Sailing and seabirds (Malkolm)

“Look!” exclaimed Tim Amaral, our seabird expert (Redtail Adventures). “White belly and underwing, ‘M’ pattern on back...”
I raised my binoculars. Six light shearwaters stood out from amongst the hundreds of brown and silver Sooty Shearwaters that flew alongside our boat. One of the light shearwaters tilted its wings, flashing its boldly patterned gray and brown back. “Buller’s Shearwater!”
We were on a small sailboat, somewhere off Monterey. We’d chartered the craft for a day of pelagic birding. Our captain, Eric, tightened some ropes, let another loose and with a flick of the tiller laid us on a new tack. The boat leaned over at an alarming angle, I grabbed the railing to stop from sliding down the deck. The boat pitched frighteningly as it lurched into the trough of a wave. I fought to keep sickness at bay. “Pelagic sailing isn’t for the faint of heart,” said Tim.
Eric steered us into the heart of a flock of Sooty Shearwaters resting on the water. The birds directly in our patch fluttered away, but most remained seated, giving us spectacular views. “This is a definite advantage over a power boat,” commented Tim. “Whenever we motor into a resting flock, all the shearwaters scatter.”
Ken reached into a garbage bag full of burnt popcorn and tossed a handful overboard. A couple passing Heermann’s Gull wheeled around and swooped at the food. We soon had a trail of gulls following the boat. By having a flock of gulls behind us we hoped to attract albatrosses or skuas that wanted to check out what the frenzy was all about. But we were distracted by lunch and chumming was forgotten. We lost the trail of gulls. We reached the edge of an underwater canyon, where rising currents brought nutrients to the surface. Ken threw some popcorn at a passing gull. It turned excitedly, then flew on, as if it had caught a whiff of the burnt food. “Snob,” muttered Ken, “Why wouldn’t a gull gorged on sardines and crustations want to eat gross popcorn?”
New species continued to trickle in, hundreds of Pink-footed Shearwaters, a South Polar Skua that barrelled past, and then, our day’s highlight... “Over there!” called Ken. I looked away from a small flock of phalaropes and saw a tiny, dark bird. “Ashy Storm-Petrel!” called Tim. The bird flew in a direct line, with shallow, rapid wingbeats. It circled and followed the boat for a minute before disappearing. While I desired a better view, I did see enough of the flight pattern to determine that it was an Ashy Storm-Petrel. “That’s the find of the day,” exclaimed Tim. “That’s our ‘needle in the haystack’ bird!”