A Brit abroad

Merry xmas, more Surprise photos

In the run-up to Christmas madness, I haven't managed any more birding trips, with a confiding Black Woodpecker (Pic noir) on campus, and 2 Water Pipits (Pipit spioncelle) seen while out running around the Bassin de Bures being the highlights. I hosted a photo-swapping dinner with fellow Surprise Island survivors Xim (XC), Elodie (EG) and Stéphane (SC), who just yesterday was awarded his PhD for his work on the island, with honours and the highest commendation of the jury - congratulations Dr Caut! For your viewing pleasure, and to tide the blog over until I get myself a new camera, I've uploaded a selection of their photos from the island (copyright them, obviously). Merry Christmas all, and here's to a bird-filled 2007!

Bat out of hell, or young Lesser Frigatebird? (XC)

Face to face (EG)

Inquisitive young Red-footed Booby (EG)

Xim, who spent more time on the beach than us (working, allegedly), managed to capture this young Masked Booby at feeding time (XC)

Masked Booby and nosey neighbour (XC)

The 'making of' all those Masked Booby sunset shots (XC).

Steph and I de-ticking a young Brown Booby (EG).

After a day in the field, it wasn't just the birds that needed de-ticking! (XC)

Not for the faint-hearted, these shots. The burden of ticks on some of the chicks was enormous (SC).

In case you thought life was a beach on the island... poor Stephane was unfortunately hyper-sensitive to tick bites (XC).

Elodie laying rat traps to check if last year's eradication had worked (SC).

Apparently so: the only things we caught were hermit crabs (SC)!

Cutting transects through the island wasn't easy... (EG)

Pretending to enjoy a vegetation survey while being attacked by ticks and barbed plant seeds (SC).

A real monster-sized hermit crab attacking a coconut (the smaller one was as big as my hand) (XC).

A two-faced ghost crab (XC).

Smiling for the camera (XC).

Lost, season 4? (XC)

Washing up, Surprise Island style (SC).

How not to cook spaghetti (XC).

Luckily for me, this sign was correct! (EG)

All smiles after our Kagu encounter (EG).

The perks of being an ecologist

Towards the end of November I had the most extraordinary piece of luck. A PhD student in our research group has a long-running project studying the flora and fauna on an uninhabited island north of New Caledonia, and with just over a week's notice I was recruited to join him on this year's mission! At this point in time I had no idea where New Caledonia was (other than that it was a long way away), and more importantly, no knowledge what birds to expect. After failing to find a relevant field guide anywhere in France, I sent my poor old Dad to Foyle's bookshop in London, and he was able to post me Doughty's guide, which arrived just a couple of days before departure. Fortunately the 24 hours of airplane between Paris and Noumea was ample time to brush up on the relatively small number of bird species found in the region (90 or so). In all I managed 59 species (including several of the endemics), over half of which where lifers. However, the whole experience of spending 5 days on a deserted island about as far from civilisation as you can get was simply mind-blowing. I rescued a turtle! I swam in shark-infested waters! I got to handle Masked and Brown Booby chicks! In case that's all sounding too glamorous, we worked hard cutting transects with machetes in the sizzling austral summer, and got covered with bird poo and hungry avian ticks. My beloved Nikon CoolPix 4300 finally died on me (RIP) after 3 years of use and abuse. Fortunately Christmas is just around the corner (parents!). Read on for a full account of the trip and many, many photos.

Birding Noumea

After 14 hours of flying, we arrived at Osaka airport, where I was able to digibin this Black-backed Wagtail on the tarmac. A distant all-black cormorant and a large dark-mantled gull (Slaty-backed?) were the only other birds seen.

9 more hours of flying and several terrible movies later, and we finally arrived in Noumea, the main city in New Caledonia. Our base was the youth hostel, which has a decent view over the town and harbour.

It also has a good-sized garden, and I spent a productive few hours in the early morning and late afternoon getting acquainted with the local birdlife. The first birds I saw were a large flock of Glossy Swiftlets buzzing around at head height (probably due to the strong wind and low clouds). There were also several Dark Brown Honeyeaters, an abundant and noisy endemic that can be seen just about anywhere on the island.

The attractive endemic Green-backed White-eye is equally widespread.

In contrast, two or three Silvereyes on the approach road to the youth hostel were the only individuals I saw.

Other native species seen in the vicinity of the youth hostel included Fan-tailed Gerygone, Grey Fantail and a dusk gathering of Rainbow Lorikeets (in spite of being noisy, colourful and gregarious, I have yet to obtain a decent photo of one).

