39 days and counting - 1 August to 8 August

An Atlantic Petrel, winkled from its burrow, ready to be measured, weighed , ringed and tagged (Photo by Michelle)

Well first of all, many apologies to those of you expecting your regular Monday morning fix of my ramblings but last night was forty days until the ship arrives, forty days with only the seven of us on the island. So we had a big party. I had planned to write this post earlier yesterday but I was stuck in the kitchen, cooking. It was my turn to cook and so I had to make all the food for the party and didn't get a chance to come and burble inanities to you, dear Faithful Reader.

Burrowscoping. My right arm is in the burrow up to my shoulder, I am holding the camera end of the burrowscope in my right hand (the silver tube is the battery pack) and the yellow box in my left hand is the monitor showing the images from the camera (Photo by Michelle)

It is now Monday and for some reason I do not have a hangover, I can't come up with a reason why. Things got a little crazy last night and because Robyn was there, I am sure that there will be lots of photographic and video evidence. Not that we will ever see it because getting photos out of Robyn is like getting blood from stones. Hopefully by the time we leave she will have relented and shared her photos with the rest of us.

A GLS mounted on the leg of an Atlantic Petrel (photo by Michelle)

August has lived up to its reputation as the worst weather month thus far. There was only one day last week that I could get to do some of the final round of herbicide spraying, every other day was either too windy, too rainy or both. I really hope that the weather will let up a little so I can finish the herbicide work (the last time EVER!). Otherwise in the gaps I have been doing some burrowscoping to recover more of the GLS on the Atlantic Petrels.

Michelle with an Atlantic Petrel. Sometimes their burrows are too deep to grab them and you have dig an alternative entrance and chase the bird out the other side.

Another reason to hope that the weather lets up a little is that cabin fever is setting in again. We all take it hard, especially now that there is so little time left on our own but since we are all experiencing the same feelings, we try our best to put on a brave face and at least pretend that all is well, even when we know that it is not. I say we but there is one exception: Mornay. Mornay is like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, except that the Mr Hyde personality is the most prominent one rather than the Dr Jekyll. He throws tantrums, refuses to eat with us, sulks in his room, doesn't greet people and is generally a thunder cloud of unpleasantness. John and Leonie, for some unfathomable reason, continue to humour him, saying that he is depressed and homesick and needs his space, as if none of the rest of us aren't. If anyone of the younger people in base was to behave as he does, we would be called into a meeting with John and Leonie and be told to act like adults and grow up. Oddly enough it seems that the most mature people on the island are the most immature. The next thirty nine days can't pass fast enough.

The preliminary data from a GLS recovered from an Atlantic Petrel. The red dot is Gough. It appears that they spend much time off the coast of Brazil and also at the the Falkland Islands. The lines heading out of the picture to the north are probably noise and will be removed once the analysis is complete.