Blog by Rebecca Cheape

CHASING STORM PETRELS: A JOURNEY TO THE FAROE ISLANDS

By Rebecca Cheape

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Rebecca Cheape

I had been dreaming of a rugged island seabird adventure for far too long. So, when I discovered the incredible opportunity to assist Ben Porter with his first year of Storm Petrel PhD fieldwork, I immediately sent him an enthusiastic email. A few months later, I was on an unforgettable "stormie" adventure in the Land of Maybe (I'll explain what I mean by that later in the blog).

A speedy 1.5-hour flight from Edinburgh Airport brought me to the quaint, grass-covered roofs of Torshavn, the capital and largest town of the Faroe Islands, named after the Norse god of thunder, Thor. This town offers stunning views of rugged cliffs and rolling hills. I was in awe of everything—from the unique architecture to the craggy landscape and even the Faroese Sheep. I arrived in the dark after a delayed flight, so I couldn’t see much on the drive to the BirdLife office accommodation that night. Little did I know, I'd be in for a real Nordic treat the next morning when I stepped outside and into the town.

The first day started early, with me, Ben, and Ewan catching a pleasant 30-minute ferry ride across to Nolsoy, the island where our fieldwork was based and where the European Storm Petrel colony is situated. The ferry crossing gave us an excellent opportunity for some seabird watching and potential migrant species sightings. Looking back, it seemed like we all rushed to the top deck of the ferry on every crossing, eagerly keeping our eyes peeled for Orcas (which, sadly, we never saw). However, there was always a guaranteed flock of Eiders, and occasionally a rogue Storm Petrel. It was a joy to glimpse these delicate seabirds in daylight, especially marvelling at how they use their tiny webbed feet to patter across the water, almost like they’re running on it while foraging. As we made our way across the water to Nolsoy, the crisp, salty sea breeze was invigorating, while the eerie cries of gulls and fulmars echoed in the distance, providing a fitting welcome to the island.

Stepping off of the ferry arriving in Nólsoy, felt like entering a completely different world. The air was fresh and cool, carrying the scent of the sea and earth, while the rugged cliffs and rolling green hills were a sight to behold. The quaint island village, with its colourful houses dotting the landscape, exuded a peaceful charm that instantly made me feel both excited and at home. The sense of isolation and beauty of the surroundings left me in awe, and I couldn’t wait to explore every corner of this unique place and the wildlife it is home to.

As I wandered through the charming street of Nólsoy with my luggage, I was greeted by the sight of a flock of Faroese Starlings, their glossy feathers catching the light as they darted through the air. They seemed to be perfectly at home in the town, weaving between the colourful houses and perching on the grass roof edges and garden bushes. Their chatter and occasional swoop to the ground added a lively, almost musical backdrop to the peaceful, coastal town. It felt like a beautiful reminder of how wildlife and people coexist here, and in that moment, the birds’ presence made Nolsoy feel even more magical, and I knew I would be perfectly okay here.

The accommodation was a cosy little cottage, kindly offered by the locals for Ben and his team to use as a field station. It was a wonderful upgrade from camping for Ben and Ewan (though they did enjoy camping for a bit, before their tents became drenched), it provided a warm and inviting space to relax after a full day of fieldwork. The cottage became our little haven, with its rustic Nordic charm and homely comforts, offering the perfect retreat amidst the stunning landscape of Nólsoy, where we could watch funky cloud inversions form over the cliffs from the comfort of a sofa and with a mug of coffee in hand. It was the ideal base, where we could unwind, prepare a meal, and enjoy the tranquil atmosphere of the island after a busy day outdoors. It was also useful to have a dry storage room to make sure the GPS logger and camera equipment were in top form to use for the Stormies.

The first few days were all about getting familiar with Nolsoy and its unique charm and landscape. I spent time exploring the island, taking in the breath-taking scenery, and familiarising myself with the terrain, as it was very rocky underfoot. The main highlights were walking up to the northern end of the island, where the artificial nest boxes are located and where I first participated in a nest count of the European Storm Petrel colony. As I made my way up the rugged path, I could feel the excitement building, knowing that I was about to contribute in a critical part of the research. The island's calmness, combined with the anticipation of what lay ahead, made it a perfect introduction to the fieldwork and the start of a really memorable experience for me.

Daily nest checks involved walking alongside the cliffs, so I was greeted by pairs upon pairs of Fulmars gliding effortlessly in the breeze, their distinctive calls filling the air, what an amazing Seabird. The skies above were alive with the presence of Skuas and Great Skuas, their arduous silhouettes cutting through the sky with purpose. A few Puffins, surprisingly still around their nests in late August, added a splash of colour to the scene amongst a grey boulder background, their comical appearance and a reminder of the island's thriving seabird life. Oh and of course, there were the Ravens – numerous and bold (as usual), their deep, resonant calls echoing and mixing with seabird cries as they soared overhead, adding to the wild, untamed atmosphere of Nolsoy. It felt as though the island's cliffs were alive with the hum of nature, each bird playing its part on this remote, rugged landscape.

