Laura Erickson's For the Birds

I’m recording this from my noisy hotel in Key West because in a few minutes I’m headed for the airport for my flight to Guyana, so I didn’t have time to mix in any bird calls.

In the last week of May in 1997, Russ and I took the ferry from Key West in Florida to one of the most remote and least visited of all our national parks, Dry Tortugas. When we were driving through the Keys, I saw my first Magnificent Frigatebirds and Sandwich Terns. The boat didn’t have a naturalist on board to show people birds, but on the four- or five-hour ride I picked out a few Roseate Terns, Audubon’s Shearwaters, and Masked Boobies. On Garden Key, where Fort Jefferson is, I picked out a few Bridled Terns, who seemed to keep themselves separate from the tens of thousands of similar-looking Sooty Terns. I tried but couldn’t pick out a Black Noddy among so many thousand Brown Noddies, but it was fun trying.

The parade ground within the walls of Fort Jefferson held a recirculating fountain where, during the height of migration, a wonderful assortment of warblers would come for drinking water—the Dry Tortugas are called dry because there is no natural supply of fresh water. But by the last week of May, few migrating songbirds remained, so I didn’t see much at the fountain.

The Dry Tortugas is the only place in the United States where Magnificent Frigatebirds breed. Their effortless flight—I’ve watched them soaring without flapping at all for many minutes—is, well, magnificent. Frigatebirds are kleptoparasites who spend their lives at sea harassing other seabirds to steal their food, whether it’s a fish carried by a tern or the semi-digested contents of a bigger bird’s stomach—frigatebirds are so huge and aggressive that vomit. But for a bird so limited to ocean waters, frigatebirds can’t swim and their feathers are wettable, meaning if they do get into the water, they’ll never get out.

That’s ironically remarkable, but the most remarkable thing about the Magnificent Frigatebird is the male’s inflatable throat pouch, like a huge red balloon. This being very late in their breeding season, I saw only a couple of males with the throat slightly ballooned, and instead of vivid red, it was more of a flesh-tone.

The ferry didn’t get close to where the breeding colony was on Bush or Long Key, and went past Hospital Key where the Masked Boobies were at a rapid pace and a bit too far to really enjoy, but I could hardly be disappointed—I’d never even seen a frigatebird or Masked Booby before this—but as utterly delighted as I was with everything about this trip, I sorely wanted to go back and spend more time at this amazing place.

Since then, the closest I’ve come to seeing a frigatebird’s throat pouch was when one got blown into Ithaca, New York, on September 21, 2008, during an Atlantic hurricane, and was found dead the following morning. I was working at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology at the time—people from the Lab retrieved the carcass, so I got to take a few tragic photos. The pouch was of course deflated and mostly hidden, but I got a good look and some photos. It was so sad seeing such a glorious specimen dead.

I’ve been rather obsessed with seeing a nesting frigatebird, and two years ago when I went on the Victor Emanual Nature Tour to South Florida and the Keys, I badly wanted to go on the Dry Tortugas trip extension but it was filled up, as it was last spring—I was on the waiting list both times, but no one cancelled. Last February I signed up to go on this year’s trip, and wow—it was better than I’d hoped or dreamed.

I returned last night (April 30), but am already headed out in a little while for Guyana, so haven’t had a chance to deal with photos, but I got great closeup looks at Masked Boobies, saw their nesting colony—which just moved, this year, to East Key—saw the bazillions of nesting Brown Noddies and Sooty Terns on Garden Key with bazillions of frigatebirds soaring above, and we rode in a dinghy to the frigatebird nesting colony where I finally saw and got photos of a few males’ fully inflated pouches. One Red-footed Booby was perched atop one of the tallest trees right with the frigatebirds. Our guide, Raphael Galvez—one of the best possible bird guides—managed to locate one lone Black Noddy. The entire parade ground within the walls of the fort was covered with warblers and lots of Sharp-shinned Hawks and Merlins, as well as several other birds.

None of these birds on this trip were lifers, but two were new for my ABA Continental List—I’d seen both Red-footed Boobies and Black Noddies in Hawaiʻi. And Rafael took me along with his group to Fort Zachary Taylor where we found a bird that was a lifer for me—a Bahama Mockingbird. I don’t have time to sort photos because I have to be out of my hotel in a few minutes to head to Guyana, but after I get home May 11, I’ll be posting bazillions of pictures from both trips.