Field notes from the Faroes
I have recently returned back home to Wales after two months away in the mist-enveloped archipelago of the Faroes: a scattering of basalt-layered islands thrust out of the north-east Atlantic Ocean between the Shetland Isles and Iceland. The reason for my northward pilgrimage to this intriguing and fascinating place was to study some of the island's important seabird inhabitants. In particular, focussing on the elusive ocean wanderer known as the European Storm-petrel (Drumhviti in Faroese).
The trip was something of a recce mission to explore the feasibility of establishing a longer term research project involving a collaboration between Faroese partners and with Rob Thomas from Cardiff University. This project (if we are successful in acquiring funding) will hopefully see me embarking on a PhD in the coming years (eeek!), and this year's trip north was a very useful step towards assessing the aims and practicalities of the research we hope to carry out.
This post is my attempt to summarise some of the summer's experiences in the Faroe Islands, and some of our initial progress in beginning a project that we hope will shed light on a plethora of fascinating questions surrounding the lives of Storm-petrels and other nocturnal seabird species.
A bit of background
The Faroe Islands are made up of a jumble of 18 main islands and countless smaller islets, sea stacks and offshore rocks; an archipelago subject to the tumultuous furore of the North Atlantic’s seas and winds, and famous for its ever-present banks of sea mist. Home to some 50,000 human inhabitants, these islands are also home to a far, far greater number of winged inhabitants: seabirds.
Seabirds are present in internationally important numbers across the isles, and this abundance is mirrored in the importance they play in the culture of the Faroese. For hundreds of years, seabirds have provided an important source of food for Faroese people through their eggs and meat (especially the Fulmar and Puffin); seabird names are embedded in cultural placenames (such as the island ‘Skuvoy’, named after its important Great Skua populations) and they feature heavily in the rich storytelling of this region.
Some of the more numerous seabird species include Fulmars (an estimated 600,000 pairs), Puffins (c. 550,000 pairs), European Storm-petrels (c. 250,000 pairs), Kittiwakes (c. 230,000 pairs) and Common Guillemots (c. 175,000 pairs). Smaller numbers of Great Skuas, Arctic Skuas, Leach’s Storm-petrels and Gannets also exist, setting the stage for some impressive bustling seabird metropolises.
Despite such immense seabird colonies, the Faroes have received relatively little attention on the global stage of seabird research historically, and it was in this context that thr Faroese researcher Sjúrður Hammer reached out to myself in the beginning of 2020 with the proposal for some pressing research questions to be investigated.
The following months in spring 2020 saw myself, Rob Thomas from Cardiff University and Sjúrður Hammer (Faroese Environment Agency) develop plans to begin research in the archipelago investigated how nocturnal seabirds (specifically, the European Storm-petrel, Manx shearwater and Leach's Storm-petrel) were interacting with a suite of marine developments, including artificial light pollution, fish farm installations, proposed wind farm developments and other offshore features.
Whilst COVID-19 prevented a recce trip to the Faroe islands in summer 2020, we drew up plans and applied for funding over winter 2020-2021 in the hope of beginning the project in summer 2021. After a year developing ideas, plans and acquiring some initial funding to get the project off the ground, it was awesome to finally get to this windswept land in late July and commence a summer's pilot study for our (hopefully!) long term research project...
The journey begins
After failing to find a wind-powered vessel to whisk me north to the isles (my preferred, low carbon form of transport), my journey involved a short hour-and-a-half flight from Edinburgh to the central island of Vagar in the Faroes on 19th July. Descending from above a duvet of wavy clouds, we entered a dark and misty cloud layer; my first view of this archipelago loomed out of the mist as we passed the dizzying heights of the Vestmanna coastal cliffs and needle-like sea stack projecting skywards. Green fields, bleak moorland, colourful turf-roofed houses, lunar-like rock fields and islands composed of sponge-cake layered rock strata were my first impressions of the landscape. It felt like arriving in some lost world.
