Treading lightly

The atmosphere on Bird Island has changed significantly over the past few weeks. The sense of frenetic activity that accompanied the arrival of animals, their courtship, breeding and the birth of their young has settled into a more gentle and routine existence. Wandering Albatrosses sit serenely on their nests amongst the tussock, calmly incubating their eggs. Black Browed and Grey-headed Albatrosses get on with the business of feeding their growing chicks and the beaches have become less crowded with the departure many of the fur seals now that the breeding season is over. These changes have made some areas of the island more accessible to its human inhabitants. Though we still have to negotiate our way through a colony of protective mothers and roaming pups can now use the beaches to access the western end of the island without (much) fear of encountering territorial male seals.

This new aspect of Bird Island is a constant source of fascination to me. I am able to roam the beaches at my leisure and investigate the shoreline to my hearts content. There have been some surprises along the way. The remains of an old field hut close to the shore at Johnson cove is a reminder of human presence in an otherwise untouched landscape. There are other indications of our influence too. In Main Bay, between the tussock and the high tide line there is a low line of rocks arranged in a pattern that seems to indicate the outline of buildings and perhaps a slip or walkway. This could be the remains of an old field-hut, though available records do not support this, perhaps it is a remnant of the seal or whaling industry that was once so prolific around South Georgia. Either way it is an incongruous feature in an environment that is otherwise mercifully untouched by human activity. As the sea erodes away the sand from around the stones other items are also revealed. A large iron hook, beautifully wrought, lies rusting on the shoreline. I wonder about its provenance; perhaps it was attached to a rope used for lifting cargo or securing boats. Perhaps (as I like to think) it held a cooking pot suspended over a fire and provided warmth and sustenance to the hardy explorers who first camped along the shore.   As I walk along the waters edge I cannot overcome my beachcombers instincts and stare obsessively at the ground in the hope of finding other treasures. On some occasions an attractive stone or piece of brightly coloured seaweed catches my eye, on others it is the more disappointing presence of rope or plastic. This flotsam and jetsam serves not only as a reminder of the outside world but also of how no place, no matter how remote, is immune to the influence of man.

This influence was brought into sharp focus yesterday when I encountered a seal in the tussock above the base. Not an unusual occurrence in itself as at this time of year the tussock slopes are full of mothers and pups sheltering from the weather and escaping the attention of Skuas and Petrels on the beach.  In fact, it gets so crowded that the team have to take care when travelling across the hillside so as not to step on a pup or startle an unsuspecting mother who may feel obliged to fend off the human intruders. This particular seal drew my attention as a result of the length of bright green fishing net that was wrapped tightly around her neck. From where I stood I could see that it was biting deeply into her flesh as she nursed her pup. Raising the alert amongst the rest of the team we were able to capture the seal, which patiently allowed us to remove the noose that certainly would have killed her. Encounters like this bring a great sense of satisfaction but also feelings of unease. While I wholeheartedly believe in the utility of the research being done here, I also worry about our influence on the local environment. We make every effort to minimise our impact - we collect and dispose of our waste carefully, we minimise light and noise pollution and take care to avoid erosion along the hillsides and meadows. So many times we have been urged to walk lightly upon the earth and never has it felt so vital for us to listen.