Sea snakes, turtles and Napoleon fish in Nouméa

One of the best things about living in the South Pacific is the marine life. The marine life, the plants, the flowers and the colours that are found nowhere else in the world.

Another wonderful part of living in New Caledonia in particular is the amount of stuff you can get done before noon. I mentioned in a previous post that life starts early here, and early it does. For example, I was working at 7am this morning. By 10am, Pablo and I were at the local aquarium. By 12 noon, lunch was consumed and the day had only just begun!

With today’s second visit to Nouméa’s Aquarium des Lagons in 2 months, we were even more enchanted.

This time we purchased one of the aquarium activity booklets for 3-6 year olds for just over 1€ and away we went. We spent nearly 2 hours in what we consider to be a fairly small aquarium (compared to those found in Paris, Brest and Monterey), observing the fish and crabs and nautiluses very, very closely, drawing them, studying them and discovering extraordinary facts about them. We happen to love aquariums, but this visit outdid many of our other aquarium visits, by a long shot.

We solved the mangrove crab mystery we’d been pondering; spied an enormous, sleeping leopard shark, hidden from all of the other visitors; oooed and ahhhhed, stumbling in the dark, upon fluorescent coral and flashlight fish; and photographed and drew again and again the Napoleon fish, the Picasso fish and the marine angel fish (among goodness knows how many others!).

But our favourite part? The turtle (who seemed to want to escape the tank and follow us home) and the sea snakes! The aquarium had just released 45 turtles into the sea earlier that week (who will be tracked thanks to tracking technology), and this last one seemed to be at odds. We’d never seen a turtle so clearly and up close. It swam unceasingly along the side of the tank, watching our every move. We watched its eyes open and close as it came up to the surface, we observed its beak-like mouth and the way it swam and dove through the water.

We were also fascinated by the sea snakes (tricot rayés), which though extremely lethal, are very beautiful. We watched them on land and in water (they live on both and can swim underwater for 1 hour with just 1 breath), twisting and turning, swimming with grace, at times with the turtle, at times on their own. Their heads are indeed tiny (which makes them hard to bite you and thus kill you; this being said, their mouths are quite wide) and they are very easily spotted. Quite common here, the locals leave them alone, which is best (there is no antidote for their venom). Pablo spotted one in the sea here within weeks of arriving and was so thrilled to see one in the wild. I’ve promised to take him to Phare Amédée, where he will see many, many more.

If you are at all interested in marine life found only here in New Caledonia, we recommend a visit to this aquarium. We’ll most likely be back again and again, for life is so very interesting here!

A mangrove forest in the inner city

When people hear of Nouméa, the descriptor that generally follows is “the Paris of the South Pacific”. As in Nouméa being French, somewhat chic (having spent 20 years in Paris, I question chic as a description of Nouméa, but there you go) and located in the South Pacific. No one tells you that in addition to breathtaking bay views, palm trees, incredible weather, boutiques and restaurants, you’ll see a plethora of endemic flora and fauna, will witness traditions and customs that belong to an intriguing Melanesian culture or see banyan trees, fish poison trees and a mangrove forest within the city itself.

Last weekend we decided to follow up on a suggestion from a friend to visit the mangroves in Ouemo, one of the neighbourhoods in Nouméa. I had heard that we could see crabs, birds and the aerial roots of this particular species of mangroves. So off to Ouemo we went, expectations high. 15 minutes in the car later, we landed at a path across from a school that led down to the mangroves. 15 minutes. This is an experience you cannot get in Paris, I assure you.

Free and open to the public nearly every day of the year, the path leads down to the mangroves, which is a is a formation of several species of mangrove with an intricate intertwined root system and other trees adapted to the environment, all growing in a bed of mud. They serve as incredibly complex ecosystems, home to birds, crustaceans and fish and protect the land from marine erosion. I’d seen mangroves from a boat on a 2006 visit to Northern New Caledonia and on the Loyalty Islands, but to walk among them was another experience altogether. We tried to imagine what it would be like to be trapped in them at night – shudder!

Visitors explore the mangrove forest on a raised platform, you’ll be pleased to note. Perfect for a Sunday stroll alone or with family and friends, I was struck by the sounds of the birds (which I recorded – now I only have to find a way to add the audio to your reading!), the expanse of the forest and the rich collection of life living there. And the peace.

Our son, though, was on the look out for the crabs I’d told him about. I’d read you could find mud crabs in mangrove forests and a friend had told me she’d seen all kinds of crabs with her daughter just a week before.

We looked and looked and looked. We retraced our steps and tried different parts of the walk.

No luck.

We wondered if we were there too early or too late in the day. We wondered if the noise of six feet tip tapping on the wood was scaring them away. We wondered if they’d eaten enough for the day and no longer needed to come out of their holes (and holes there were, a plenty).

We eventually came to a bridge in the forest, and while sitting on a bench, we looked down, having given up. There, in the shadows we caught sight of an iridescent something or other. That moved. Horror!  We looked closer and began to notice 2 crabs here, 3 crabs there. Only these were dark with red underbellies or red eyes or red claws – we couldn’t tell which part was red. But thanks to the red underbits, we started spotting dozens of them. Sure enough, they quickly scurried away when they heard the slightest noise or felt a vibration.

To this day, we don’t know if they were mud crabs or mangrove crabs or some other kind of crab. Apparently only hermit crabs and mangrove crabs can climb trees as a defense mechanism – which makes me think these little critters (also root climbers) were mangrove crabs. But I need the advice of a true expert! Anyone?