I spent my first few days in the 'city' of Tórshavn (as Viking a name as you can get, its etymology derived from 'Thor's Haven'); this city is about as big as large town back home in Wales, with some 25,000 inhabitants living and working from the colourful patchwork of wooden turf-roofed houses. It was wonderful to wander around and take in the sights and sounds of midsummer around the area: Whimbrels singing and displaying over hay meadows of Buttercups and Ragged Robin; Wheatears chakking away atop the volcanic rocks, lounging créches of Eider ducks in the kelp-filled coastal bays, brutish Bonxies (Great Skuas) powering by overhead periodically. And, of course, a glance to the ruffled waters offshore would reveal a whir of seabird flocks.
Whimbrels abounded in the surrounding fields and rocky terrain, their wonderful call echoing out over the landscape
Arriving on Nólsoy
Ever-present on the eastern horizon during these first few days in the island’s capital was the humpbacked-shape of an island where much of my summer would be spent: Nólsoy.
This relatively small island (about 10km long and 2km wide) is home to the World's largest population of European Storm-petrels (Drumhviti in Faroese), with an estimated 50,000 pairs breeding in a breathtaking jumble of boulder scree stretching across its eastern edge. The island also plays host to many thousands of breeding Puffins and Fulmars, with smaller numbers of Kittiwakes, Arctic Skuas, Great Skuas, Black Guillemots, Shags, Manx shearwaters and Arctic Terns. Its characterful community of human inhabitants live in a picturesque little village clinging to the narrow isthmus close to the island's northern tip.
This was to be my home for two months.
My first month was spent living in a tent in the island's 'campsite' (a small field overlooking the harbour); this was shared with chattering flocks of Faroese Starlings, warbling Whimbrels atop nearby lampposts, and the constant screeching cries of Arctic Terns careering around the harbour. My accommodation was upgraded to the luxury of a house for the second month, shared with Anne Ausems (a seabird researcher from the Netherlands, also studying Storm-petrels through the summer), in addition to a number of researchers who joined for short periods over the summer: Rob Thomas, Hannah Hereward, Alex Fink and Birgit Kleinschmidt.
Faroese Starlings.
Ever-present neighbours whilst in residence on Nólsoy. Able to imitate an amazing array of species, they seemed to favour incorporating the calls and songs of Whimbrels, Arctic Terns, Turnstones, Kittiwakes and Golden Plovers
Research begins
To begin to answer some of the research questions set out in this research project, there was much groundwork to set in place and methodologies to trial in this initial phase.
The work this summer involved monitoring Storm-petrel nest sites and nest boxes on Nólsoy, weekly ringing sessions in the colony, thermal imaging surveys of Storm-petrels both at sea off Nólsoy and on a fish farm installation in the nearby Hesterfjord; and assessing the feasibility of beginning GPS tracking on these amazing birds. Besides this work, there were ample additional adventures thrown in for good measure, which I will attempt to feature in some upcoming blogs.
I shall delve into these elements of research in a bit more detail below...
Anne Ausems and the legend Jens-kjeld Jensen stand beneath the towering cliffs of Eggjaklettur on Nólsoy; here lie the breeding grounds of thousands of Storm-petrels
Storm-petrel nest boxes
I'll first have to step back a few months; to the cold, dark days of March and April, as the grasp of winter in the north eased its grip on the land.
At around this time, two locals living on Nólsoy (the legend Jens-kjeld and Jógvan - integral players in my Faroese research activities!) headed out to the Storm-petrel colony on the island and installed 20 artificial nest boxes over the period of a few weeks. The boxes were fashioned out of drainage piping, sunk slightly into the ground and fitted with long entrance tubes; all of which was buried under rocks and sections of grassy turf.
This bespoke box design is the result of the intimate knowledge Jógvan and Jens-kjeld have of the Storm-petrels nesting on Nólsoy, and therefore what might be most appealing for birds to take up residence within.
Artificial nestboxes for seabirds like Storm-petrels and shearwaters are commonly deployed in their colonies, both as a conservation tool to bolster accessible breeding sites, and also as a key way of researching their breeding activity and in-nest behaviours.
For my work, these boxes are key.
European Storm-petrels on Nólsoy nest in the cavities, nooks, crannies and caves provided by an almighty jumble of boulder scree; thousands of years of freeze-thaw action and weathering have splintered the towering basalt cliff into thousands of rocks, which have tumbled down and accumulated in an immense strip of scree at its base.
These nesting sites don't make for easy access.
