Great. It’s good to know my dating options have officially reached the arrested-for-public-nudity-but-employed level of desperate.
After I’ve managed to extract myself from Dot trying to set me up with her extended family members, I drive back to Auckland University, where an afternoon of reading scientificarticles on conservation techniques for species with low genetic diversity awaits.
As I retreat to my small, dusty desk in the post-graduate study space, my phone beeps.
It’s Marcus, replying to my text. He’s sent a photo of a group of actresses dressed as 1920s flapper dresses, posing dramatically around an old-timey car.
A few cute chicks around here, but I definitely prefer your version.
I snap a picture of my desk.
Now back at the uni. There’s nothing cute at all around here.
I don’t believe that. You’re there, aren’t you?
My breathing picks up.
Shit. How do I respond to that?
But before I have a chance, another message pops up from him.
So, I have a question…
My heart starts to pound. Is he going to ask exactly what this is between us?
My fingers tremble as I tap out my reply.
Ask away. I wouldn’t want you to have unanswered questions.
What’s the logic behind kidnapping eggs of endangered species? Besides getting to spend time with cute chicks, I mean.
My shoulders relax.
Hand-rearing chicks is one of the best tools we have for saving endangered birds.
Why? Are you better at raising chicks than their parents?
Well, the survival rate is better at the beginning anyway. Fairy terns nest on the beach, and their nests are often destroyed by people, dogs, horses, cats, rats, or stoats. Basically, everything except possibly sharks, and that’s only because sharks haven’t evolved legs yet.
But isn’t it hard to reintroduce chicks raised in captivity back into the wild?
Yeah, that’s been one of the problems we’re trying to figure out. But the major benefit is if you remove eggs from the nest early in the season, the parents will lay again and raise the next clutch of chicks, so theoretically, you can get double the number of chicks as you would have otherwise.
I wasn’t very good at math at school, but even I understand why that equation works out in your favor.
When there are only eleven breeding pairs left in the whole world, every chick counts.
When Marcus doesn’t immediately reply, I find myself anxiously re-reading our message chain.
Shit. It’s always hard to know when I overstep the mark between informing and boring someone. My enthusiasm-to-social awareness ratio needs some serious calibration.
I was recently at a party, and I thought I was having an interesting conversation with a guy about the mating rituals of various seabirds.
But when I’d gone to the restroom, I’d come back to overhear him warning someone.“Stay away from the bird guy unless you want a lecture on the sex life of penguins.”
It’s that concern that has me sending the next message to Marcus.
Sorry. I hope I’m not boring you.