By Rachael Adams

Excerpt from Issue 371 – May 2025

SPONGE HUNTING IN MENORCA

I was standing in the shade at Cala Blanca dive centre one day last August when a girl ambled in to ask if we could take her diving on a coral reef. I explained that we didn’t have many big reef-building corals in the Med, but that we did have little cup corals that were very beautiful. She wrinkled here nose, “What about the sharks?” We overfished them all. “Turtles?” I found a dead one once. “Humph!” She rolled her eyes and turned tail.
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By Rachael Adams Menorca is covered in bushes and trees. Vast swathes of our island are populated by wild olive, mock privet, and mastic trees (Pistacia lentiscus). Within these woodlands there are a lot of clearings for warming oneself in the sun which make the perfect home for a tortoise. The Mediterranean tortoise, or the subspecies Testudo hermanni hermanni to be precise, is rampant here. We have the highest population in the Mediterranean. They’re also found under holm oak and juniper trees and even amongst sand dunes.

Tortoises have a great sense of smell and sight, and are sensitive to vibrations. They have a marvellous sense of direction too: no matter how many times, or how far away our neighbours carry them from their besieged vegetable garden, they make their way straight back. The dedicated couple are now barricading in the veg by sinking nets into the ground so that the homing reptiles can’t dig their way back in. Despite their camouflage, tortoises are very easy to spot; while most animals don’t like to be found by humans, it seems that these ones couldn’t care less. They crash about in the undergrowth, fight and even mate in close proximity to people out exploring. A rustling noise that doesn’t stop, even when walkers make their presence obvious, is a dead give-away that a tortoise is nearby. They dig holes with their big claws and lay eggs in them. In winter they fast for a few weeks to empty their guts then dig themselves in to hibernate, though they might wake up again during warmer periods. They’re also delightfully odd-looking, and though they can power away quickly enough if needed, they’re easy to catch (or run over, strim, set fire to, or feed to the dog). Thus, unfortunately, there are many that end up being killed, injured, or taken back home as pets. Populations in Europe are declining quickly for all of the above reasons as well as human activity causing habitat fragmentation. Therefore, the species as a whole is strictly protected under law. They’re listed as endangered on the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species, and it is banned to own one in the Balearics. Because we have so many here, Menorca is a great place to study tortoises. Biologist, Albert Bertolero has been the researcher in charge of the monitoring programme since 2015. He comes over twice a year for a couple of weeks’ poking about in the scrub. When he catches one, he weighs and measures it, records its approximate age and sex and the exact position it was found. Then he whips out a hacksaw (or a small file if it’s a baby) and carves grooves into the edges of specific plates, (or scutes) on the shell to give it a number. Males have larger tails and concave plastrons, the part of the shell that is on the underside. The scutes above their tails sort of curl under whilst those on the female stick out more. This is to meet reproductive technicalities. Together with other scientists, Albert has found out some very interesting things over the years: Eating Habits They eat all sorts. Their favourite food in Menorca happens to be clematis, followed by dandelions, clover, poisonous Italian arum and buttercups, lords and ladies, and items from the pea and aster families. They don’t really like anything resinous from the juniper or pine trees, nor do they go for aromatic herbs like lavender and rosemary. More rarely, they’ll also eat meat and have been found gorging on dead chicks fallen from nests, bones, mussels, and even poo. Ageing It’s very hard to accurately age a tortoise, though the internet reckons Testudo hermanii hermanii can get to around 75 years old. Scientists can get a rough estimate of how old they are by observing the concentric rings (which are actually expanding squares) on each scute. But a new ring isn’t necessarily formed every year throughout the tortoise’s life, and growth slows down considerable when they’re hibernating. Thus, they use  an approximate guide to class tortoises into ‘un-sexed babies’ if under 10cm long; ‘sub-adults’ if the growth rings are all thick and well-defined; ‘young adults’ if the rings are a mix of fat and thin ones; and ‘old’ if the rings are fading and worn. Also, tortoises can only be sexed once their secondary sexual characters have developed, i.e. the concave plastron, wonky bottom and a bigger tail in males. Genetics Our population is actually made up of two different genetic lineages; the ones that are larger on average are found in the southeast of Menorca. This genetic group is not related to any known populations outside Menorca. Those living in the northwest have a smaller average body size and their genetic line can be traced back to the Albera mountain range in the eastern Pyrenees, between Spain and France. The two populations don’t mix, and some believe that the main road across the island keeps them apart. It is thought that tortoises were introduced to the island around 3000 years ago. Toes And last of all, some of our tortoises have five toes and claws on the front foot and some only have four. These differences have been shown to be genetically determined by taking blood for tests from the coccygeal vein near the base of the tail. Researchers estimate the population size by monitoring our tortoises year on year. They can observe how many there are each year, if the male to female ratio is stable, and predict movement patterns. Yet with such a long-lived species it will take many years to truly understand their dynamics. Injured Tortoises Going back to dog attacks and wayward strimmers, injured tortoises get sent to the Wildlife Recovery Centre at Lithica near Ciutadella. Every new individual that comes in gets a health check and a mugshot taken, is weighed, sexed, and then kept in quarantine for a few weeks to avoid it passing on any possible diseases to the others. If it’s healthy after that time it’ll be released back where it was found. This is important as the carers don’t want to contribute to any genetic mixing that wouldn’t have naturally occurred. If the animal is injured with a damaged shell it goes to the vet. There it gets sedated with a general anaesthetic (how cute) and then gets a plaster cast stuck on its back. Drainage holes are left at the base of the shell and then it’s back to the recovery centre to convalesce. Reptiles take a lot longer than humans to heal due to their cold blood and hibernation. In fact, sometimes the staff keep ill tortoises under heat lamps to prevent them from hibernating so that the healing process isn’t interrupted. Despite this, they’ve kept patients at the centre from months to even years. Still, the hope is that one day they too can be released into the wild. Now and then there’ll be something in the media reminding the public that it’s illegal to keep tortoises in captivity – which results in a sudden influx of new tortoises to the centre. I remember many people had them in their flower beds, even on patios in town. One year they received around 2000 individuals. Unfortunately, and despite their trade being illegal, there’s also a black market for Mediterranean tortoises as pets. A recent report found some Menorcan ones at a street market in Madrid. Thus, another reason the recovery centre ends up with thousands of new ones a year is because they take in captive tortoises the authorities have impounded. These poor guys have to just sit there and be evidence until the culprit is brought to trial. To summarise, the centre, co-managed by both GOB and COFIB, is generally swamped with inmates of all shapes and size and in varying states of disrepair – making it a great place to learn about them and also contribute a much-appreciated donation to their upkeep. Ref: Seguiment de la Tortuga mediterrania a Menorca en 2016, Albert Bertolero www.menorcabiosphera.org Rachael Adams is a freelance environmental journalist. You can read more of her articles on her blog https://rachaeladamsblog.live/  

