This past summer the Cooper Island field camp was thankful to have a return visit from photographer Joe McNally. Joe has been taking photos longer than I have been studying Cooper Island Black Guillemots and his website shows both the quality and scope of his work. His visit in 2001 took place before we had a cabin and was for the purpose of obtaining photos for a New York Times Magazine story being written by Darcy Frey, who had visited the island earlier that year. Joe and I had a great time during his week on the island and have stayed in touch ever since.
In January 2002 I opened the Sunday NY Times to find the magazine cover was a photo Joe had taken of me standing just off Cooper Island’s North Beach in early July. Joe’s cover photo and Frey’s 12-thousand word story gave national prominence to what had been an obscure 27- year study of an Arctic seabird. More importantly, a national story about climate change was a rarity in 2002 and I have been told by many people that the article and Joe’s photo was what first made them aware of the realities of global warming.
Whenever Joe and I have chatted since his first visit, I have mentioned that should he return to Cooper Island, he would not find the island surrounded by ice as he did in 2001. During the almost two decades since his visit the pace of Arctic climate change has greatly increased as the region continues to warm. The loss of sea ice has resulted in the high mortality of Black Guillemot nestlings, as parents are unable to find their preferred ice-associated prey, and regular visits by polar bears, stranded on land as their sea ice habitat melts.
I have always hoped Joe might return to Cooper Island but told him that if he were to return and try to retake the cover photo I would now be standing in water and not on sea ice. Given Joe’s work schedule and international prominence I never thought he would be able to work in a return visit, but with the help of Nikon he arrived by boat in early July last summer bringing a film crew to document his attempt to retake the 2001 image of me standing on the ice.
The 2001 and 2019 images tell the story of Arctic climate change as much as my 45-year database on an Arctic seabird. Joe and his crew made a video documenting his recent visit and our efforts to get the 2019 image. The video has some great aerial shots of the island and also documents why Joe is such a great photographer. He is able to ignore the frigid waters sloshing into his boots while taking the shot of me standing in the ocean wearing hip-boots.
Can’t thank Joe enough for his continuing friendship and interest in my work. 18 years after his first visit he is still helping me tell the story of the Cooper Island Black Guillemots and the increasingly warmer Arctic.
The 2019 winter edition of the World Wildlife Fund’s Arctic magazine, The Circle, features findings from the Cooper Island Black Guillemot study. The entire issue is well worth reading with articles on how the warming Arctic is affecting indigenous people, birds and mammals, and tundra vegetation.
The WWF website has additional text and links not available in the PDF of the magazine with the Cooper Island coverage available here.
Thanks to our participation in the international Sentinels of Sea Ice (SENSEI) project, this summer the Cooper Island field camp was visited by Pierre-Loup Jan, the post-doc analyzing the Cooper Island demographic data set. After 44 years of sharing the island with a seabird with a French name (“guillemot” is the diminutive of Guillaume – the French version of “William) it was fitting to have a French researcher on the island with me.
We are very fortunate to have Pierre-Loup and his colleagues in France collaborating with us. He was a welcome addition to the 2019 field camp as he provided assistance, insights and humor during a summer when all were needed. His musings about his time on the island are below.
My impressions and observations of Cooper Island
I remember that the first day I met George, I was immediately impressed by his massive, long-term data. It was in the French countryside, in a wildlife biology lab in the center of France with so few towns around that you could consider it as remote as Cooper Island, only with a bathroom. This place was about to become my home but I was still exploring it at that time, freshly hired as a modeler to investigate the population dynamic of black guillemots. To be fair, the data by itself was not as impressive as the story behind it, and I was really excited to meet someone like George, who spent three months a year, for the past 45 years, in an island of the Arctic Ocean. I was even more excited when the same man invited me to come with him the next field season, which is the kind of opportunity you don’t have every day when you are a modeler (which means I spend most of my time processing tables of data to obtain neat plots and curves on a computer).
Long story short, 9 months, two trains, three planes, and one boat later, I set my foot on Cooper Island, ecstatic to see with my own eyes the colony but also anxious about its health: sea ice retreat had reached a level never seen before two years, and I wasn’t sure how the birds would handle this summer.
