Booby attack!
Each of the last several evenings, just before sunset, a few boobies have congregated around Oso, some brown-footed, some red-footed, and some masked boobies. At first, they wheel and soar, purportedly fishing around the boat. But out of the corner of their eye, they are watching us, and we can tell that they are scoping out places to land onboard for a night’s rest.
We are sensitive to animals’ needs, and the first time boobies came onboard at sunset we were good samaritans, letting them settle in for the night. But in the morning, there was hours of work to clean up after them. So, now there is a strict no-booby policy aboard.
Soon, each of the birds’ laps around the boat gets tighter and tighter as the birds try to time the roll and heave of the boat in the ocean swell. Then, one of them sees their chance and vectors in for a landing.
That’s when Oso’s crew springs into action – up on deck, arms waving wildly, screaming at the top our lungs in our best impression of whatever is the booby’s most fearsome predator.
A landing on the bow pulpit or solar panels is easily handled with a gentle nudge from a boathook, at which point the boobies wise up and start to aim for the spreaders. A few sweeps of a spare halyard annoys the boobies enough to render that perch untenable. So, they graduate to the top of the mast, at which point no amount of yelling, banging on the rigging, blowing of an air horn, or engaging in various other theatrics serves to dislodge them.
Until the sun sets, and we turn on our masthead navigation lights. The boobies don’t like the light (perhaps red or green light gets in their eyes while they’re trying to sleep.), and off they fly, consigned to a night bobbing gently on the warm ocean waves instead of riding on a sailboat.
All’s well aboard.
Day Six
05 32.2S 87 46.3W
153nm
