High Saturation

Well, it’s been a whole week since the Farne Island experience in Northeast England. “See puffins, terns, seagulls and other nesting birds,” the brochure read. Oh boy, I thought, I’ll take my longest lens, convince my landloving husband to ride on a small boat across rough seas to Inner Farne, natural habitat and bird sanctuary just off the shores of Bamburgh, Northumberland.  There will be amazing photo opportunities, a sort of secret place that no one has ever heard of. And, the National Trust keeps it protected from too many tourists, since it’s kind of expensive. I could hardly sleep the night before (actually, that was the case the whole trip!) and I was thrilled in the morning to find sunshine early.

Our boat left at 12:15, allowing us time until the 1:30 opening time on Inner Farne to cruise around seals and the other uninhabited islands in the Farne group. I thought I was so smart with my camera loaded with a 400mm lens, albeit not a great birding lens. We even carried my tripod, a big pain. I should have known, as I looked around the boat, that other people had the same idea. There was a golden couple, the most attractive travelers I’d seen, armed with huge Canon cameras, hiking boots and warm looking parkas. They were Australians, on an 8 week holiday in England and Turkey. The economy must be better in Australia than in the States, I concluded quickly to myself. But, they sure look like they know what they’re doing, I decided.

After circumnavigating the less significant islands, seeing the begging seals and noticing the smell of guano of the seagulls and razorbills, and guillemots, we finally approached Inner Farne. There were four or five other boats in the harbor, but still no alarms were going off in my head. “Wear your hats, everyone,” the boat captain warned us, as we approached the dock.

A view of the cliffs from the boat

The handsome dock hand

An incredibly handsome dock hand greeted us, and told us to be careful not to step on any just hatched baby chicks on the walkways. The nesting terns were in the middle of the hatching season. That was an understatement. Babies were everywhere, as were their stressed and divebombing parents, who aimed directly for our heads and expensive camera equipment.

Tern chick

Hatchlings emerging

Protective parent hovering over the nest

Tern dinner

It took 30 seconds to realize that a major photography workshop (s) were/was going on there on Inner Farne. There were huge tripods and camera lenses covered in camouflage that must cost $10,000! Pride goeth before a fall, I realized, and how insignificant and amateurish I am. I couldn’t even figure out where to try to aim my camera, what with 100 photographers in a very small space, and baby chicks underfoot, and shrieking nesting terns crashing against my head. My husband quickly disappeared, and I wondered if he’d been knocked out by a stressed bird. In fact, when I finally found him, he claimed to be cold, and I began to notice that a blue sky was turning to no color, and then gray at the horizon. At least we aren’t dealing with summer midday sun, I thought.

Wandering up the path, after enduring aerial assaults constantly, there was suddenly a sort of clearing, and then the puffin area! What comic relief. I even tried to ignore the man with the huge lens and a Nikon Professional shirt. I wondered who he is…someone really famous?

The Sigmund Freud model

Very quickly I realized that setting up the tripod would take time on those rocks, and I had forgotten the hex wrench and the foot on my lens was loose. It wasn’t a good time to have an argument with my spouse, who goes through life trying to fix things, especially since the clock was ticking and I only had half an hour left. So, hand held it was going to be, despite his loud protestations. Besides, I didn’t want Mr. Nikon Professional to even notice me.

The island was basically stone, but it was covered with weeds and there were small holes everywhere, which was shelter and egg hatching ground for the puffins.

Sand eels for dinner

Three Little Puffins

Group conversation

Odd Man Out

The weeds became beautiful over the hour or so we were on the island, and the Queen Anne’s Lace and thistles and chicory provided color in an otherwise colorless environment. Most amazing of all was a small church on Inner Farne, an ancient church, with beautiful strained glass and carved pews. What a juxtaposition of nature and culture in a tiny hostile place!

Church on Inner Farne with mist coming in

An unlikely place for stained glass

Ancient church

The guide on the boat over said that a banded puffin from Inner Farne had shown up in New South Wales, Australia. Is that possible? Had I been a bird on Inner Farne, I probably would have looked for a new house, too, what with the overpopulation of avians.

Looking back, I would have done things differently, specifically I would have tried to isolate the puffins more successfully, since a whole field of puffins gives the viewer a difficult time of where to look. I would have changed lenses to my 70-200 midway through, since getting up close to birds wasn’t a problem. Ha! Hardly! They got REALLY close. I would have worn a hardhat, and I would have changed apertures with great abandon. It was an amazing experience.

Just before we got back on the boat, we had to walk through the minefield again of terns. My husband acted totally unfazed by a particularly aggressive tern, and even stuck out his hand and thumb in an uncomplicated gesture showing his lack of fear. I realized at that moment that Billy was missing Homer, his African Grey parrot.

Hat's off to this experience

I have no problem with this

Napoleon did this

There must be something intellectual about this

Oh dear. If Joni could see this...

Head scratch

Homer plays this game with me...

Farne Island sentinel

The trip back to the mainland was shrouded in grey mist, and as we closed the doors of the rented car, the skies opened up. Didn’t the birds find cover in the driving rain?