Introduced bird species are, sadly, also abundant around human habitations, most notably the Common Mynah,

but also Spotted Dove, Red-vented Bulbul and House Sparrow.

Thanks to an unseasonal cyclone raging in the north, we had an extra day on the mainland, so I asked Stephane to drop me off at the Auberge at Mont Koghi for a couple of hours' birding. Unfortunately, the anticyclone was depositing bucketloads of rain on this high-elevation site. I naiively thought that the dense forest might offer some shelter, but twenty minutes later I was soaked to the skin, with 2 Southern Shrikebills and a single Yellow-bellied Robin the only birds seen. I retreated to the auberge to dry off, and over a couple of cups of coffee was able to add Metallic Pigeon and this Striated Starling to my list.

The afternoon was spent stocking up on chocolate, cookies and dramamine ready for the 40-hour boat odyssey the next day...

The boat trip

With the cyclone seemingly fizzled out, we arrived at Noumea harbour at 5am for our departure on the Quo Vadis.

A few Silver Gulls and a lone Crested Tern were loafing in the harbour. The first day of the voyage was spent heading north along the rugged west coast of New Caledonia.

We stayed within the shelter of the barrier reef for as long as possible. Roseate Terns were common on the nearshore, gradually replaced by mixed flocks of Wedge-tailed Shearwaters and Sooty Terns along the reef edge, with smaller numbers of Black-naped Terns and noddies. Two rather acrobatic dolphins (species unknown) breached a few times close to the coast. We crossed into the open seas at the Passage de St Vincent, where masses of chocolate-coloured Wedge-tailed Shearwaters were a joy to behold. I caught sight of a similar-sized, pale-bellied bird that I initially thought was a pale morph of this species. However, it had dark underwings and described longer arcs with fewer wing-flaps than the wedge-tails - Tahiti Petrel! As the day wore on I was treated to fantastic views of several individuals crossing the wake (though I only managed one poorly digibinned shot).

Before this trip I had seen exactly two Pterodromas - one Cook's and one Dark-rumped Petrel. I was therefore delighted to see at least 50 beautiful Gould's Petrels bouncing over the high seas (it's possible there were also some Black-winged Petrels out in the distance, but none at IDable range). As you can imagine, I was more than happy to spend the day glued to my binoculars.

For the non-birders, the voyage was somewhat less interesting!

Overnight, we reached the choppier waters to the north of the mainland, and very few birds were seen the next morning. Finally, Brown and Red-footed Boobies started to appear around the boat, and a distant speck of dry land appeared on the horizon: our destination, Surprise Island.

Welcome to Surprise Island

Surprise Island is a small (700x400m) oval island emerging from an atoll lined with coral reefs, about 230km north of the northern tip of New Caledonia (and a long way from anywhere else).

We set up camp on the sandy shore.

The beach is home to many crabs, wintering shorebirds from the northern hemisphere, and at night, egg-laying Green Turtles.

I had a noisy neighbour - this young Masked Booby honked indignantly every time I left the tent (mercifully, after a few days he learned to ignore me).

The interior of the island is covered with vegetation - a dense forest of Pisonia favoured by nesting Red-footed Boobies, and intermediate height shrubs used by Great and Lesser Frigatebirds. There is an interior plane used by nesting Brown and Masked Boobies and roosting Pacific Golden Plovers. Parts of the plane are riddled with Wedge-tailed Shearwater burrows. Red-tailed Tropicbird is a scarce nester. This year we didn't find any nests, although a calling pair circling the island was a hopeful sign.

The only signs of human activity are a weather station (doubling as a Brown Booby nest),

... and a rusting locomotive from the days when the bird guano was harvested commercially.

The sunsets from the beach were pretty spectacular.

At night, the only light comes from the moon.

Our nightly aperitif of rum and peanuts.

Stephane and Elodie at work, watched by a Red-footed Booby.

While I usually had my hands full during the day, each morning I got up at 5 to walk around the island and take as many photos as possible. As you can imagine, I had to severely edit the number of photos, and I've grouped the best of the photos by subject below. Enjoy!

Red-footed Boobies

An abundant nester on the island.

We saw chicks of all ages.

The adults come in two colour morphs, white and cafe au lait.

The subadults were very curious about us, and I was able to get some nice, close-up flight shots.

Ever wonder where Hitchcock got his inspiration?

Masked Boobies

The least abundant of the boobies on the island, but in my opinion, the prettiest.

The adult birds were pretty oblivious to us, and I was able to get some pleasing low-angle shots against the sunset.

