Necker Island Highlights: Flamingo Feet, Hybrid Ibises and a Seductive Lemur

 

Flamingos and Scarlet Ibises mingle on Necker Island in the British Virgin Islands

 

After years of mentioning Necker Island as the source of the celebrated flamingos and scarlet ibises in the Virgin Islands, I finally got to go on a tour there organized by the Virgin Islands Audubon Society group on St. John. 

 

Richard Branson has transformed this small British Virgin Islands site into a conservation center for once-native flamingos, plus ibises and tropical parrots, as well as an exotic mix of Madagascar lemurs, giant tortoises from Seychelles and even baby kangaroos!

 

As the flamingos on Necker have mated and multiplied in number, some have spread out by flying to other nearby islands, and we are grateful that there are now over 100 flamingos on St. John.

 

Male flamingo getting into position to mate 

 

Besides catching some flamingos mating in the pond, I was most interested in a group of flamingos standing around on the sand. I don’t usually see their bright pink feet. In most of my photos they are standing in the water. 

 

 

I also got some photos of the flamingos in flight, when their feet are visible, but hanging down loosely. 

 

 

Meanwhile, six scarlet ibises were gathered in a tree near the pond – the most I had seen together. 

 

 

Then a pink one flew in. I assumed it was a baby. We were delighted to have a mating pair on St. John this season and their maturing chick has splotchy pink feathers. The young ones’ feathers get redder as they grow up and consume more food (crustaceans and algae) containing the carotenoids that color their feathers.

 

 

Later I learned that there are also some white ibises on the island. And that they mate with the scarlet ones. And have pink babies that grow up to be pink adults. That was a lot for me to process. I started imagining how the social dynamics of color differences worked out for everyone. 

 

I saw a scarlet ibis sitting with a white one, enjoying the shade under a bush. Both  had dark bills so maybe they both were breeding males. Otherwise their bills would be pinkish or tan colored, unless they were just messy from poking around in  the mud looking for food along the edge of the pond. 

 

 

The white and scarlet ibises can mate because they are closely related genetically. Their offspring may not all have exactly the same pinkish coloring though. 

 

 

Despite my love for flashy birds, I have to admit that the most exciting part of my trip was when I had a personal interaction with a red ruffed lemur. I had been doubtful about the wisdom of bringing lemurs from Madagascar to the Virgin Islands, but I was convinced when I learned they are hunted for meat at home, and in danger of extinction. 

 

Red ruffed lemur

 

In the wild, red ruffed lemurs mostly eat fruits and are important distributors of seeds. They also like nectar, and frequently carry pollen from one tree to another on their fluffy fur.  

 

When our tour guide offered us small pellets to feed the red ruffed lemurs, I noticed one sitting by itself looking a bit forlorn (or so I thought). I went over and held out my hand flat with the tiny snack on it. I was quite surprised when the lemur reached out with both its little hands and gently pulled me closer.  

 

 

I know it’s a cliché, but I felt like my heart melted. We stayed together that way for a few minutes after the kibble was gone, and then it was time to move on. A truly unexpected moment of grace.  

 

Some Birds and Bees are ‘Nectar Robbers’

 

Male Antillean Crested Hummingbird piercing a Ginger Thomas flower

 

When I noticed several Antillean Crested Hummingbirds flitting around the Ginger Thomas flowers I thought, how sweet, they are busy pollinating the flowers. But no!

 

I went to get my camera, and took some shots with my telephoto lens. At a distance I hadn’t been able to see exactly what the birds were doing, but when I looked at the photos in my computer I was shocked.  

 

They weren’t even thinking about pollinating the flowers! These birds were entirely bypassing the insides of the trumpet-shaped flowers, where the female stigmas were waiting patiently to receive male pollen grains that would fertilize them. 

 

Instead the hummingbirds were staying outside and sticking their sharp beaks into the flower bottoms, sucking out the sweet liquid directly from the nectar sac. 

 

Flowers produce nectar to provide an enticement and reward for visitors that then pick up pollen (often inadvertently) and transport it from one flower to another. Food in exchange for cross-pollination services. Not a free lunch.      

   

A female Antillean Crested Hummingbird is lighter and lacks the crest.

