Channel Islands: Discovering Self-Awareness

The island of Anacapa has beckoned to me for a long time. I still can’t put my finger on exactly why, but I knew our official family national park visit to the Channel Islands needed to be here. A few years ago, my husband and I visited Santa Cruz for three incredible days to celebrate our tenth anniversary. And yet, even from there, as I gazed west to the three tiny islets, Anacapa called to me.

In preparation for our trip I visited the National Park Service website, as I always do. There I found an unexpected (to me) line in bright orange: “WARNING: Western Gulls Nesting on Anacapa Island From April Through Mid-August. During this time, visitors will encounter seabird rookery conditions: guano, strong odor, constant noise, bird carcasses, and birds protecting their territory. If visitors consider these conditions adverse, it is advised that they visit another island.” Well, that could certainly make things interesting.

Sharing the Island

When we arrived at the island, the volunteer naturalist gave us a briefing about what to expect and a few rules to protect the birds and ourselves. We learned that about 10,000 western gulls were nesting along the one-square-mile of Anacapa land. Each bird family lays claim to about eight square feet, and that is their territory. If chicks wander out of their spot and into another, they will be attacked and likely killed. He instructed us to stay on designated trails, and always stop for chicks crossing the path. Otherwise, they may inadvertently follow us and end up as “trail runners,” severely decreasing their chances of survival.

After ascending the 157 stairs from the boat to the top of the island, it took a moment for the scene unfolding before us to register as reality. My eyes involuntarily widened at the sight of thousands of white gulls, surprisingly evenly spaced, dotting the entire expanse of the island. Some were flying, but most just stood in their spots, sizing up the new batch of visitors.

We met our first chicks on the trail before even reaching the visitor center. The naturalist was right – they were “cuter than a bug’s tush.” Once they were safely across, we continued hauling our gear to the campground in the middle of the island. As we made our way down the trail, we found some birds had established themselves extremely close to the path. They squawked loudly to let us know who was in charge and make sure we stayed away from their chicks.

So Annoying!

The website warning was absolutely correct. The squawking was incessant, only slightly diminishing after dark. We saw numerous birds eating remains of those who wandered too far. Most picnic tables had spinners to keep the birds off, but those with broken ones had more white spots on them than visible green paint. It only took a few hours for the girls to start singing, “Birds, birds, birds, I’m so sick of birds!” (Yes, my well-cultured children have seen My Fair Lady.) Sure, the babies were cute. But we couldn’t even leave our tent without the mother who had claimed the corner of our site telling us (loudly) that she did not approve of our presence. We even got dive-bombed a few times by some birds who were acting a bit bigger than they actually were.

One bird in particular stood out to me. She made her nest mere inches from the trail, which at that point was a yard or so lower, putting her closer to eye level for us than most of the others. We passed her multiple times as we traversed the island, and each time she squawked her fool head off. But as she was sitting on eggs, she never moved from that spot. All she could do was try to sound threatening. We never posed any real harm to her, always moving right along (well, except the time I briefly stopped to take her picture). But every time we passed, she let us know whose territory we were encroaching upon.

“Why do they have to be so annoying?” my oldest asked. Where I saw parents protecting their children and their homes from unknown intruders, she saw an overwhelming number of birds whose sole purpose in life was to bother her. And yet, how must we have looked to them? Giant creatures coming menacingly close to their young, charging through the invisible lines no other bird dares to cross. No wonder they squawked and dove at us!

Removing the Log

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says, “Do not judge others, and you will not be judged. For you will be treated as you treat others. The standard you use in judging is the standard by which you will be judged. And why worry about a speck in your friend’s eye when you have a log in your own? How can you think of saying to your friend, ‘Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,’ when you can’t see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend’s eye,” (Matthew 7:1-5, NLT).

Were these birds annoying? Sure. But that truly was a speck when we looked from their perspective and saw the log of our own presence. Once we saw ourselves for the intruders we were, we could minimize the stress we caused the birds, resulting in less intense shouting at us. Becoming self-aware and recognizing a reality different from our own allowed us to appreciate the homes we were visiting. Awareness of our role in the tension gave us the opportunity to lessen it.

Introspection is a vital part of becoming our best selves. And there are many angles that introspection can and should take. But we must not neglect introspection through the lens of others, particularly those we find annoying and difficult to be around. Without that self-awareness, all we hear is a bunch of squawking. With it, we may just find that we have more to do with that annoyance than they do.