Sooty Terns and Brown Noddies Are Nesting on Saba Island Near UVI

Sooty Terns hover over the top of Saba Island with St. Thomas in the background

After my recent report on seabirds coming to nest on cays around St. John, I got a message from Steve Prosterman, from the Center for Marine and Environmental Studies at the University of the Virgin Islands on St. Thomas. He was kind enough to invite me on a boat trip to see the nesting colony of Sooty Terns out on Saba Island, which is about three miles south of the St. Thomas airport. 

I was enticed by the idea of thousands of birds nesting out on this little island. I had never seen even one Sooty Tern before. That’s not surprising since they are pelagic seabirds that stay far offshore except when they are breeding.  

 

Steve Prosterman took us out on a dive boat leaving from the UVI research lab in Brewers Bay

A group of students and teachers from the Gold Leaf Education Association, which focuses on nature studies, were the main participants on the boat trip. Steve Simonsen, a well-known St. John photographer, also came over with me to join the group. 

 

 Ella Troutman led a group of young Gold Leaf students. 

 

We weren’t going to get off the boat and go onto Saba Island because that would disturb the nesting birds. This is a small uninhabited island just for the birds. It is managed as a wildlife sanctuary by the VI Department of Planning and Natural Resources, Division of Fish and Wildlife. 

 

The name Saba was actually quite confusing for me. A few months ago I had been at Saba Rock Resort off Virgin Gorda in the British Virgin Islands. And then there is also the Saba that is an island down near Saint Martin. Later I read that ‘siba’ is the Taino word for ‘rock’, which got converted by Europeans to ‘saba’. That helps explain why it became a popular name for small, steep islands.

 

Saba Island rises to about 200 feet, with steep cliffs on the south side.

 

If I had learned that about the name of the island before I went out there, I wouldn’t have had a picture in my mind of a low, flat sandy cay with thousands of birds all sitting on nests in plain sight. As it turned out, the nesting birds were mostly hidden down in the clumps of grasses and shrubs growing on the steep hillsides. 

 

After we pulled into a small cove offshore, there was a chaotic scene onboard, with the boat rocking, hundreds of birds whirling around making shrill cries, and children moving around on the boat also calling out excitedly. 

 

At first I started waving my heavy telephoto lens around madly, trying to focus on different birds as they whipped by. It seemed like a miracle when I was actually able to catch one in motion.  

 

A Sooty Tern flew up to the top of the grassy hillside.

 

Eventually I was also able to locate a few that were settled down in a more open area than the other terns. Like many seabirds, these terns don’t actually make nests. They just scrape out a small patch in the soil or sand, and maybe cover it with a few leaves, then place their egg on top. 

 

Sooty Terns only lay one egg, and the parents take turns incubating it for about a month.

Some of the Sooty Terns were going out fishing in the cove. However, when they are fishing, they don’t hover and then dive deep down under the surface, like some terns. That’s because their feathers don’t have oil to make them water repellent, and they could become water-logged and sink. Instead, they dip down while flying over the water, nabbing fish near the surface.  

 

 When the eggs hatch, both parents will help catch fish to feed the chick. 

 

Once they breeding season is over and the chicks can fly, they may not return to land again for years, until they are ready to breed themselves. 

 

Since they are flying at sea all the time and can’t rest on the surface because of their water-absorbent feathers, I wondered where do they sleep? I read that Sooty Terns have developed a way to let one side of their brain sleep for short periods of time while the other side stays alert. That doesn’t actually sound very restful, but it does seem to work, because there are lots of Sooty Terns out there flying around the oceans. The piercing call that the Sooty Terns make is described as ‘wide-a-wake’, which sounds appropriate given their sleep habits.  

 

After a while I spotted a couple of the Brown Noddies flying past just above the water line along a rocky edge of the island. I didn’t see their nests, as those were probably on the south side of the island because they prefer the cliff ledges there.

                  

We saw only a few Brown Noddy terns, and they seemed less sociable than the Sooty Terns. 

Brown Noddies are pelagic terns as well, but don’t spend as much time flying. And they are very different looking. The Brown Noddies are chocolate brown with pale gray heads. Many other types of terns have white underbellies – maybe so they are less visible to fish as they hover up over the water. But Brown Noddies apparently stay close to the surface and sometimes even pat the water with their feet to attract small fish. In that case, their dark coloring might help camouflage them. 