By Rachael Adams For most of us being in water feels great. I grew up jumping off cliffs at Cala’n Brut, near Ciutadella. Humans are adapted to spending time in water: our lungs, hearts and sensors around our mouths are all prepared. We can hold our breaths and havewebbed palms. The Aquatic Ape Theory suggests our ancestors climbed down from trees and got straight into the sea to forage. Instead of running across the Serengeti to hunt. This could explain our sense of deep calm and belonging in water.

Humans are most different to the rest of primates. Unlike scrawny ape infants, our babies are too fat to have hung around their naked mother’s necks while she dangled from a tree. Plus, furless, they wouldn’t have had much to hold onto. Rather, blubber-coated human babies are buoyant and insulated for life in water. When born they float like dolphin calves. Top tip: a separate study showed that water-born babies were more optimistic at the age of 10 than those who had a traditional land-based birth.

Alistair thought the hair we did retain on our heads could be an anchor for floating infants to grab onto while their mother collected sea cucumbers, clasping them between her big toe. Always the more fortunate of the sexes, pregnant women actually grow more and thicker hair, whilst men are more likely to go bald.

Even as adults, subcutaneous fat rounds off our bodies – streamlining us for swimming. Handy excuse! Our long noses prevent water from getting up our nostrils when diving. The theory likens our dextrous hands to those of raccoons that also forage by streams. The list of human oddities when compared to the rest of primates is endless: gruesomely, humans don’t eat placentas – because they would have sunk away from predators anyway. We cry, like distressed mother seals when separated from their young. And we are the only ones to have webbing between our thumb and forefinger.

They say that if you throw a baby in a pool before the age of six months it will know how to swim. My baby cousin Adam fell in the water and he instinctively knew to shut his mouth. His big blue eyes smiled back at me as he lay on his on his back under water, mouth tight shut and looking quite at home. I fished him out and he didn’t even cry. Homo aquaticus indeed.