 

Self-pollination by a flower leads to lack of genetic diversity, with diminished strength and adaptability of the resulting seeds and seedlings. Like many other trees, a Ginger Thomas (Tecoma stans), also known as Yellow Trumpetbush, makes an effort to avoid self-pollination. One measure, for example, is to set different times of day for pollen dispersion and stigma receptivity within a flower, so self-pollination can’t happen by mistake. 

 

The Ginger Thomas really wants the birds and bees to come and bring outside pollen into contact with the flower’s inner reproductive parts. The flower uses its bright yellow color and an enticing scent to attract potential pollinators. How frustrating then for the flowers to instead be poked, probed, and robbed of their laboriously made sweet fluids with nothing to show for it.   

 

In defense of the Antillean Crested Hummingbirds, the issue might be that their bills are too short – maybe only half an inch – so they can’t reach the nectar sac by going through the natural flower opening, which is narrow, and can be two inches deep. Then again, hummingbirds also have long tongues that are designed to extend way out past their bills to allow them to reach deep inside tubular flowers. 

 

Maybe it’s just easier to break in. 

Antillean Crested Hummingbirds hover with up to 80 wing beats per second.  

 

 

Interestingly, although Ginger Thomas has been designated as the official flower of the U.S. Virgin Islands, there is some question about whether it is actually native in these islands. So perhaps it is unfair of me to accuse the crested hummingbirds of violating some ancient coevolution pact in this relationship.  

 

Other common local hummingbirds, the Green-throated Caribs, don’t seem to have any trouble reaching inside the Ginger Thomas flowers and performing pollinator duties. They are larger and have longer, curved bills. Probably also longer tongues. 

Green-throated Carib hummingbirds are larger, and don't steal the nectar. 

 

However, they are happy to go to feeders, bypassing the flowers and their pollination needs altogether. (Something to think about when you put out sugar water for them.) 

 

 

I also saw Bananaquits exploring the Ginger Thomas flowers. They are known as ‘Sugar Birds’, so of course they would be attracted to the sweet nectar. But they certainly don’t have the right type of bill to slip inside the elongated Ginger Thomas flowers. 

 

From watching the Bananaquits, though, I know that they too have long tongues, which they sometimes use to drink from hummingbird feeders. 

Bananaquits have long tongues too.

 

Nevertheless, the Bananaquits followed the example of the Antillean Crested Hummingbirds and just poked holes in the flowers. 

 

 

Meanwhile, it’s not only birds that are nectar robbers. Bees do it too!

 

A few big, shiny black Carpenter Bees came to the Ginger Thomas flowers and went straight for the flower ends. These are native solitary bees – they don’t live in hives with other bees. They are called ‘carpenters’ because they bore holes in tree branches and other wood to make nests. Then they place ‘bee bread’ made out of pollen and nectar in the nests with their eggs to provide food for the emerging larvae. 

 

Female carpenter bee and Antillean crested hummingbird

 

Too bulky to crawl inside Ginger Thomas flower, a Carpenter Bee can use its sharp, wood-cutting mandibles to make an incision at the base of the flower. Then it can suck up nectar from the hole through its straw-like tongue or proboscis, which clearly isn’t long enough to reach down inside the Ginger Thomas flower. Or it might go to a hole already made by a bird to mop up any leftover nectar seeping out.    

 

Carpenter bee poking Ginger Thomas flower

 

European Honeybees come to the Ginger Thomas flowers too. They were brought here to pollinate crops, but they will go to wild trees as well (sometimes reducing nectar availability for native bees). A honeybee will crawl in and out of different flowers, drinking nectar through its proboscis. Meanwhile, it is also collecting pollen in sacs on its legs and transferring some of it to other flowers, thereby facilitating pollination. 

 

But a honeybee might instead use an already-made hole to suck up nectar, as will other possibly pollinating insects, like ants and wasps.

 

Honeybee crawling on Ginger Thomas

 

It turns out that nectar robbing is actually pretty common behavior. Too much thieving from flowers could significantly reduce the ability of trees to get pollinated. Or cause hardship to other would-be pollinators that lose out on going to those flowers and getting nectar as a food source.

 

Yet the Ginger Thomas trees seem to be thriving, despite all the nectar robbing. On the other hand, the Antillean Crested Hummingbirds became pretty scarce after the 2017 hurricanes, and still might need some extra resources. 