Brown Boobies

This species is usually abundant in the plane, but we found very few with chicks this year. In the last couple of days, a large arrival of adults was noted along the beaches - maybe the breeding season is just a little late this year.

Adult in coconut palm.

Subadult in the plain.

Look closer, and you can see a large infestation of ticks in the facial skin below the bill and in front of the eye.

One of our jobs on the island was to de-tick some of the booby chicks - I was put in charge of catching the chicks and holding that dagger-sharp bill shut (I've got the scar to prove it). I found the whole process equally fascinating, stressful and repulsive. The burden of ticks on some of these birds is enormous, especially on the feet, where the ticks leave huge holes in the webbing between the toes. As you can see, some of the adult ticks get pretty big!

Frigatebirds

Two species (Great and Lesser Frigatebird) nest on the island. I have no idea how to tell them apart when they're perched...

... but in flight the size difference is obvious enough (2 Lessers, a Great and a Red-footed Booby pictured here).

Adult male Lessers also have a white axillary triangle which is absent in Great.

We saw several downy chicks,

and some smart red-headed fledglings.

Note the tick wedged in the base of this bird's bill.

Terns

Large numbers of both Brown and Black Noddy are present on the island...

.... with Brown being more common.

This shot illustrates the difference in size, plumage tone, and extent of white on the head between the two species.

Black Noddy is a smart bird!

7 Bridled Terns were loafing around the island. Will they breed?

Crested Terns preferred to sit on offshore rocks. I grabbed this shot of one on the beach just before it was evicted by the incoming wave.

Gleaming white Black-naped Terns were often seen foraging over the reef, but rarely came ashore.

Shorebirds

I was surprised to find so many shorebirds around the island, given that there's no mention of their presence in the (albeit scarce) literature on the island's birds. This mixed group contains Ruddy Turnstones, the arse end of a Red-necked Stint, Wandering Tattler and Pacific Golden Plover.

I was able to get some great close views of Wandering Tattlers.

The Pacific Goldies were more obliging than the birds I used to see in California. The ground colour of these wintering birds ranged from warm golden...

... through intermediate

... to very pale and washed out (note Red-necked Stint peeking out from behind).

The only other species present were 2 Whimbrels, and a single Greater Sand Plover.

Green Turtles

I saw one or two females every day on my early morning walks, returning to the sea after a night of egg-laying.

The first individual I found was exhausted, having burrowed its way into a sand bank stacked with heavy logs.

In its desperation to escape, it had even dug up and cracked some of the eggs it came ashore to lay.

After some half an hour of digging with my bare hands and shifting logs, I managed to clear a path for her. I confess to being a little misty-eyed as I watched her return to the ocean.

This one looked like it was making a snow angel!

Sharing a beach with these magical creatures was definitely one of the highlights of the trip for me.

Sharks!

Given that there's no fresh water on the island, we had to take our baths in the sea. This might sound idyllic, but the waters were regularly patrolled by some decent-sized reef sharks. As you can see, they weren't shy!

The smaller, young Black-tipped Reef Sharks often appeared at our feet in very shallow water.

One evening we tried to catch a fish for our supper (makes a change to canned chili con carne). Within a minute this Grey Reef Shark had taken the bait.

We reeled him in and tried to remove the hook from his mouth. I vaguely recall one of my California buddies (Wes? Taylor?) telling me that you can immobilise a shark by turning it upside down (does something to its sense of balance apparently). We tried this, it did indeed stop thrashing around and we were able to remove the hook.

Gingerly, we returned it to the water, and after reorienting itself it sped off into the reef.

Other Surprise Island critters

Hermit crabs of all shapes and sizes were common throughout the island. The larger ones often came out at night and finished the leftovers from dinner.

The ghost crabs were pretty skittish and hard to photograph, burrowing into wet sand at the slightest threat.

This attractive green crab was often seen in the rockier parts of the shore - anyone know what it is?

At high tide moray eels were often seen lurking in the shallows.

We laid insect traps around the island, catching some large crickets, a few unfortunate skinks and this enormous vivid green caterpillar.

This attractive fungus was common in the understory, and had the appearance of sliced carrots.

Snorkelling in the Baie de Citrons

Our return from the island was rather hurried, as the captain had received reports of incoming bad weather. The water was indeed very choppy, and I quickly gave up hope of sleeping in the bedrooms at the front of the catamaran, after being bounced around like I was on a trampoline! Instead I took a double dose of dramamine and lay out on the cabin floor. Mercifully the captain had us dock in the north of the mainland, saving us another day of boat travel. Around the port at Koumac, I observed 4 Purple Swamphens and a Sacred Kingfisher in the pond next to the port, while Common Waxbills foraged on the lawns. The captain drove us down to the south of the island in a hair-raising three hours - too fast to ID many birds save for a few Whistling Kites, a lone Swamp Harrier and a White-faced Heron in mangroves near Noumea.