People have sent the sick to the coast to cure illness for centuries, whether it be consumption, eczema or asthma. Human blood and seawater are made of the same stuff: our plasma contains a high concentration of salts, chlorine and trace elements vital for our health. It’s said we imbibe these from seawater through our skin while swimming, redressing our biochemical balance. To prove the similarities, a French scientist conducted an experiment in the early 1900s to replace his dog’s blood with seawater – and it lived. https://oceanrescuespa.com/ pages/body-ocean-relationship.

So maybe all this explains why we need the sea, to be able to hear and smell it. Why we feel unwell when away from it, and seek it out to heal us in times of need? Fortunately for most Menorcans, the glittery clear sea is but a short walk from our homes. We try to do a “calada”- or a quick splash during our lunch breaks – as often as possible. Even when the tourist masses push us out of our beaches, we meet on the rocks in the evening for a beer and a plunge. Heaven…

Rachael Adams is a freelance environmental journalist. Read more of her articles at https://rachaeladamsblog.live/

By James & Caroline Warne

We have been exploring this incredible island by foot for over 25 years. More recently, we’ve been discovering the island’s extensive cycle paths and lanes we didn’t even know existed on electric bikes. We’ve started putting together a selection of our favourite walks and cycle rides to share.

For walkers, the island’s famous 185km circular coastal path, the Cami de Cavalls, is well documented. Our walks are ones less well known, each offering a variety of views and interesting things to discover which, for us, make Menorca the incredible gem that it is. Our mottos; not too strenuous, circular (so you don’t have to get taxis or buses) and there has to be at least one bar for “essential” refreshment halfway around or at the end!

WALK 1 – SANT TOMAS to ES MIGJORN GRAN

Approx 5.5 miles – 3 Hours – mostly gentle with one short rocky/steep bit.

Highlights – Takes in a walk along one of Menorca’s most iconic beaches with the bluest of water, the magnificent cathedral-like cave of Cova des Coloms, walled lanes and a village stop-off halfway. An area of woodland with a magnificent avenue of holm oak trees, culminating in a sundowner at the beach restaurant with one of the island’s best views of the sea.

Park at the Beach car park next to the Chiringuito Es Bruc beach restaurant.

Turn right and head along the new boardwalk of the Cami de Cavalls, past the little boat house and along the elevated path above the Binigaus beach enjoying the amazing views across the blue water bay to the wooded headland.

At the end of the beach, bear right onto the pretty walled path which is still the Cami de Cavalls.

After approximately 200 metres walking inland, the path forks left BUT on the right is a gate and large red sign “Cova des Coloms” Take this path.

After 500m, passing through a stone gap, the path forks again – Turn RIGHT through the gap in the wall (next to a lone rectangular stone on the path) and follow the well-trodden flat path approximately half a mile or so all the way up the floor of the Binigaus ravine. Passing the turning for a smaller cave, stay left at several forks until eventually there is a sign pointing right to the cave.

Cross the valley floor and up the other side following the zig-zag path up to the narrow entrance to the cave.

Prepare to be amazed – the cave is vast, known locally as La Catedral. Several million years old, 330ft deep and 90ft high, bats live in the roof and one can’t help but imagine what stories the walls could tell, the cave having been a burial site and a site of magical and religious significance.

Leave the cave, re-join the path turning right and ascend the stoney section up to the (thankfully level) track and lane (Cami de Binigaus) to Es Migjorn.

This lovely traffic-free lane arrives at the immaculate Cemetery on the outskirts of the village. You can explore the Poblat Talaiot adjacent or take a pit stop in the village but our walk continues from the end of the little cemetery carpark.

This lane culminates at the road from Es Migjorn to Sant Tomas which we cross, turn right and walk along for 300m before turning left onto a lane signposted “Depodura” passing the Santa Monica estate and the small treatment works.

As the lane descends, turn right off the lane. At the end of the lane we enter the wood by climbing the stones over the wall to the right and enjoy an enchanting walk along the Cami de Sant Tomas through a tunnel of holm oak trees – giving way to pine trees.

At the end go through the gate at the farm, turning right and exiting into the urbanisation of Sant Tomas. Staying right, descend and cross the road to the beach turning right and heading to the restaurant for a well-earned sundowner!

Download PDF of this article from the July 2023 edition of Roqueta »

BY RACHAEL ADAMS

Snorkelling at night is the best thing in the world. Switching on the torch underwater is to poke your face into a world of secrets, all hidden under a magic blanket.

