When You Picnic with a Blue-Footed Booby

So... imagine you're off to a picnic on the Galapagos Islands, west of Ecuador. Just for a day.

You've been invited by Nebou - a blue-footed booby.

Immediately, you try not to laugh.

First of all - his name.

Blue-Footed Booby? Booby?

You know the meaning of that word. Hands down, it is a weird name for a bird. Any bird.

The word 'booby' comes from a Spanish word bobo, which means clumsy, which refers to the way the birds walk on land. The word also means foolish, because of the birds' happy willingness to come toward humans and gaze at us curiously.

But at any rate, you have accepted his invitation and so, you catch a flight. You have a fleet of incredible planes that are light and powerful and can fly you anywhere in the world, even plop you down in the middle of the ocean in a couple of minutes, and you reach the island (about 600 miles west of Ecuador) and touch down safely in (say) an hour. Give or take.

It's a gorgeous island in an amazing setting - extraordinarily rich in wildlife. Just stepping off the plane makes you exhale deeply - a breath you didn't know you had been holding. Life is full. You're an amazing person who does amazing things and that keeps you very busy.

Nebou waddles out to meet you with his signature curious look. He stares at you... intensely. "Oh, hello? You look funny. What kind of bird have you become?"

You suppress your desire to giggle.

You want to be respectful.

You tell him your life has been hectic and you haven't had a vacation in a long time. So, you are looking tired. But you are fine.

Then he leads you to a beautiful spot. He wants to talk. So, you sit down on a rock and wait for him to begin.

After a moment, Nebou points to his feet.

"See these blue feet?" Nebou says.

"Yes," you say.

"They are light. They are pale. You know what pale blue feet mean?" Nebou says.

"Yes," you say. "Of course I do."

You DO know. The feet are a major source of pride and pleasure for the boobies. The color of their feet is a marker of health. If a blue-footed booby has bright blue feet, it means he's healthy and he can be a good Papa. If he has pale blue feet, he's not as healthy.

That means, the booby isn't eating enough of the right type of fish - anchovies and sardines.

"Every morning I fly out with my flock - we're some 150 - 250 strong - and we go in search of anchovies and sardines. Once we spot a shoal of fish, we close our wings and dive - we dive from high up and we dive FAST... but here is the problem. We don't catch much."

You nod.

He's right. Catching fish is a serious business. The oceans are emptier day by day. We eat so much fish, birds don't have any left. Who would have known even the vastness of the oceans wasn't enough space for fish to hide and grow - safe from human trawlers and fishing nets?

Blue-footed boobies dive from 60 feet high and 60 miles at hour. That's an incredible speed and from a height where the fish would not necessarily know they are about to be caught.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I truly am."

A pretty female blue-footed booby walks by. Suddenly, the moment is interrupted.

"Hey!" Nebou says to me. "Can you, please, give me a minute? Wait a second?"

"Sure," you say, wondering what was up.

Nebou follows the pretty female booby. He positions himself in front of her, flares his wings, and begins to raise his right foot and then left foot and dance. Wings. Right foot. Left foot.

The female looks past Nebou... at another male.

The second male - with BRIGHT BLUE feet - comes toward her and begins to dance as well.

Nebou looks at his feet and hangs his head... looking very, very sad.

Few minutes later, Nebou returns, crestfallen.

"She's not interested," Nebou says, quietly. "Why would she be? I'm not healthy nor strong. Not as much as that other fellow. He is bigger and better. He will be a much better Papa."

---

We spend the whole day together - Nebou and I. He showed me how few the fish were and I took notes. We walked around the booby colony and I saw how few boobies were breeding. The numbers are going down year after year. We need them to catch sardines, else they will be weak and unable to be good papas. Either they will not get a female... or even if they do, they might not be able to feed and raise their chicks after the eggs hatch.

If they cannot feed themselves, how would they feed their chicks?

It's evening... and you walk back to your plane after bidding goodbye to the incredible little blue-footed booby. The sun is behind the hills and it's quiet. You feel reflective... wondering if you will see Nebou again, the next time you come. He was a funny bird - but a good sort. Engaging. Agile. Graceful. Great diver. Awkward dancer. He wanted to be great Papa.

But unless we reduced our fish consumption, he wouldn't be one.

And slowly, there wouldn't be any boobies left.

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