Storms may be the greatest thing about ocean beaches. It's not just the magic of the suddenly changing horizon, when a sunny afternoon of frolicking waves turns in a moment to a frothing cauldron of fury. Neither is it just the raw power of the storm, that smell of crackling ozone as the lightening flares, and the feel of wind so strong it might lift you from the ground. The best thing about a storm is how the marine life rises to meet it, flourishing in the face of devastation.
We were scouting the coast of Golden Bay for birding spots when the storm came. The crystal blue waters darkened as the grey clouds rolled over them. Wind tore along the waves, turning the sea over and tossing fish out of sheltered coves into tumultuous currents. Riding the winds ahead of the rain front were the Sotty Shearwaters, come for a feeding frenzy in these frothing waters. Dark and agile, these birds blend easily into the storms they so love to hunt in. By the thousands they spread across the sky, swooping across the ocean and diving into the fish-filled waves.
Suddenly, in the midst of these dark birds, a shining giant of an albatross appeared, white wings flashing. Then two, then four, moving so fast and diving so deep we couldn't keep track of them. The enormous Black-Browed Mollymawks had come to join the feast. We watched them ride the storm until there was too little light to see.
The next morning we stalked along the beach, sneaking up on exhausted shorebirds resting with full bellies. And this is the other reason that the violent weather along the coast is so marvelous. For on the beach among the Caspian Terns (top) we found an Arctic Tern (bottom), a rare vagrant bird, blown in with the storm, resting contentedly on the New Zealand shore.
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