It’s 9.15pm as we enter the water. I make sure to bundle up, as I know that nearing 11pm I’ll be ecstatic but freezing. I wear an 8mm wetsuit all through the summer though most people get away with a 5mm, and hood and gloves. The frogman get-up is just as much for the cold as to protect my skin from brushing on a hydroid, anemone or urchin.

Our first find, in about three meters of water and under five minutes from the start, is an octopus out hunting for fish and small invertebrates. They hunt by ambushing their prey, changing their skin colour and texture a million times a minute to match their surroundings. This one is a common octopus (Octopus vulgaris) but we also get white-spotted ones, with extra-long legs (Callistoctopus macro-pus).

Moray eels hunt octopuses, and we once found a couple tangled up in a furious knot of wrath mid-water. I couldn’t figure out what it was nor believe my eyes when suddenly, amidst a puff of ink, the knot became two different animals shooting off in opposite directions. Consequently, it’s not rare to see octopuses missing their full complement of legs.

Snorkellers have a much wider angle of view from the surface, so they often spot things that divers don’t (or things that are fleeing from divers). And more importantly, they disturb the wildlife less from afar so creatures can go about their nightly business as usual. We make sure not to shine our torch directly onto the octopus, but rather, to the back of or near the animal.

As we swim along the reef, huge shoals of silversides stretch the length of the bay, like walls of ster-ling fish slivers reflecting in our torchlight. Soon we spot scorpion fish (Scorpaena spp.) on the sand. Camouflaged on rocks by day, by night they move out into the sand, and lie in wait. As with the octopus, an ambush is the strategy of choice. Voracious hunters, it’s not long before they strike: after a night’s worth of rapid forward hops there’s quite a few fish less in the sea. The one in the picture is stealing my torchlight to attract its prey.

A couple of fin flips ahead, a female electric torpedo ray (no claspers in sight) has come out of the sand and is pondering her next move. She has two large lobes on the side of her head which act like battery terminals. Once she chooses her victim, the ray wraps itself around it and stuns it with over 200 volts. Though, somewhat reassuringly perhaps, the amps are too low to kill humans outright.

As we near the exit of the bay, shoals of squid (Loligo vulgaris) appear in the distance. Their red colour and glowy-turquoise bioluminescence give them away. So too do their flitty movements as they shoot jets of water from their siphons. Squid are nocturnal, spending the daytime out in deeper waters and coming into bays at night to hunt. They catch shrimp and small fish. Fishermen use lights to catch them and take a better haul on the new moon: the darker the better.

 Squid lay their eggs in long dangling tendrils under rocks, and the young are better known to us battered on a plate as chipirones. On one occasion we found a solitary bobtail squid (Sepiola spp). These little guys hide in the sand during the day.

As we turn back towards the beach, we find a spotted sea hare (Aplysia dactylomela). What we call their “ears” are actually “rhinophores” used for sniffing rather than hearing. The bottom two curled “oral tentacles” are also for smelling and feeling. These huge sea slugs are algae grazers, so they’re often found quite close to the surface. In fact, they’re so good at guzzling weeds that you can rent one (in America) to clean your fish tank if you (really) need to! Though boring in term of colour compared to many of their cousins, these fatties are still poisonous so don’t poke them or they’ll ooze an irritant pink purply plume of death at you. During the daytime, they pretend they’re innocuous and sleep under rocks.

Just before the exit, in the shallows, we discover the relatively small sand eels (Ariosoma baleari-cum), or more scarily, “band tooth congers”. They hang motionless, camouflaged against the sand with their white, scaleless bodies, hoping I haven’t seen them. Shy little things at around 40cm long, if I do get too close, they shoot backwards into the sand leaving just the head poking out the top!

A word of warning for snorkellers that get so carried away they stay out all night until the sun comes up. Never stray from the edges and always, always take something big and yellow to wave at an on-coming boat. Scream if you must. I clip water bottles and cameras to my buoy. The chance to take a smoothie break on the surface by standing on a submerged rock pinnacle is a big advantage over diving. Though to see the squid eggs up close for any length of time you would have to book a dive as they are in 14m of water. Under an undisclosed mystic rock.

Barcelona University has a good website for species id (https://www.cibsub.cat/guia.php) and Dive Centre Cala Blanca offer guided snorkel tours.

Dive Centre Cala Blanca, Avinguda de Cala Blanca, 07769 Cala Blanca, Ciutadella de Menorca
(+34) 642 682 704 divecentercalablanca.com

Rachael Adams is a freelance environmental journalist. Read more articles on her blog https://rachaeladamsblog.live/