After cleaning the experimental equipment (and ourselves!), we spent the late afternoon in the Baie de Citrons. I had a disposable waterproof camera, and as usual, less than half the shots came out usable, but nonetheless we saw some great stuff. One of the emblematic species of New Caledonia is this sea snake, known locally as the tricot rayé (stripy jumper). A little easier on the ear than the English name (Yellow-lipped Sea Krait)!

Apparently it's extremely venomous, but pretty docile. Another blue-black species of sea snake was present in good numbers, but I don't know what it is.

Another highlight was this ray (a Blue-spotted Stingray, I believe) that zipped out from underneath me in the shallows.

Bennett's Butterflyfish eating coral.

This coral glowed lilac in the sunlight.

A shoal of stripy fish.

Frantic birding in the Riviere Bleue

If there's one bird that birders want to see while in New Caledonia, it's the Kagu. This flightless endemic only numbers about 600 individuals in the wild, thanks to introduced dogs, rats and pigs, and the only reliable place to see them is the Parc Provincial de la Riviere Bleue. As I pointed out, this was a work trip, so I only had one day (my last on the island), and one chance to get there. Stephane and Elodie seemed amenable to the idea of a visit, the only problem being that we had to first drop off Xim at Noumea airport. This meant we wouldn't get to the park until late morning at best. The park closes at 5, it takes a good 20 minutes to drive between the entrance and the trailhead car park, and from there it's a 10km hike to get to the forest which holds Kagu. Timing was going to be tight....

In the end, we arrived at the trailhead at 1130. In the mid-day heat, I set off at a (literally) blistering pace for the forest, stopping only once on the arid part of the walk to admire a singing male Rufous Whistler. It took me about an hour of brisk walking to reach the forest edge, where a rasping, hissing noise and a fleeting black blob was to be my only, unremarkable, experience of the rare Crow Honeyeater. Several noisy New Caledonian Friarbirds were seen along the length of the trail. Somewhere close to the vicinity of the Pont Canoe bridge, some rustling in the undergrowth attracted my attention. Grey back.... orange legs... Kagu!!! I watched this mega bird feeding in the undergrowth, turning leaves like an oversized thrush and stalking rail-like through the forest. Magic.

With the pressure well and truly off, I could take my time a little in the forest, and quickly picked up the first of several New Caledonian Flycatchers and Streaked Fantails. I paused to scope a second Kagu foraging near the pont Kaori. After my digital camera died on the island, I borrowed our lab's ancient digital camera, but it didn't work so well with the scope and all I managed was a blurry photo of a Kagu's arse! Two hours after starting the walk, I arrived at the Grand Kaori, a huge pine endemic to the island.

Here I was thrilled to see a New Caledonian Crow with a small twig in its bill, trying to scoop out grubs on a branch. A enormous NC Imperial Pigeon flew across the path in front of me. Even though the clock was ticking, I decided to press on to the river access at Pourina. This turned out to be a wise decision, and I had stunning scope views of the beautiful endemic Cloven-feathered Dove. These were the best shots I could manage with the naff lab camera.

Two Red-fronted Parakeets flew over me at this spot too. I pushed my luck even further by heading on to the Pont Germain, and was rewarded with a pretty NC Myzomela singing in the canopy.

Having stopped to chat to a couple of park researchers, I was now running seriously late for my 4:30 rendezvous with Stephane and Elodie. Getting locked in the park would have been disastrous given that my flight was leaving late that evening. Salvation came in the form of Julien Le Breton (and father) who, ironically, I had been in touch with about birding in the park. They obligingly offered me a ride back to the car park, saving me a good 90 minutes walking. Just after we passed the Grand Kaori, we had the very good fortune to see a third Kagu, this time at the road's edge. We stopped the car, and I managed a few record shots of the bird before it disappeared back into the undergrowth.

We picked up Stephane and Elodie en route, and were back at the car a good hour before the park closed. In the last of the daylight we decided to drive as far as the Madeleine Falls, where I picked up my last lifer of the trip, a pair of Barred Honeyeaters.

After a celebratory beer and chocolat liegeois in Noumea, I arrived in good time for my 130am flight from Noumea. A Barn Owl dancing across the the road was my final and 59th bird species of an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime, trip.