A small, dark storm petrel that looks like it has been dipped in soot and left to dry. The grey-backed storm petrel is black above with a pale grey back. This stripe gives the bird its name. The underparts are dark. The face is dark. It is dark almost everywhere, except for that grey line running down the spine. The contrast is subtle. It is enough. The tail is square. The legs dangle in flight. The feet paddle the air like a bird that forgot to retract the landing gear. This is not a design flaw. The feet are sensitive to vibrations on the water's surface. They help locate prey in the dark. The mechanism is precise. It works in low light. The sensitivity is high. Feeding involves small crustaceans and fish. The bird patters across the surface with feet tapping the water. A storm petrel in feeding mode looks like it is walking on water. It is a neat trick. It is entirely practical. The motion is efficient. The energy cost is low. The catch is secured. Flight is fluttery and bat-like. Rapid wingbeats alternate with sudden banks. A grey-backed storm petrel in a stiff breeze is hard to follow. It twists. It turns. It disappears behind a wave. It reappears somewhere else. The movement is erratic. The tracking is difficult. The bird uses the wind. It does not fight it. Breeding takes place on remote islands. The burrow is dug into soft soil on a steep slope or under a rock. A single white egg is laid. Both parents share incubation duties. The chick is fed on regurgitated crustacean oil. It grows. It fledges. It is gone. The cycle is quick. The departure is abrupt. The silence returns. The colonies are nocturnal. The birds return after dark. They call to each other. The sound is a low, purring moan, repeated at intervals. On a dark night on the Antipodes, a storm petrel colony sounds like a crowd of ghosts. The atmosphere is eerie. The noise is pervasive. The presence is felt. In New Zealand, this species breeds on the Antipodes, Aucklands, Campbell, and Chatham Islands. It also breeds around the South Island coast on small offshore islets. It is a bird of the southern edge. The location is remote. The access is limited. The isolation is total. This is one of the least known of New Zealand's seabirds. It is small. It is dark. It lives far from people. It comes to land only at night. It keeps its secrets. The obscurity is chosen. The distance is maintained. The mystery persists. The genus name Garrodia honours Alfred Garrod, a nineteenth-century zoologist. The bird has no opinion on this. The tribute is human. The indifference is avian. The name remains. The call is a soft, twittering sound. It is heard only at night. You will not hear it unless you go to the places where it breeds. Few people do. The effort is significant. The reward is auditory. The experience is rare. It carries on.