PICTURE THIS: winter has melted into spring and you’re boarding a plane ready to move across the country alone to start graduate school. Your fieldwork takes place in the Mediterranean climate of the gorgeous Gulf Islands of Pacific Canada. Upon landing you trade in a plane for a boat and a boat for a tin can. The tin can rocks against the rise and fall of the waves as you venture farther from civilization. Finally, you recognize a small rock on the horizon as the island that will be your home for the next few months, but as you draw closer the small rock remains a small rock. The image you pictured of a sand beach disappears and you’re greeted by a cliff only accessible by a small dingy. Its sensory overload upon arrival- your nostrils are filled with the smell of seaweed and feces and your ears are oppressed by the screams of several thousand gulls. You identify the plywood shack at the top of the cliff as your house on an island known only to Google as a bare island and you think to yourself, what the f*ck have I done?
For my first time out on the island, four of us left Swartz Bay together in a 16-foot aluminum boat. I remember nearing the island and thinking “there is no way it’s that rock”. From the second we arrived the incessant screaming of the gulls became unbearable.
(Side note: apparently seagull is not an appropriate term because they simply do not exist, ornithologists will laugh at you if you say anything other than “gull”… so you’re welcome I guess). The population size increased from 200 a few decades ago to THOUSANDS of them now on this tiny island. Their excretion has actually led to the death of several trees hundreds of years old. Essentially, they chill out around 10pm when it is fully dark and sleep until 5am. Like clockwork every morning at 5am we wake up to their annoying screams. We try to sleep until 7:00 or so before getting up for the day- earplugs are essential!!!!
Enough about the gulls. After anchoring about 50m from the rocky island, we have to push a dingy into the water and load all of our bags and grocery supplies onto it. It usually takes a few trips. I am working with a girl studying in Norway who I don’t think has ever been on a boat before, and a guy who grew up here that is fantastic at boating, so they make a funny pair on the dingy. With the exception of the cabins, you would have no idea anyone ever comes to this island. It has purposely been kept this way so as to not invite others to come disturb the research. Every time we are down by the shore (when we arrive, when we do dishes, when we watch a sunset) we have to climb back up a steep rock face with slippery algae and sharp barnacles that get more difficult to traverse when it has been raining.
I have a small room in a small cabin where I store my things. There is a kitchen/office cabin where we eat and chat. We start our day with hot drinks and breakfast then head out to watch song sparrows until lunch. If it starts raining we go back to the cabin and wait it out with some hot chocolate; thankfully, the birds don’t like the rain either. Actually our second day here it hailed mildly. The weather is pretty unpredictable, but overall it’s been pretty nice. In the evening we cook dinner, there is a nice stove and oven but nothing else. We’ve done some tacos and curry so far but are planning to make pizza dough next time we’re out. We wash our dishes in the ocean down the steep cliff (no running water) and sit by the candlelight (no electricity). It’s usually super cold when I crawl into my sleeping bag, and I almost always have to get out to walk to the outhouse at some point in the night but thankfully it’s not far.
When I’m not doing fieldwork, I learn to identify shrubs, read, and journal. I also spend a lot of time itching because somehow along the way, I contracted some bird fleas, which is pretty unpleasant but manageable.
When we headed back out to the mainland for a few days I was in charge of driving the boat back Unfortunately, the importance of throwing it into gear with power was overemphasized to me, and the sensitivity of the throttle was very much underemphasized. This led me to rev the boat really fast and catch everybody off guard- luckily no one went overboard! We had a good laugh and I was more hesitant to start driving after that.
Field work
Before this experience I hadn’t researched birds- I wouldn’t even say I was a bird person. I’ve got to learn the songs that each bird sings pretty well so that is helping me with species identification. As I continue to document my work, I will explain it in more detail but the premise is that we watch song sparrows throughout the day and are specifically tracking male birds. We have to watch each for an hour, noting its activity (singing, eating, bathing) and the timing. Our goal is to find out if the male is mated to a female so we can eventually find their nest and band their kids. We can tell the birds apart because they all have an established territory and a unique colour band on each leg. It takes a lot of practice to be able to use the binoculars to spot the bird, and its tiny leg, and make out the colours on its little leg. I am not good at it yet.
As of now, there are only 3 female birds on the island which is the lowest the population has ever been. So that frees up some of our time allowing us to focus on the other main bird of interest on the island: fox sparrows. We’ve set up traps with birdseed to tempt the sparrows. After a few days of habituating them to the crate, we lock the doors so that we can trap them and band them.
The coolest thing I’ve done is banding baby birds. We wait until the parents leave the nest, then I pick the babies up and keep them in a little cloth bag which I then put in my jacket to keep the babies warm while they’re out of the nest. We always band them when they are about 5 days old. I weigh them, measure the length of their wing and leg (called a tarsus), and put the bands on. Its so much harder than you’d expect to keep them still, I’m always scared I will hurt them. They are so cute and ugly at the same time. Afterwards, we return them to the nest but do so strategically. We try to hide their freshly banded legs so the coloured bands aren’t showing and attracting predators to the nest. We also try to return the vegetation around the nest to seem as undisturbed as possible. The parents are usually not far away, watching or chirping at us.
When we first arrived I saw a little brown animal scurry by me on some rocks, I must have scared him. He was a cute little otter who had probably been hanging out here a lot and was likely caught off guard to see us show up. He immediately ran into the water when he saw me. I’ve also seen quite a few seals- when I am bored of looking for birds I point my binoculars out into the water and can see the odd seal head poking out. They’re SO cute! The other day in the boat I saw a sea lion jump out of the water. There’s been some great moments that, for the most part, happen too quick to capture on camera.
Obviously, there are tons of birds, including cormorants, red-winged blackbirds, geese, gulls, and sparrows to name a few. I attached a picture of goose eggs which I was actually able to pick up. Apparently, a few geese migrate here to try to lay eggs every year but the eggs never survive because of otters and other birds eating them. The ones in this picture disappeared the next day. I also find bones everywhere and we even saw a whole skull (not yet decomposed) the other day.
We’re going to learn so many more ways to track and catch the birds. So far its been pretty tiring work (it doesn’t seem like it would be, but even just living is tiring out here). But the views are great so I can’t complain too much! That’s all for now.
“The more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe about us, the less taste we shall have for destruction”
-RACHEL CARSON
Last Updated on May 14, 2023 by Megan Duchesne