 

One striking thing about the Brown Noddies is that their eyes are set close to their bills, which makes them seem like they are frowning. 

 

Even the resting faces of the Brown Noddies look angry.  

 

Supposedly these birds got their names because they nod and bow to greet each other, as part of their courtship behavior. However, the ones I saw did not seem to be very courteous. They looked like alien gangsters. 

 

These Brown Noddies might not have sorted out who was mating with whom.

I read that although the male noddies are larger than the females, both sexes can be territorial and squabble with their neighbors. It’s probably not due to lack of sleep, though. Unlike the Sooty Terns, the Brown Noddies seem to get plenty of rest, as they don’t mind setting down on the surface of the water while they are out to sea.   

 

The noddies seemed to be exchanging angry words, as well as looks. 

  

I had thought of pelagic seabirds as solitary voyagers, traveling alone for years over the vast ocean – wandering lonely in the clouds. But apparently both these types of terns are sociable at sea, fishing in mixed flocks, and using their loud calls to keep in touch with their group members.  

 

I was grateful to Steve Prosterman for offering me a chance to meet these birds while they were settled down close to shore. Maybe one day I will go on a long sea voyage myself where I could see some of them out flying around in the open ocean.  

Tropicbirds, Terns and Other Seabirds Greeted Students on a V. I. Audubon Boat Trip

 

Red-billed Tropicbird (left) and White-tailed Tropicbird

 

Students from Gifft Hill School’s third and ninth grades recently went out on a boat to look for nesting seabirds on some of the small islands north of St. John. The trip was sponsored by the V. I. Audubon Society as part of a bird study program designed to help build awareness about the wide variety of birds in the Virgin Islands, and the importance of protecting them.

 

 

At this time of year, many different seabirds come from around the Caribbean to the small offshore islands in this area so they can mate and nest in secluded spaces.

 

Heading northeast out of Cruz Bay, the students, and accompanying teachers and Audubon Society members, were quickly rewarded with views of a group of about ten White-billed Tropicbirds flying back and forth from nests on the cliffs at Congo Cay. There were also a few of the somewhat larger Red-billed Tropicbirds (17-20 inches compared to 14-15 inches for white-tailed ones).  

White-tailed tropicbird

Tropicbirds are pelagic, which means they spend most of their time flying around over open water. The tropicbirds stay in warmer ocean areas, catching fish far from land, then resting on the surface of the water. They are usually alone or in pairs, not large flocks. 

 

Sometimes sailors will see tropicbirds hovering over boats, maybe watching for fish that rise to the surface due to boat-related activity. They are rarely seen by people on land, though, and sometimes seem mythical to non-sailors. 

 

However, since tropicbirds can’t nest out on the surface of the sea, they seek out isolated rocky cliffs when it is time to breed. They come together in small groups to find mates and make their nests, and then they are more easily visible. However, you generally still need a boat to go see them. 

 

Tropicbird nesting is not limited to a specific month, but usually takes place at times when there are plenty of small fish available in the water nearby. I saw some nesting near Congo in December, and now others nesting in May.

Red-billed Tropicbird by nest in cliff

 

The tropicbirds’ long, white ribbon-like tails, or streamers, are lovely and most distinctive. Yet they don’t seem very practical. It turns out that, like many impressive bird traits, they are primarily designed to attract a mate. During courtship, the tropicbirds engage in aerial courtship displays, circling around each other and alluringly swinging their tails from side to side. 

 

After the courtship and mating period, they find a spot on a rocky ledge, or in a crevice, for a minimalist nest. Invasive, non-native rats are now living on many of the offshore cays, and they will eat unprotected eggs, so the seabirds are now facing new dangers. The steepest, slippery cliff faces may be the safest. 

 

There is usually only one tropicbird egg, and it is incubated mostly by the female. She sits with it for about six weeks while the male brings her food. When the chick hatches, both parents bring food for it as it grows. Then after about three months the chick is ready to leave the nest and start its pelagic, ocean wandering life. 

 

Nearby, on the imposing cliffs of Carvel (or Carval) Rock, about 20 pairs of smaller Bridled Terns were nesting. These birds get their name from the dark lines reaching from their mouths to the backs of their heads, like a bridle used to control a riding horse. These terns are also pelagic and widespread in warm ocean waters. They tend to stay somewhat closer to shore than tropicbirds, though, and like to find something floating to sit on, like mats of the sargassum seaweed, rather than settling down right on top of the water. 

