Every night they stir at about 2 a.m. All it takes is one crow to set off a cacophony across the neighborhood. By 3 a.m., there are at least a dozen calling to one another, their crows overlapping in an insane fugue. One evening a couple of young drunks started everything off by imitating the roosters, who chimed right in.
The roosters, hens and chickens on San Cristobal are largely backyard birds raised for meat or eggs, and in many places they roam freely in the streets. On my morning walk to the university, they dart about, often a mother hen with her chicks in tow. Chickens are the only animal allowed to enter the Galapagos alive, and they are subject to stringent health regulations. The main concern is the transmission of avian diseases to the islands’ native populations.
I’m more concerned about noise pollution. After several days, I whined about my sleepless nights to my host Jacqui. “What roosters?” she responded with a quizzical look at her husband. If I lived here for a few years maybe I wouldn’t hear them either.