 

Perhaps the Ginger Thomas trees have adapted their nectar production to take the skimming into account. Or are actually being generous in feeding the neighborhood birds and bees, and would characterize these interactions as interspecies generosity rather than robbery. 

 

 

 

Seabirds Nest on Offshore Islands to Avoid Predators

Red-billed Tropicbird at Carvel Rock

 

When tropicbirds and other seabirds are not nesting, they mostly stay out at sea, so you aren’t likely to see them unless you, too, are out on the water. And you probably need a boat to see them even when they are settled down and nesting. 

 

When I put together a book of photos of St. John birds, Looking for Birds on St. John, a few people (mostly sailors) asked why tropicbirds weren’t included. I explained that I was generally birding on land and had never seen a tropicbird. To me, tales of these high-flying white birds with long ribbon tails seemed fantastical. But then I got excited about trying to actually see one for myself.   

Red-billed Tropicbird

In 2024, as a Christmas treat, one of my sons rented a small boat (actually a Zodiak, a larger version of a dinghy) and captained our family around St. John. I had heard that some of the seabirds nest out on the back side of Congo Cay, off the north shore of St. John, so I asked to head out there first. Unfortunately the water was very rough when we got there, with swells from the north breaking against the cliffs and then quickly rushing back out to whack us from the other side. I was afraid we would capsize, and I would find myself dragged underwater by my heavy camera and telephoto lens. Anyway there was no way I could focus my camera with the boat lurching so heavily. Disappointed, I asked my son to turn around. 

 

We decided to go along the south shore of St. John instead and had a lovely day snorkeling. I looked for nests on the high cliffs by Ditliff Point and Ram Head, and deduced from telltale white poop stains that some birds had spent substantial amounts of time on those rocks. We didn’t actually see any birds there as we went by though.    

  

This past Christmas my son took us out again, and the water was somewhat calmer on the north shore. But again, it was too rough behind Congo. Then towards the end of the day, as we were returning to town along the north shore, he swung by Carvel Rock, which is just off the east end of Congo, and suddenly called out “There it is!” 

 

An unmistakable tropicbird was fluttering its long tail feathers above the top of a craggy cliff on Carvel Rock.  

Red-billed Tropicbird

 

After hovering for a while, the bird approached the rocks.   

 

Then it settled down on a rock shelf that seemed to be serving as a nest. 

 

When the tropicbird flew up again, I couldn’t see any sign of nesting materials on the ledge, or an egg or a chick. But we were looking up from the water and didn’t have a good view into the back of the cliff. 

 

I read later that a female red-billed tropicbird usually only produces one egg at a time, and just lays it directly on the rocks, cradled in a cavity or crevice. Then both parents help incubate it, for about a month and a half. Once it hatches, the chick stays in place for about three months until it is ready to fly. So if all goes well, there will still be some tropicbird activity at Carvel Rock for a while yet. Their peak period for nesting in this area is between December and March. However, a red-billed tropicbird pair might breed almost any time during the year, depending on water temperatures and availability of fish. (Cooler water generally means more fish.)

 

Meanwhile, the V.I. Audubon Society’s volunteers from Lovango Cay for the annual Christmas bird count, Dan Boyd and Fiona Russell, reported seeing two white-tailed tropicbirds while they were out scanning for seabirds from their boat. And also a red-billed one. Both types are known to nest in this area. So now I have a new mission: to see a white-tailed tropicbird too. They have lighter colored bills – more yellow or light orange – and black lines of feathers along their backs. 

 

Nesting on a remote island helps protect a bird’s eggs and chicks from being eaten by a foraging rat, cat, dog, crab or mongoose, or even another bird, like a pearly-eyed thrasher or a hawk. Plus it’s harder for people to come out and collect the eggs for food.

 

The nests are also less likely to be trampled, by people or goats. 

Goat climbing on a cliff on Lovango Cay

On the small offshore islands, rats that swim over to look for food seem to be causing the most problems. The V.I. Audubon Society has been collaborating with the Friends of the V.I. National Park, and park managers, to support a study of invasive predators on some of the cays within the park boundaries. A recent survey conducted by an Island Conservation team indicated that black rats are present on most of the small islands in the park. Implementing a plan for eradicating the rats would be an important step towards protecting the nesting seabirds.   

