Filfla – By Justin Gatt |
Filfla is an uninhabited islet and the southernmost point in the Maltese archipelago. From mainland Malta it stands out against the sky and the sea, a plateau surrounded by large boulders. The island is home to colonies of sea birds, and is one of the main nesting sites of the Mediterranean Storm-petrel. Being one of the few Maltese strict nature reserves, Filfla is not accessible to the public, and a research permit is required to land on the rocky shore. Additionally, access is logistically complicated and dangerous, as the collapsing plateau has filled the surrounding waters with submerged boulders.
Luckily the sea is flat when we get on the wooden boat that will take us there. The boat is painted yellow and blue, the traditional colour combination for Maltese boats, and slowly makes its way towards the island. The fallen rocks reach several metres in diameter, and the landscape is almost unreal. We jump on a rock, my boots barely manage to get some grip on the wet surface. We start climbing up the boulders as the boatman leaves wishing us good luck. The boulders are unstable and we need to test every step. Old shrapnel can be easily spotted among the rocks, the legacy of target practice during the cold war.
We reach the base of the plateau, and we set up the mistnets that we will use to catch the storm petrels. The endemic wall lizards, black with spots of turquoise or green, approach us with curiosity – there’s no human presence on Filfla, and they have no reason to fear man. But while Filfla seem like a haven for wildlife, we have a harsh reminder that Malta still isn’t safe when a flock of great white egrets and purple herons flies by, squawking. One of the birds has dangling legs, probably the result of shotgun injuries. It’s hardly the first time any of us have seen injured birds flying over Malta, but we can’t help but be somewhat affected by the sight.
It’s still a couple of hours before sunset, and we decide to explore the sea surrounding the island. The water is crystal clear and wonderfully blue, as is hard to find on mainland Malta . The boulders provide shelter to dozens of fish, moray eels, and sea slugs. The colours seem brighter and more saturated. Time passes quickly in the water, and soon the sun is low on the horizon. We have some food, drink some coffee out of a thermos. The rocks are sharp and rugged and it’s impossible to be comfortable. The lizards start disappearing as the temperature slowly drops, and we start hearing the booming sounds of the fireworks for the never-ending summer Festas.
Several hours pass, and the sky starts to slowly get brighter to the east. Birds stop flying around us, we release the last stormy when it’s still dark, but the boat will not get here before dawn. It’s cold now – I really should have brought a sweater with me – and there’s no way to find shelter on the rocks. The boatman appears on the horizon and we start making our way back to the meeting point. I have cuts everywhere, I smell like fish, and my hands have been peeled raw by the sharp edges of the rocks. I unsteadily get on the boat – my thighs are shaky from trying to keep my balance on the unstable rocks all night. We slowly sail back to Malta , the shearwaters gently flying around us as the sun rises behind the island.
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Words by Nick Piludu, Development Assistant at BirdLife Malta.
Photos by Benjamin Metzger, Tim Micallef and Justin Gatt.
The research detailed above forms part of the Life+ Malta Seabird Project managed by BirdLife Malta. To find out more about the Seabird team and their work, you can check out their website here.
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