Day 20 Bird Island

Bird Island - a haven for antarctic and sub-antarctic wildlife.

Bird Island just off South Georgia

Sunday, 15th April 2012. At four minutes past 6 o'clock - and for the first time for nearly three weeks - the ship's starboard anchor was let go half a mile off Jordan Cove at Bird Island. The science crew assembled in the cargo hold, where we otherwise meet for circuit training, to load up palettes of supplies for the research station on the island. The crates of fresh vegetables, frozen meat, beer, parcels, letters etc. would be eagerly awaited by the station staff and our visit would be the last call until the arrival of the southern spring in October.

The JCR off Bird Island

Bird Island is an Antarctic Island located south of the Antarctic Convergence(*) at about 54°S, 38°W in the deep south of the Atlantic Ocean. A 500m wide strait separates it from the island of South Georgia - the "mainland", out of the perspective of the base inhabitants, from where the island is administered by the Government of South Georgia and the South Sandwich Islands. The island was first sighted by Captain Cook in 1775, who named it Bird Island "on account of the vast numbers [of birds] that were upon it". Although visited by sealers and whalers in the late 19th century it wasn't until 1957 that scientists first came to the island to study the bird and seal population. A base was established and occupied intermittently by summer parties until 1982, after which a permanent presence was established. The base has been manned continuously from 22 Sep 1982 to the present day. During the (southern) winter from April to October a party of 4 personell remains on the island while up to 10 researchers, research assistants and technicians inhabit the base during the summer. The base is operated by the British Antarctic Survey whose scientists conduct a wide range of biological research on seabirds and seals as well as maintaining a long term monitoring programme to study the ecosystem dynamics of the southern ocean.

The cargo tender of the JCR

Our supply run to the island was carried out using the ship's cargo tender, which is stowed on the fore deck when not in use. The tender is a small landing craft with an open deck cargo hold the size of a shipping container. It was lifted off the deck by the ship's onboard cranes and put into the water. A rigid inflatable Humber was also in the water for safety reasons - the Humber is more maneuverable to fish anything (or anyone) out of the water that falls over the side during boarding. I was in the first wave of scientists to go ashore. This would be the first time in 3 weeks that I got off the ship and I finally stood on solid ground again on the newly constructed jetty. Two scaffolders has been especially dispatched to the island for this job and they had only finished building it two days ago. They had done a great job and nothing moved or creaked as the cargo tender moored up. More surprisingly the ground didn't keep on moving once I was back on terra firma. It was a great feeling to be on land again, and thankfully I didn't get any land legs. Which was nice.

The research station at Bird Island

The research station is located on Freshwater Beach at the end of Jordan Cove. A metal walkway leads from the jetty up to the buildings - a generator shed, a storage and workshop building and the main building with living quarters, laboratories and offices. The base commander received us with a broad smile - I suppose one needs a perpetually cheerful attitude in such a remote place. Or was it because we had brought lots of goodies? He apologised that the island was currently "bereft of wild life" (his exact words!). Well, that was his assessment, but I had already had several wildlife heart attacks by that point. All the way into Jordan Cove the cargo tender had passed rock after rock littered with seals. Seals were in the water to greet us on the jetty. There were seals everywhere amongst the tussock grass around the station. There were seals all over the beach. It must have been hundreds! Not only seals - there were Gentoo penguins waddling around on the beach. The air above us was swarming with giant petrels and albatrosses. Not exactly bereft in my books.

 

Fred at the jetty of Bird Island research station

Only later, until I had seen the photographs inside the station, did I realise what it means when the island is actually teeming with wildlife. During the seal breeding season (around Christmas time) there aren't just hundreds of seals on the beach - there are thousands, literally thousands. The local species is the Antarctic Fur Seal, which had been driven to the brink of extinction by hunters who shot millions of them for their fur and blubber. When the seals were finally granted protection the global population had crashed to just 5,000 animals - nowadays that's how many come to Bird Island alone as the species is currently stable and the population is growing. Their numbers bounced back as soon as the slaughter stopped, but even despite protection they haven't recovered to pre-hunting levels the population as seals face continuing pressures from pollution and resource competition.

Giant petrels

The unloading of the boxes didn't take too long. But there was the small issue of biosecurity first. Every cabbage, papper or broccoli was carefully inspected for any bugs, insects and otherwise unwanted wildlife. The accidental transfer of alien species can wreak havoc on the ecosystem of remote island where life has evolved in the absence of such threats. The South Gorgia government has strict measures in place to ensure that Bird Island would not be colonised by alien invaders and their priority is on the island staying rat free - an invasion of land predators would quickly kill of the ground nesting bird population. While the cargo tender was checked for hitchikers, every visitor also had to scrub their boots with disinfectant check their clothing clothing. And just as we had to hoover out our pockets and pick bits off any velcro strips the vegetables had to be thoroughly checked too. Several weeks ago two earwigs had achieved fame in the local newspaper after they'd been discovered in a delivery of vegetables to South Georgia from the Falkland Islands. At Kind Edward Point a special facility had been constructed to oversee the biosecurity inspection of any imports to the islands. At Bird Island this was done in the kitchen. While not every cauliflower looked too healthy and many a pepper was bruised and marginal for human consumption none of them had any alien visitors hidden within.