Above: Storm-petrels on Nólsoy largely nest in cavities amongst a jumble of boulder scree below the cliff edge of Eggjaklettur
To fit GPS tags onto breeding Storm-petrels - as is my hope - you really need to have accessible nest sites that can be checked and monitored regularly.
This is where the nest boxes come in. The luxurious villas installed in the early spring have hatches on their lids, allowing easy access to the nest chamber within. Much of the summer's work was spent monitoring these nestboxes in the Storm-petrel colony, to see which might attract in birds seeking a nest sites to breed in.
The only problem with Storm-petrels (they are truly wonderful birds) is that they can be quite sensitive around their nest sites. This means you can't simply peer into the boxes every few days to see which are becoming occupied; this could be potentially detrimental for 'prospecting' birds investigating the boxes, which may be startled by the opening of the box lid and then never come back.
As such, we have to deploy a suite of shrewd investigative techniques to assess which boxes might be used: sticks (low tech approach), playback audio (medium tech) and camera traps (higher tech).
Let me explain some more…
Small sticks placed upright in the entrance tubes can give a very rough and ready idea which boxes *might* be being used: when a bird enters the tube, it knocks the stick inwards; when leaving, it is knocked outwards. When attacked by a sheep, the stick disappears (note the caveat in the stick technique).
But sticks can only get you so far.
Prong two of the nestbox checks involved the use of an audio device playing a Storm-petrel's mesmerising purring 'song' (we used a recording taken in the Nósoy colony, just to ensure birds were subject to the same local dialect). The use of this 'playback' often induces birds in their nest sites to respond, either with a hiccup-like 'terrrr-chick' call; or with the full blown purring song. By playing the song to each nestbox, those willing to respond (not all do) will start up and allow you to confidently say whether a bird is within the box.
Prong three of the nestbox checks drew on the use of a handful of camera traps. This nifty devices can record in infra-red at night (very handy for a nocturnal species!), and are triggered by movement. In theory then, these devices can be deployed near some of the nestboxes to record the comings and goings of birds. That is, unless the stakes you fasten the camera traps to are rubbed over by sheep; or the cameras themselves dislodged by these persistently devious characters.
All in all, though, the use of these three techniques allowed us to get a really good insight into how the nestboxes fared through the 2021 season: we ended up having three boxes with Storm-petrels breeding inside, whose fluffy little chicks we were able to monitor through their development period. Several other boxes were actively visited by prospecting birds who, in some cases, built a small grass-lined nest within, but never ended up nesting.
The promisingly high use of these nestboxes through the 2021 breeding season is exciting news indeed, laying the groundwork for our hopes to carry out GPS tracking work on these birds in 2022 (if funding allows). Watch this space!
Nocturnal research activities
Mist netting Storm-petrels with Jógvan in the colony on Nólsoy - an atmospheric ringing site!
Besides the nestbox checks, another big element of the research this summer involved the use of a nifty little thermal-imaging camera device, loaned to me kindly by good friend and ringer Rob Sandham. This device is a game changer for observing a nocturnal species like the Storm-petrel, and studying its behaviours and movements under the cover of darkness.
This thermal imaging device allows you to see objects which produce heat; both living and inanimate. Rocks which have heated up in the sunny rays of the Faroese sun, for example, will still show a slight glowing colour through the filter of a thermal imaging camera. But warm-blooded animals, like a Storm-petrel, will show up in a white-hot colour which allows for easy observing of otherwise ghostly characters.
This device helps immensely in shedding light on a plethora of questions regarding the behaviour of nocturnal seabirds like the Storm-petrel. For my project, in particular, I am hoping to find out how such seabirds interact with offshore fish farms around the Faroese archipelago; I hope to see how they respond to artificial sources of light at night, and how these birds use areas offshore where there are proposals for wind farms to be built.
And so, armed with this thermal imaging camera, myself and assistant researchers set out on a number of adventurous missions to see what could be discovered through its use…
Nocturnal activity #1
Our first nocturnal activities involved visiting a fish farm installation in a nearby fjord at night, and scanning the immediate area to see whether Storm-petrels were feeding or frequenting the area. This work was carried out with the enormous help and collaboration of the fish farm company Hiddenfjord, who are doubly interested in what the research will reveal. I didn't think I'd ever end up on a swaying fish farm, somewhere off the Faroese coast at 2am scanning for seabirds. But thus is the nature of research. These visits (we managed three over the course of August) were highly informative, and revealed that Storm-petrels were present in surprising numbers around the fish farm at night, feeding and flying close by consistently over the visits. Whether birds are feeding on offal and aggregated planktonic creatures around fish farms is hard to say, but will certainly be something we hope to investigate further.