Saying that the Cooper Island colony is one of the most beautiful guillemot colonies would be an obvious lie: it’s totally flat, for some reason some guy left black and grey suitcases everywhere, and it seems that previous buildings were just blown up by the navy before they left. However, Cooper Island is undoubtedly one of the best colonies to observe and understand the lifestyle of marine birds. I had read about the birds and, of course, discussed a lot about them with George before coming to the island. But nothing can beat the fact of seeing them and, instead of being lost in a complex and messy aggregate of rocks and cavities, even someone as unfamiliar to fieldwork as me could easily distinguish each nest, which were like many little houses with parents coming back after fishing. And with that, everything I was told about their behavior and all of the data I had been seeing on my computer screen made much more sense to me. I could directly observe with my own eyes the nest fidelity of the couple, the queuing birds waiting for an opportunity, the feeding of chicks and the way their weights change while growing.
I hope that, at this
point of the story, you don’t perceive me to be a geeky scientist spending his
days looking at bird data on a computer. Nothing could be more wrong, because I
also look at climate data. Particularly sea ice cover, giving the utmost
importance of this area for the feeding of black guillemot. Unfortunately, I
couldn’t observe it with my own eyes: the ocean around the island was
completely ice free. Liquid water all around the island, as far as the eye can
see, very different to some of the early pictures George took from the island.
But data doesn’t lie, and the current sea ice cover dynamic made me expect
this, the same way I expected what would happen during the period of chick
feeding: breeders were not able to feed their chicks appropriately, and 75% of
them died of starvation while I was monitoring them with George. It was truly
heartbreaking to open a nest box just to find the bodies of chicks that could
not be fed in time. Living this experience definitely strengthened my resolve
to show how climate change affects wildlife. The long-term existence of this
colony seems more and more uncertain every year, but at least studying them
gives us the best opportunity to understand, warn, educate, and hopefully
prevent what is planned to be the most massive lost in biodiversity since humans
first wandered the earth.
Coming to Cooper Island was not just beneficial for my work: it was also an astounding experience. The island was way bigger than what I thought: I guess it is always complicated to appreciate distance and area when looking at maps and pictures. I kind of expected it to be limited to the guillemot colony, but this gravel bar in the middle of the arctic ocean has so much more to give! I was amazed by the diversity of birds I was able to see there, and took as many pictures as I could to be sure to make my ornithologist colleagues jealous (before asking them the names of the bird species). Of course, birds are not my #1 bragging material: I was welcomed by the sight of polar bears on the first morning, and had the pleasure to see three more of these animals during my stay. The size of those majestic beasts was breathtaking and, unlike my companions on the island, I couldn’t wait to see the next one. One could say that looking at them walking along the beach at a safe distance behind an electrical fence is not really bragging material, but It all depends on how you tell the story.
The island being bigger also means that It was not all sands and rock, and I was surprised to find a wide area of tundra on it. I really enjoyed walking in this peaceful green place which made me think how the very first terrestrial landscape probably looked. I spent several hours on the tundra patch, looking at mosses and grasses that grew under the arctic climatic condition, surviving on the few nutrients they could get on this isolated island. As the famous Dr. Ian Malcolm would say: “Life finds a way”.
Living on the island comes with its challenges of course, and the wind and rain doesn’t make it any easier. Fortunately, George’s hospitality and companionship make up for it, and the hot drinks and warm meals that waited for us in the cabin made the fieldwork bearable under any weather. Meals and cocoa breaks (I don’t drink coffee) were also great opportunities to share stories with people on the island, and gave me the chance to spend time with truly inspiring people, not only George but also Catherine Smith and Katie Morrison, who are doing an amazing work with the Friends of Cooper Island nonprofit, and Maria Coryell-Martin, an expeditionary artist that produced exceptional drawings of the island wildlife and landscape. The downside of those times were the occasional harassment by George, who liked particularly to make jokes about me being a youngster and a Frenchman. Of course, I had the courtesy to let it slide without responding: He is cranky, like most old people, and at times can lack tact, as many Americans do. Joking aside, interacting with these people added a human dimension to my travel experience, and I headed back to France with great memories in my head and new contacts on my phone. I will now do my best to make the most of it for what comes next. As they say in France :
“George ne parle pas le français et va certainement croire que je dis du mal de lui vu que son nom est au début de la phrase. C’était vraiment une superbe expérience.”