 

Bridled Terns

The bridled terns have longish forked tails, and their courtship involves some high flight displays, but their moves are not as dramatic as the tropicbirds. A male will fly by offering a fish to entice the females, and there is also a ground-level dance involving bowing and strutting.

 

The female will produce only one egg, and place it on or under a ledge, without building a substantial nest. Both parents will guard the egg, and then feed and protect the chick from predators, which seems like a strategy that increases the likelihood of its survival.  

 

Bridled Tern soaring

 

Laughing Gulls also come to some of the offshore islands in the Virgin Islands to nest during the summer, but they are not welcome near the terns. Gulls will eat the terns’ eggs or chicks if they get a chance, and will also chase adult terns and try to grab fish out of their mouths. The gulls also frequently gather in groups along the beaches, and will eagerly steal food from people as well.  

 

Laughing Gulls

 

Royal Terns will also steal fish from other, smaller terns. They are more commonly visible from land as they like to sit on buoys in the harbor. They have black caps when breeding, and there are a few of them that nest in this area. 

 

Royal Tern

 

From the boat, we also saw a couple of Oystercatchers on Rata Cay between St. John and Lovango. Oystercatchers have long, carrot-like bills that give them a cartoonish appearance. They actually stay through the year in some areas in the Virgin Islands, and are almost always seen in pairs. They nest on beaches in remote parts of the larger islands, as well as on small cays close to shore. The parents will take turns sitting on the nest and bringing food, which often includes local whelks that they break open with their strong bills.  

 

Oystercatcher

 

The students on the trip learned about the importance of preserving isolated offshore spaces for birds so they can continue to nest and reproduce, and be as free as possible from invasive predators and human disturbance. Because seabirds are not just fun to watch. Their widespread migrations, fishing, and nesting activities are critical for maintaining the health of our interconnected oceans, islands and sky.   

 

At the end of the trip, the students also got to jump in the water off Lovango Cay to cool off and also take a look under the water with snorkels. A pretty great day. 

 

Kapok Trees Create a Community in a Lonely Caneel Bay Parking Lot

 

When the hurricane-damaged Caneel Bay property on St. John was opened up for limited public access, I was able to visit with some of my old friends there. I was relieved to find at least eight big kapok trees (Ceiba pentandra) in the area that used to be the employees’ parking lot. 

 

A few of the older kapoks are looking pretty gnarly now, like those ancient sculptures with missing arms. The storm winds definitely came through fiercely and reshaped them, tearing off large branches. 

This tree trunk made me think of the Bible story about Lot’s wife, who was turned into a pillar of salt for looking back, against God’s instructions. 

Many of the trees’ wounds have healed over in the isolated years following the storms, often leaving bulging scars where branches were lost. 

The thick upper branches of this tree now swirl around like a whirlwind.  

 

For me, the growths where branches seem to have broken off began to look like fanciful faces. 

Several stumps have a protruding ghostlike appearance, like weathered gargoyles on the top of a medieval building, reminding me of the time I climbed to the top of the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris.   

 

And some look quite dark and menacing, possibly threatening to hurl their seed pods down on intruders standing below in the parking lot.

 

 

A few of the tree faces are more friendly and whimsical. 

This stump reminded me of the Cheshire cat from the Alice in Wonderland story, lying in a tree and giving advice to Alice through riddles.

 

And this one seemed like an owl with thorns for eyes. 

 

On another tree, the buttress roots at the bottom seemed to have grown out like the head of a tortoise.

 

My favorite is one I used to call the 'elephant tree' because of its really wide base, which has expanded into huge gray hump. It is now battered and partially hidden behind bushes, but still thriving, producing flowers and making seed pods.

 

 

These trees are not statues, though. They are living beings – and they have definitely seen some things. I can feel their dynamic energy surrounding me when I am standing among them.

 

Since no one was able to visit the Caneel Bay property for many years after the storm, I imagine that the kapoks and other great trees appreciate that I remember them with fondness and have come back to look for them. But probably they were comfortable enough just being left alone, and are fine with the fact that hardly anyone sees them there, even now. 

 

Still, I worry about their future. Who will value these dramatic trees, I wonder, and care enough to protect them. Or will they just be knocked down, because they are old and weird looking and in the way, when the plans for redeveloping Caneel Bay as a new resort are finally implemented. 

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.