Nocturnal activity #2
This night-time excursion acquiring a vessel and heading off Nólsoy's east coast at night to visit an area of the sea where a wind farm is proposed. After a post in a local Facebook group, a boat owner living nearby got in touch to divulge us in our intended mission. We set out at the gathering of dusk, and off into the rolling waves east of the island. Combining the swaying sea motion aboard a boat with scanning through a thermal imaging camera is a sure test of anyone's sea legs.
We all survived the two trips (just), although I think it isn't the most recommended activity for those prone to sea sickness. Aboard the vessel, we carried out several surveys to record the presence, abundance and behaviours of the Storm-petrels commuting to and from one of their largest breeding colonies in the world. It was amazing to see the buzz of activity offshore, with birds zipping to and from from land, flying in their characteristic petrel-like flight that is reminiscent of a bat. It was important to acquire some information on their activity around this area too, because the proposal for a number of wind turbines in this area of water could have an effect on these (as well as other) seabirds. Gathering information on how they use the offshore marine space is vital to ensure such renewable developments can be carried out in the best and most informed way possible.
Nocturnal activity #3
This work was focused on recording Storm-petrels at night (using the thermal imaging camera) from various points around the rocky shore of Nólsoy. The aim of this nocturnal pursuit was to build up a baseline dataset of the Storm-petrel's abundance and movements around the island. Scanning the sea from land with the thermal imaging camera, we were able to record the number of birds passing by and what manner of flight behaviour they displayed (for example, fast commuting flights or slower, foraging flights). These observations can then be compared to other sites around nearby coastlines, or where artificial lights are present, or perhaps where fish farm installations are operating. A particular highlight for me was seeing (and hearing!) a small pod of Porpoise just offshore one night, blowing a puff of air gently in the still night air, and seeing their glistening backs through the thermal imaging camera as they surfaced. Fantastic to see.
Nocturnal activity #4 (there was a lot of night work!)
Whilst not strictly part of my research activities, it was hard to resist the temptation to get out into the spectacular colony of Storm-petrels at night to help with the occasional mist-netting session to do some ringing work. The local ringers on Nólsoy (Jógvan and Jens-kjeld) carry out ringing throughout each summer, often catching many thousands of birds over the course of a couple of months. Each bird is fitted with its own uniquely coded little metal ring, allowing its subsequent movements and age to be revealed should it be caught again. We headed out once or twice each week to carry out ringing on calm nights, which allowed Anne Ausems (a similarly fanatical 'Petrel head' studying these truly fascinating birds over the summer) to collect various samples from the Storm-petrels for her own research project. I've written a more detailed blog about the memorable ringing excursions here, so go and check it out if you're not already running out of stamina in reading this blog piece!
Put together, these various strands of fieldwork have been a brilliant start to researching the charismatic little 'Storm bird' of the north. I am looking forward to delving into the data we've acquired in more depth over the coming months, and applying to various funding bodies to see the research continued in the coming years.
Beyond the narrowed focus of Storm-petrels and seabirds, it was a true delight to spend time getting to know various Faroese people during my time in the islands. The warm, welcoming and inclusive nature of these islanders made my time here really special, and threw in all manner of enjoyable extra activities I hadn't anticipated; from helping out with the hay harvest surrounding the village of Nólsoy, to a day's mission chasing sheep around on the rugged southern quarters of the island to help with the annual shearing event. It really was refreshing to see communities still so connected to the land and seas surrounding them, and the ever-changing weathers hurled their way by the tempestuous North Atlantic.
I look forward to my return.
I must say a big thank you to all who helped make this summer's work possible: from the invaluable support on the ground from the legend Jens-kjeld Jensen, Sjúrður Hammer and Jógvan; my various friends and helpers who assisted with the research (Anne Ausems, Hannah Hereward, Alex Fink and Rob Thomas), and to the financial support from Hiddenfjord fish farm company and grants from the Seabird Group and Kenneth Williamson travel bursary.
