers seem to be the most mischievous and noisy, Gentoo are less so but seem to be more smelly and the King, as its name might imply, stands around behaving in a more serious and regal manner. The Rockhopper is very distinctive with its small plume of yellow feathers above its red eyes. Amongst the second colony we also saw a Macaroni penguin, the fifth of the penguins native to the islands. To me it seemed like a Rockhopper with orange rather than yellow eye feathers.
As we drove around we had time to question Adrian on life in the Islands. Originally from Lymington, he had arrived here when his parents came out on a contract and had stayed. He told us of the education of his children, a travelling teacher would spend three weeks living with the family before moving to other isolated families to do the same before returning a few weeks later. He spoke of his cows which wandered his land, a small breeding herd but not used for commercial purposes. He would get milk from them and occasionally slaughter one at Christmas to share amongst his workers. And he spoke about his sheep which provided his income outset tourism. Falklands sheep are hardy beasts that require little looking after and produce a good quality of wool that requires little cleaning prior to use; there is little in the way of shrub and trees in the islands that can get snagged in the animal’s coat.
The trip over, we were collected by Nigel and Emma and headed back to Stanley. Once again the evening was spent collecting food from the garden and communally preparing dinner in the large industrial style kitchen of the house. And once again it was a late night.
No comments:
Post a Comment