By Bob Zuur
WWF-New Zealand Marine Advocate
There was a sense of sadness onboard, which I admit to sharing at the time, when we left Cape Adare in Antarctica for the long leg to Campbell Island. Many felt that they were heading home.
Rebecca Bird, WWF's Marine Programme Manager had told me how much she loved Campbell Island and so it would prove for me. Lying 660km south of Bluff, Campbell is the southernmost of New Zealand’s sub-Antarctic islands.
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Bob Zuur is a marine biologist who is spending a month exploring Antarctica and the sub-Antarctic Islands to raise awareness of the area and its importance. His current work with WWF focuses on fisheries, offshore oil exploration and seabed mining, and on increasing protected areas in our marine environment. He will be documenting his travels here on 3news.co.nz.
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It was seen to be of strategic importance and so a coast watch station was set up during the Second World War. Men were stationed here to look for something they hoped they’d never see: enemy warships. They were to radio New Zealand, retreat to the hills and if necessary defend themselves from an attack that never came.
A gentle pootle on Zodiacs around Perseverance Harbour took us to one of the coast watch huts, now in disrepair, and to Homestead Flat where the sheep that were farmed from 1895 would graze until their fleeces were dry enough for shearing. The farming was a failure, just like on the other islands, and the last sheep were removed in 1991. Amazingly DOC cleared rats from the 11,000 hectare island in 2001 (the largest island in the world from which this was achieved). The weather station was automated and the staff departed in 1995. The island is now a haven for wildlife.
A brisk, cool wind was blowing in the afternoon as we walked up the boardwalk to Col Lyall at the head of Perseverance Harbour. The rugged landscape whipped the breeze into a steady gale at the lowest part of the saddle.
Dozens of huge white and black albatrosses surfed the wind on their three metre wings, sweeping back and forth like windsurfers on a southerly swell in Lyall Bay. The sight of royal albatrosses skimming across the sea and arcing up into the sky has gladdened the hearts of many a sailor but I'd never appreciated their aerobatic prowess, their aerial dexterity until that evening on Col Lyall. With a scarcely discernable twist of the wrist or a curl of the tail, they swept down a couple of metres above our heads to land and natter with their friends. Okay, landings often required a couple of attempts and some were less than spectacular, but no worse than a Cessna landing at Wellington airport in a crosswind.
After experiencing the belligerence of sea lions, it was such a pleasure to observe the gentleness of albatross displays and their mutual preening. With care I could crouch within a couple of metres, yet had no sense of intrusion. I will never forget this experience.
Royal albatrosses spend most of their lives at sea, foraging up to 1000km from their nests. Their travels bring them into contact with fishing vessels. A recent Ministry of Fisheries risk assessment calculated that fishing may kill more royal albatrosses than their population can sustain. About 230 birds may be killed each year, yet the 7000 breeding pairs produce just one chick every couple of years. Deaths have been reduced by about a third since 2000, but fishermen must do even more to reduce this mortality if these magnificent birds are to continue to soar over our oceans.
source: newshub archive