 

Carvel Rock already seems like a pretty secure place. Located just outside the VI National Park, it looms up in the water like a fortress.

Carvel Rock

 

There is no beach or space to land a boat, and the cliffs rise sharply from the water. Still, I have heard that people sometimes climb the cliffs to jump off. And I suppose a hungry, determined rat could swim over from Congo to explore new territory.  

Cliff edge at Carvel Rock

 

I was surprised to see that an intrepid tree had taken root in a crack in the rock face. I asked St. John’s local tree expert, Eleanor Gibney, about it and she said it was a native fig (Ficus citrifolia) that had been growing out there for over 50 years. I imagined a bird flying over there after eating a tasty fig, setting down, and then depositing a seed in its poop.    

 

I didn’t see many other signs of life on Carvel that day. There was one other bird, a brown booby, which seemed to just be taking a rest on the rock. These common seabirds are easily visible from the shoreline, or flying beside the ferries, but they make their nests away from people on offshore islands, usually gathering together in groups.   

 

Brown Booby at Carvel Rock

Last May, on a V.I. Audubon Society boat ride, I did see a few bridled terns nesting high up on Carvel Rock. Like tropicbirds, these are seabirds that rarely come close to shore. 

Bridled Terns nesting at Carvel Rock in May 2025

The idea of hiding out on an isolated island fortress can seem fairly appealing these days. Yet even though nesting birds are able to engage in some protective behaviors, they clearly have only limited defenses against predator invasions, climate change, more violent storms and habitat loss. Just like us. Except that hopefully we have a bit more capacity to anticipate, and avert, foreseeable dangers. 

 

Partying with Flamingos

Like people, flamingos enjoy getting together in groups and socializing. And this year we have been blessed with amazing gatherings in some of St. John’s ponds – the annual December bird count included over 100 flamingos. Wow!

 

A couple of years ago we were delighted to report just one flamingo that showed up on the south shore, so these flashy birds are providing a dramatic new bird watching attraction on St. John.   

 

Historically, flamingos were native residents of the Virgin Islands, but then early European settlers found them to be good eating – ‘tastes like a goose’. Their honking voices do make them sound a lot like geese. But of course they are so much more beautiful. Anyway, between hunting, feather gathering and habitat loss, they were all wiped out by the mid-1900s. 

 

Then in 1992 a conservation group reintroduced a small group of flamingos from Bermuda to the British Virgin Islands. Those birds successfully reproduced, and there are now hundreds of flamingos on Anegada, the farthest north island in the BVIs. Another group was later brought to Necker Island. With growing populations in the BVIs, it seems that some of the flamingos have now decided to spread out and are flying over to check out the living conditions on St. John.

 

I have been lucky enough to spend time with some flamingos having rather noisy parties. I wasn’t actually invited, but they were gracious enough to allow me to sit quietly on the sidelines with my camera. 

 

Sometimes the flamingos seem to be enjoying quiet conversations. 

 

 

Later there might be dancing.

Underneath the wings, the flamingo feathers are black, not pink.

 

And sometimes it looks like they are kissing.

 

Perhaps an embrace. Or a power move?

 

Then, all of a sudden, one of them might take offense and deliver a quick bite.  

 

Which might lead to some chasing.

Many of the flamingos in St. John now seem to be adults, judging from their size and coloring. But I noticed a few small, white ones that looked quite young. I am wondering if they might have been born on St. John over the summer, but can’t be sure. A baby flamingo grows almost to full size within a few months, and can fly soon after that, so possibly the young ones flew over to St. John with their parents. 

 

It can take a couple of years for the young flamingos to get their distinctive pink look. As they grow up they have to consume lots of red-orange carotenoid pigments (like the ones that color carrots and tomatoes). The flamingos get those pigments by eating microscopic algae in the water, and crustaceans like brine shrimp that also eat the algae. The pigments are broken down in their digestive systems and then get deposited in their feathers and skin. 

 

Members of a group of flamingos can vary quite a bit in coloring depending on their age and diet. Male flamingos are usually a bit larger and heavier, but not necessarily a darker color than females.

