ePostcard #32: Albatrosses—Ocean Spirits
I feel I have joined a higher order of mortal,
having seen the albatross.
Robert Cushman Murphy, author, Guide to Oceanic Birds, 1940
We spent six magical weeks aboard the Spirit of Enderby exploring the seemingly boundless wilderness of the Southern Ocean, from the Subantarctic Islands to the East Antarctic. This was my first “‘real” introduction to the wind-driven world that albatrosses call their own. To set the stage, imagine the breathtaking reality of our ship being held offshore the East Antarctic (with no way to safely anchor) for nearly 3 days by 190 mph (300 km/h) katabatic winds roaring down the vast fetch of the Antarctic’s Continental Ice Sheet. Our skilled Russian captain ran a parallel GPS line (back and forth) well off the coast, night and day, until our expedition leader determined that it might be “safe” enough to attempt a Zodiac landing ashore. Our destination was the historic Mawson’s Hut, where the Australian Historical Society restoration team was awaiting their holiday mail and several cases of beer. As a leader, I was in the bow of the first Zodiac to attempt an Antarctic landing, where we would need to scale a wall of snow that the Australians had prepped for our arrival by cutting steps, which we would climb with the aid of ropes strung from two ice axes. Perched in the bow (the “active” hot seat) of the inflatable, I ended up breaking a couple ribs when the Zodiac flew off a giant wave crest and dropped into the trough. Yes, I was still holding on! We landed against all odds, to the cheers of the Australians, delivering the much anticipated mail and beer. Within an hour of our arrival onshore a blizzard drove us right back to the ship. The albatrosses (I swear) seemed at home in those rogue waves! Although everything we saw and experienced on that entire trip was transformative, my total immersion in the windy world that albatrosses inhabit everyday changed the way I think about oceans forever.
The Campbell albatross, formerly thought to be the same species as the black-browed albatross (shown above), shares the distinctive eyeshadow patterning and many of the fascinating behaviors of its relatives living in the subantarctic regions of the Atlantic (South Georgia and the Falklands) and the Indian Ocean. How do you tell the difference between the two species? Superficially, where you see them geographically is helpful, of course, but what grabs your attention when you get a close look with your binoculars is their riveting topaz-hued irises (as opposed to the ebony-black irises of the black-browed). The Campbell albatross breeds only on the northern end of the island, and nowhere else. The number of pairs fluctuates greatly each year, with as many as 20,000 pairs coexisting in tightly-packed, cliffside colonies on the island’s North Cape.
We didn’t have the gift of observing mated pairs in their nesting colony because we were early in the season and leaving them in peace. Animated and always curious, these albatross pairs engage in elaborate, loud courtship rituals that involve gaping with an open bill, nodding, bill touching, fake preening and tail fanning. The background “musical” score includes high-pitched wails, yapping and low grunting. Campbell albatross nests are similar to those of the black-browed albatrosses that I’ve observed in the Falkland Islands, with neatly-spaced and symmetrical, adobe-built pedestals sitting atop a quagmire of trampled peat. When the chicks hatch, the fluffy gray nestlings will be snug in their nest bowl and will be closely guarded by both parents against predators like skuas. Like many albatrosses, the Campbell albatrosses join ships at sea and it is sheer magic to try and photograph their splendid close-quartering flight through the wave troughs.
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It’s amazing to realize these birds are built to be comfortable in such harsh conditions.
I remember my husband, a WWII sailor in the southern Pacific, describing the antics of these birds around their ship. Thanks
The first and the last picture got me. And after that story I am glad that you are still alive.
The Russian captain and crew actually got that radio report on the winds from the Australian’s Antarctic Base installation and they reported it to us as record-breaking and extremely dangerous. Rodney Russ, the owner of Heritage Expeditions and the bullish expedition leader driving the Zodiac, positioned me and another leader at the bow and had the rest of the 5 passengers further aft. Despite the fact that I was in a “tripod” safety position, I was thrown upward by the force and crashed down on the aluminum step/storage hatch. The only reason that I didn’t break more ribs than the two I did was that the impact of my crash was “cushioned” by my large expedition pack (with both my Nikon FM200 and my Nikon D300 and all their lenses). The other expedition leader put his hand on my head (I was face down crying on the bottom of the Zodiac) to see if I was conscious. Suddenly, we were at the ice edge and I had no choice but to help John stabilize us with the ropes. I was first up the ice steps, got hugged, and collapsed (from pain) in the snow. The Australians had a medic on their team who took me aside and guessed that I’d broken ribs. I had to stay ashore (about an hour) until we were forced by the blizzard to return to the ship. The New Zealand doctor on board examined me in the infirmary to be as certain as he could be that rib displacement would not cause lung or organ puncture. He taped my chest after positioning a bit of splinting (which they don’t normally do with rib fractures) and then asked if I had pain meds with me. Oh yes, I said, I save opioids left over from previous surgeries in my first aid supplies. He suggested that I start by taking one every 4 hours and enjoy a glass of wine with dinner that night. The next day (with brilliant sunshine) we spent 12 hours ashore! I was well-medicated (buzzed) and had lightened my load by taking only the D300, the 70-200 telephoto and my binoculars! My group of 16 Cloud Ridge folks were the last to return to the ship at about 12:30 am!!! The doctor went ashore as well and checked in a few times to be sure I was smiling.
Also, you are surely made of iron, that’s insane! I’m glad you were okay.
Incredible! It seems like breaking ribs is a bit of a Benedict family tradition, isn’t it? I’ve so enjoyed these daily pictures and stories. I’m studying for my comprehensive exams and each glimpse into a different species or ecosystem has really inspired me to think more about the ecological and evolutionary concepts I’m studying in a new way. Thank you!
Wow, what stunning pictures. I’m not sure that seeing the albatross made me a ‘higher level of mortal’, but it was certainly transformative. Your pictures capture the power of the sea and the elegance of the albatross in a way that put me right back among them. Look at those wings – a study in airfoil design.
This made for an enthralling read (by all of us this evening!) …part natural history lesson, part adventure story. You have amazing fortitude Audrey!!