Maybe it’s the giant toad that greets me at my doorstep each morning or the lizards that scurry across my window every afternoon. Maybe it’s the baby frog I spotted clinging to my patio wall last night (see above). Or maybe it’s the yellow-breasted bird that whistles as if it were a construction worker who’s just spotted an attractive woman. I’m not exactly sure what brought it on, but I’m having a very Charles Darwin moment. Bermuda is positively brimming with life and you don’t have to go very far to see much of it. Take its waters for example. Visibility is remarkable—certainly one of the reasons the islands of Bermuda are so popular with deep sea divers—but if you’re looking for marine life, all it really takes is a swim in the shallows. In my short time here I’ve seen parrotfish, blue angels, and yellowtail snapper, all without even trying. Colonies of Portuguese man-of-war are a common sight as well, their bluish balloon-like bodies bobbing in the water or washed up on the beach. Not as much as fun as spotting a honeycomb cowfish, but interesting nonetheless. On land it’s a bird-lovers paradise with eastern warblers, egrets, morning doves, and literally hundreds of others. Perhaps the most graceful of them all is the white-tailed tropicbird, with its long white tail guiding it through the air. Spittal Pond Nature Reserve in Smith’s Parish is a great place to search for fowl—at nearly 60 acres the reserve is Bermuda’s largest—but I’m happy just to watch it all from right here. You can’t talk fauna without mentioning the peskier pals that call the island home. We’ve got trails of Bermuda ants trolling the front yard, tiny spiders spinning some of the most intricate webs I’ve ever seen, and snails that simply stay put. Worms will come out after a strong rain but we haven’t seen much of that lately. For now I’ll just look forward to seeing that toad tomorrow morning.
Why do I have to pay to cancel a “non-reservation”?
15 hours ago