Birds of Isla De La Raza, San Carlos, Mexico

Off in the distance we could see Isla De La Raza (Honeymoon Island) an apparent barren lifeless lump of volcanic rock jetting out aimlessly in Bahia Delfin (the Bay of Dolphins). As we got closer… this tiny outcropping, half a mile off shore, began to expose more of her secrets. The surface of this rock was in full motion and life is teaming everywhere. We made landfall on a small sandy beach on the east side, Fritz, Dave and myself. For most of the year this island sits quietly, forgotten by time, patiently waiting for each spring to once again transform stillness into an active rookery of total chaos. The birds were everywhere…thousands!! As we ventured off the rubber dingy our first encounter was with agitated seagulls. The gulls had claimed the lowland beach area and with chicks about… no gull was happy to see us. The Females flew above our heads squawking the most ears piercing sound at the three foreign stalkers. As carefully as was possible, we meandered around one nest after another, insuring we did not step on the chicks scurrying at our feet… little ones were everywhere. Camouflaged amongst the low growing cactus some of the young cowered in the sparse shade and hide from the searing sun and the tres intruders. Others moved in total reckless abandon around us. We moved up the embankment from a sandy beach to a weathered reddish lava rock landscape and with that the species nesting changed too. Now we had Great Blue Herons building enormous nests amongst the spires of the 18-foot tall cactus. Picture the pipes of a great church organ, like fingers stretched skywards the cactus made a wonderful foundation for a large aviary. Interwoven from pipe to pipe are large dead tree limbs methodically layered to create the perfect cradle in which to protect the next generation of herons; while also making for a watchful perch for the cautious eye of the adult heron. The herons watched us approach with their heads bobbing and their great long necks expanding and retracting in a kind of warning ritual that perhaps other birds would understand…but not us. We never got to close, but I’m sure for Mama-Son our mere presence on the island was far too close. We could see through the sticks three downy-feathered chicks helplessly bobbing in the nest trying to see what all the commotion was about, all the while Mama trying to keep them hidden from view. It was an experience of overwhelming proportion as thousands of birds came into view as we continued our accent. Not just a few here and there, but every square inch of this isolated forgotten island were covered in life and death. Young chicks scampering about; bones of the fallen scatter here and there at our feet; eggs, some still waiting to hatch and others just pieces of what they once were just days ago; punctuated by hordes of male and female birds yakking, pushing and shoving. The island was far from dead; it was more alive than any big urban city I have ever walked upon. In one direction alone I saw three types of herons, two types of pelicans, four varieties of gulls, oystercatchers, stilts, and birds I cannot yet identify. If one can get past the smell, which is hard for a person such as myself, who boasts of a nose like a bloodhound, the drama before us was mind blowing. But the smell was so putrid; that even breathing continually through my mouth I could taste the rank odor of death and decades of avian droppings. Beyond the smell, the sounds are what transported me to a place out of this time. The cacophony of noise, so prehistoric in composure that I was sure we had teleported back 120 million years into Earth’s Jurassic period. If you ever imagined what dinosaurs sounded like… this was it! The shrill from the baby pelicans as they tried to feed from the mother’s bill had a quality that seemed unnatural on Earth in the time of human domination. We moseyed towards some of the elevated nest, sitting 2 feet off the ground in the small arms of low growing desert cactus, barely suitable for a lizard home, yet huge pelicans had nested a top. At one point, as we came closer to a pelican nest the mother raised up from the nest and stood her ground with outstretch wings beating the hot air with agitation to let us know clearly we had come far enough. Five, maybe six, feet her wings stretched as her three young cowered and squawked under her watchful eye. All the while another pelican circled over our heads, flying past us and then back out for another strafing run at the three creatures disturbing their ritual. From hour old hatchlings, to big white-feathered birds still waiting to take to the sky on their first flight, the sights of nature in its entire splendor graced our senses. We left the birds and the island no worse for the visits but an indelible mark was left on our minds that will long stay present in the joys of life. DB Waldman 5/24/13