Young fur seals

While the vegetables were being checked, the bulk of the cargo operation was the removal of the old scaffolding which was waiting to be taken off the island. It wasn't only the jetty replacement that left tons of rusting metal to be disposed off, but a new seal observation platform had also been constructed. The raised walkway on the next beach was high enough that seals couldn't get on it, so it could be used to monitor the animals from a safe distance. Fur seals are feisty creatures, and they can move quickly. Unlike true seals they can turn their hind flippers forward and gallop in a way similar to a dog with broken legs - just faster, Much faster. Apparently, a fur seal can outrun a human on dry land, and I wasn't in the mood to find out. On the beach I mainly encountered the juveniles which readily approach humans first, but then groan and howl at anyone getting too close. The young ones, however, usually stop just in front of you and keep on barking. I am told that adult bulls won't display any such lack of courage. They will happily charge a two-legged intruder and occasionally even take a bite or two. I heard reports of people being bitten in the hand and someone had a chunk of flesh taken out of his calf after getting a bit too close.

Antarctic fur seal

True to its name, the island was teeming with bird life. A rock shag followed us from the sea to the island when we first arrived. Once there I saw giant petrels sitting on the beach and brown skuas could be seen around the living quarters possibly looking for food scraps. Albatrosses were patrolling the skies everywhere around the island. I had read that they breed on Bird Island. The steep slopes of the hills surrounding the station are covered in green clumps of tussack grass and amongst them I could pick out pairs of white dots. These dots were wandering albatrosses and their chicks. These magnificant birds breed on the ground high up on the grassy slopes. Unfortunately there wasn't time for us to walk up to the nests. One of our scientists from the second wave of visitors did manage to walk up to the albatrosses though. Presently the adults were rearing their chicks, who sported a white fluffy outfit and were already of considerable size. The huge birds nest on the ground, which is what makes them so vulnerable to land predators like rats or cats. But on Bird Island there are no such threats other than occasional human visitors who count or ring them, or simply take photographs. From my colleagues photos I could finally gauge the size of a wandering albatross. Standing upright an adult wandering albatross would reach up to my waist(!). With their beaks stretched upwards they could reach even higher and peck my chest if they wanted to (and I'm 6'1" tall!). I would struggle to reach around their body with both arms and link hands. And this doesn't even consider their wing span which is up to 3.5m. They are truly formidable in size. It is such a shame that I didn't have the opportunity to walk up to the colony myself. So I will have to leave a direct comparison with my own height to a later date.

Giant petrels

One of the people who'd definitely have the chance to see the albatrosses over and over again is the resident zoological assistant. She is responsible for monitoring the albatross population and keeping a record of each bird breeding on the island. Each individual is identified by a number on a ring around the leg. The numbers are entered into a database and each year returning birds are observed for their breeding success. The number of chicks is recorded, whether they survived, if they were ringed and what number was assigned to the chicks. An impressive albatross geneology database has been assembled this way. We tested the database by pulling up the record of albatross F39 which we had identified from a photograph taken in mid-flight whilst we were in the Scotia Sea north of the Sourth Orkney Islands. It turned out that this individual had first attempted to breed in 1986 and while trying for almost every year after than only succeeded in 6 of the 27 years since then. To find the reason for such breeding failures is one of the motivations of the monitoring programme. I simply found it astonishing to have encountered an animal, a bird(!), that was possibly older than myself. It is said that there are albatrosses alive today that were ringed when the first seabird researchers came to the island in 1957. They are truly remarkable creatures.

A friendly Gentoo penguin

The other birds under close observation are the resident penguins. Gentoo penguins breed just a few hundreds yards from the station just over the ridge from Freshwater Beach. A rookery of Macaroni penguins is situated on the north-western shore of the island. The shape of penguins foot means they can't be ringed, but their population can still be monitored and studied by other means. Several years ago a study on the evolution of penguins required the collection of their eyeballs. Yes, the eyes of dead penguins! And no animal dies unnoticed on this island. Within minutes of a living being keeling over it will be devoured by skuas, petrels and other predators. The then resident penguin researcher had to watch the colonies closely to wait for the exact moment a penguin had come to the end of its natural life. As soon as it was dead, the researcher would then run over to the deceased animal and remove the eyeballs. Apparently a tea spoon was the tool of choice for this particular part of the research. I forgot to ask whether it was a designated teaspoon....

I had the joy of meeting with local Gentoo penguins who were very much alive. While crouching low to the ground I observed a Gentoo on the beach near the jetty. After a while it even came over and investigated me. The penguin was now within an arms reach! For minutes we were looking at each other, watching each others movements (I stood still, too scared to breathe actually). I was enchanted - It is those moments of intimate eye contact that wild life encounters take on a magical touch and transcend the all too common ticksheet approach to wildlife spotting. A penguin had actually popped over to check me out. And it let me watch and take pictures. The reflective camera lens seemd to be of particular interest - It waddled ever close to get a better look. Maybe at itself? Who knows. It would have been great to get to know the little fellow even better.

I had a wonderful day on Bird Island, and would like to thank the lovely station staff who welcomed us and showed us around. I know we brought chocolate, cheese, wine and earwig-free broccoli, but the station is still their home and workplace. Other than not getting a chance to see the albatrosses in person, I only really regret that, over the early morning start, I forgot to take Pingu, my mascot, to Bird Island. The little fellow could have met its real-life cousins.

Thanks to Mike Gloistein, Hugh Venables and Robin Pasqual for additional research and ideas for this article.





(*) The Antarctic Convergence is a circumpolar region whose boundary undulates between 50° and 60° south. It is defined by a belt of noticable changes in water temperature and sometimes marked by a localised belt of fog or mist - where the warm saline surface currents coming south from teh tropics meet the cold, denser and less saline water flowing north from the Antarctic. Where the two current systems converge the mixing of the conflicting water masses provides a rich environment for plankton growth that fuels the food chain and supports an abundance of wildlife. South Georgia lies south of the Convergence and is therefore biologically speaking an Antarctic Island, unlike the Falklands which lie north of the boundary. (Information abridged from "Antarctica - A guide to wildelife", by Tony Soper, 2004, Bradt Travel Guides UK)