Chapter 12 - By Martin Thomas

Page 5

 young, attractive and beautifully mannered. We made a mental note to look for employees like them, and even wondered if some of them might be ‘poachable’.

Checking in at Managua’s domestic terminal, we paid an enormous amount for excess baggage. We had disguised the birds in woven baskets so they would not be thought out of the ordinary, and somehow got away with saving them going through the X-ray machine by explaining they were ‘live birds’ and had to be taken on as hand luggage. We took an early morning flight to Bluefields, as we planned to go on immediately to the island, given that we had four baby toucans, two parakeets, and everything except the kitchen sink with us. We would collect that on the next trip.

From Bluefields airport we headed straight to the dock for the trip to the cays. We had been to the supermarket in Managua and had a number of supplies, including such delicacies as smoked salmon, maple syrup and zucchini, which were quite impossible to find in Bluefields. We also had fresh yoghurt, another item that was unobtainable in Bluefields, and were hoping to start a culture with it. Juan was waiting for us at the dock, and although I thought I detected a faint smell of rum on him I elected to give him the benefit of the doubt, and said nothing. He seemed delighted to see us, and we were soon on our way, all our belongings safely stowed on the boat. It was an uneventful trip, but we could not avoid a slight feeling of apprehension about what would be waiting for us on the island. This time, however, there was no welcoming committee. It seemed we had at last succeeded in ridding our island of sandflies - we could hardly believe it.

While Jenifer and I unpacked and reorganised the cabin the children went off to try out their newly acquired, and as yet untested, snorkelling equipment. I prepared a welcome home dinner - smoked salmon over a white bean purée with capers and fresh lime - and we opened a bottle of Chilean Chardonnay. Lily helped to set a beautiful table, and we lit candles. We didn’t even have to put the fan on, as there was no evidence of sandflies at all. It was a very special dinner. That night the moon was almost full, the temperature sultry. We were all keen to take the mosquito nets off our beds, but we thought we would wait one more night, as we still could not quite believe the sandflies had gone for good.

Our baby toucans had endured their trip well, and were eager to be fed - and fed and fed and fed. They were insatiable. We installed them in a large cage, planning to set them free after a short period of acclimatisation. They were not officially native to the island, but they could be found in the wild on the mainland nearby, so we thought it would not be too difficult for them to eventually flourish on the island. We expected them to remain fairly tame, as they were still very young, and clearly thought of us as their parents. However, one of the little parakeets was not doing so well. He had seemed worse for wear after the journey to the island, and sadly he lasted barely a week, leaving us with just one little chap. ‘Mr Collins’ had a lovely personality, and would circle around, happily perching on the children’s shoulders or hands as they made their forays around the island. Most of the birds had their flight feathers cut when we got them, which greatly limited their mobility, but in time these would grow and they would enjoy the miracle of flight once again.

The next day there were still no sandflies to be seen, so we boldly decided to remove the mosquito nets from our beds and risk a night’s sleep in the open air. That night we slept the sleep of kings, net-free, with all the windows open to the cool night air. A full moon shone, and there was just the gentlest of breezes. We lay on our fine Egyptian cotton sheets, our heads resting on feather pillows, and gazed at the palm trees rustling in the moonlight. At last. The sense of serenity and contentment was overwhelming, and it was blissful to be enjoying the island in the way we had imagined. It was easy to see that the children were happier here than they had ever been. This was the ultimate adventure for them, and they didn’t want to waste a moment of it. They were princes and princesses in a kingdom all their own. Lily and Max would fashion elaborate crowns from plants and shells, and any animal within reach would be included in the scene. Anything was possible, and the beach and jungle-like interior of the island provided all the materials they required.

They saw the mangrove forest as a huge ‘jungle-gym’, where crabs and tiny fish could be seen from their ‘viewing platforms’. Seaweed made fantastic head-dresses and royal sashes. Shells would be fashioned into jewellery, fallen palm fronds into teepees, or cocoons for the metamorphosing caterpillars they had each decided to become that day. For them, heaven had a name, and it was ‘ the beach island’.

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