 

The feeding process involves the flamingos holding their heads underwater, shuffling their feet to stir up the mud on the bottom, sucking in mouthfuls of water, using their tongues to push out the water and strain it through comb-like filtering structures inside their beaks, and then swallowing anything edible. 

 

Besides algae and brine shrimp, they also pick up other small crustaceans and invertebrates, insect larvae, and some seeds and other plant material. They are able to tolerate feeding in very salty ponds where other birds don’t go because they have special glands that they can use to excrete salt through their nostrils. 

 

And when the partying is over, it’s time to rest and give thanks for the blessing of a day with flamingos. 

A Scarlet Ibis Family in the Fish Bay Pond on St. John!

 

There’s a juvenile scarlet ibis that was born here! Now almost as big as its parents. 

And there may be more wandering around. My neighbors recently saw three babies in the pond with the parents. But I have only seen one young one since I returned a few weeks ago. 

What a thrill to see these birds up close. For six seasons my husband and I watched the one lonely ibis in Fish Bay, hoping that an appropriate mate would come. Based on previous photographs, I think the bird on the left is the resident male. His feathers are now looking a bit uneven in color, but that is probably due to molting, which usually happens after breeding season.  

I think the newcomer is the female, and a younger bird because of her not-fully-developed purplish neck feathers. The male and female adults have similarly colored feathers, but they don’t reach their full adult plumage for a few years. Their color comes from carotenoid pigments contained in the food they consume, including small crabs, shrimps and other invertebrates, as well as some types of seeds and insects. They use their long bills, which have sensitive tips, to probe in the mud for food.  

I heard reports of other ibises coming over to Fish Bay the summer before this. (They have all probably come from the flock introduced by Richard Branson on Necker Island in the British Virgin Islands.) However, there was only one ibis in the pond when we returned last fall. And the resident ibis continued to consort with a snowy egret, which had become a faithful companion, year after year.

Interestingly, the snowy egret is still there, now apparently as a family friend. And sometimes a very large yellow-crowned night heron also seems to be standing guard. 

 

A great egret has also taken an interest in the youngster. 

As well as a green heron that monitors all the activity on the pond. 

And a black-necked stilt insisted on being included in a family portrait.

The trees along the road have grown up so much it is hard to see into the pond now. The birds tend to stay far back in a corner by the big tree stump. To get a view of them my husband and I had to crawl down off the side of the road and creep along through the bushes into the mangroves along the edge of the pond. Lots of rain has made the ground soft and muddy, and to my dismay, one morning I ended up sliding down into the slimy mud on my butt. Fortunately I was able to keep my telephoto lens safe, and later went back with dry pants. 

We have mostly seen the ibises between 6:30 and 8:00 am. After that they usually disappear into the bush or fly off. However, there are many other birds using the pond throughout the day. Besides the ibises, egrets, stilts and green herons, we also saw little blue herons, lesser yellowlegs, spotted sandpipers and clapper rails.  

We recently learned that the Fish Bay conservation land, which includes this pond, has been bought by the V.I. government with a grant from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). It is to be held as a nature preserve by the V.I. Department of Planning and Natural Resource in a new Division of Territorial Parks and Protected Areas. The ownership of this area was in limbo for a number of years during which the land has been mostly untouched, except by the hurricanes. 

It will be wonderful for this new nature preserve status to ensure long-term protection for all the wild birds and other creatures living in the wetlands here. It would also be good to provide a low impact viewing space that will allow people to observe what’s going on in the pond without disturbing the wildlife. The platform on St. John at Frank Bay built by the V.I. Audubon Society could be a good model. 

The wetlands currently offer safe nesting spaces for a variety of birds. I was interested to see that both the scarlet ibis parents seemed to be taking care of the young one. I read that because of their long bills the newborn babies need help holding their heads up to get fed, so the feeding process requires two parents.  

The baby scarlet ibises are grey. Then they soon start growing pink wing feathers, along with black feathers for their wing tips. My husband refers to this one as ‘splotchy’. 

The young ibis occasionally keeps company with a chatty black-necked stilt instead of the parents.  

Possibly after a while the parents start to seem overbearing.

One day the scarlet ibis youngster may fly off to pursue its own adventures. But for now it is a welcome addition to the Fish Bay neighborhood.