Then there were the Faroese Sheep… As I hiked across the island checking nest boxes with the others, I couldn't help but smile at the sight of Faroese sheep dotting the landscape. These fluffy creatures seemed to be everywhere – just casually grazing on the steep slopes, perched on the craggy cliffs, or even peering out from behind rocks and some even falling off rocks. Their inquisitive faces and somewhat comical frolics as they wandered aimlessly added a light-hearted charisma to the island. Most times, I found myself giggling at the way they'd calmly stare at me, as if they were the true inhabitants of this rugged place, and I was merely a visitor passing through. The Faroese sheep with their stubborn personalities and cute faces, brought an unexpected but charming sense of humour to Nólsoy. We always brought crispbreads and raw turnips (Faroes have the best turnips btw, ask Ben) out as snacks to fuel for the nest walk checks, and guess what… the sheep surely did follow us.

I was introduced to Jens-Kjeld Jensen, who is warmly known as ‘the Birdman’ of the Faroes, and Jógvan Thomsen, two individuals who have played a pivotal role in the development of Ben's research on Nólsoy. Jens-Kjeld, in particular, has left a permanent mark on the PhD study by installing over 70 unique nest boxes for Storm Petrels across the colony, which is incredible and not an easy task at all. The nest boxes are unlike any others I’ve come across as they are ingeniously and thoughtfully designed. Each one contains a section of corrugated drainage pipe, a 1-2 metre entrance tunnel, and all of which is buried beneath layers of grass, turf, soil and rock. This innovative design was inspired by Jens-Kjeld’s knowledge of natural Storm Petrel nesting sites on Nólsoy. The nests are doing a great job, as over 35 of the boxes are inhabited by Storm Petrels, which is incredible due to the scale of the project and difficultly installing such nest box types in rocky terrain. I was very happy to be on the same Island as these two local men, as they are so knowledgeable about bird life on Nólsoy and beyond, in particular the Storm Petrels and Manx Shearwater.

I was lively with excitement as I geared up for my first night out ringing adult Storm Petrels. Making sure that my head torch was fully charged (very important), a hot drink was prepared, and layers upon layers of clothing were on. I set off into the dark with the others as well as Jógvan, impatient to experience the magic of the Island at night. The terrain was still unfamiliar to me, and navigating the moss-covered boulders was tricky, but somehow, I managed not to slip - though every step felt like a careful adventure. The dim beam from my head torch barely illuminated the path ahead, but the sounds around me were anything but faint. My ears were filled with the squabbling calls of Storm Petrels zooming through the air, some even flying straight past me or brushing against my head. I’d never heard the bustling energy of these birds so close or at all before, especially in what is considered the largest colony in Europe. The whole experience felt so surreal, it was like moving into another world where I was surrounded by the constant call of these mysterious seabirds. It was a night that made everything feel incredibly magical.

Oh and if you aren’t familiar with the smell of Storm Petrels, then let me tell you - it is something truly memorable. As I wandered through the busy colony, the scent hit my nose (it is a difficult smell to explain, like most smells), it was a mix of the sea, soil, and something definitely wild. The birds themselves, with their oil-coated feathers, gave off a distinctive, almost herby-musky aroma that merged with the salty air. It was very pleasant and it added to the whole experience, making it feel even more magical. Together with the musky smell, with the sounds of their calls and the spectacle of them whizzing through the dark sky, really made the whole escapade feel even more surreal, like I had truly entered another realm. Every evening returning from ringing in the colony, I noticed that my clothes lingered of storm petrel musk, which was surely 10x better than smelling of seabird vomit - the usual circumstance for most seabird fieldworkers. I did take some of their feathers home with me, so that I could have a constant reminder of their smell to transport me back.

Anyway, back to the Storm Petrel ringing… The field team consisted of myself, Ben, Ewan, Phoebe, and Felixa. Every evening, we went out with Jógvan, who was incredibly quick and skilled at extracting the storm petrels from the nets. His expertise was essential because storm petrels can get their wings badly tangled in the nets, which can sometimes be a challenging task to overcome. We had to be especially careful with their wings to avoid injury while handling them. Though we were all mindful of this and managed to extract all the storm petrels without any damage, the number we caught often depended on the moon. On nights when the full moon lit up the sky, there were fewer Stormies, so it was better to go out on non-full moon nights or at least on overcast evenings to dull the moonlight. We’d catch about 300–500 most evening, so it was intense, along with taking their body measurements. Sometimes, during quieter periods when the Storm Petrels were darting about foraging, I remember feeling exhausted, especially since it was around 1 a.m. I would rest on a boulder, looking up at the sky and watching the bat-like Storm Petrels buzz through the air. During those moments, I’d catch a glimpse of an aurora and with the night sky so clear, we could see so many stars and planets. It was incredible.

Fieldwork also involved setting up nest cameras in some boxes to monitor various stages of the storm petrels’ life cycle, including chick rearing, chick provisioning, chick hatching, and the behaviours of the two adult storm petrels in the nest. One of the most exciting tasks was successfully attaching GPS loggers to the tail feathers of adult incubating storm petrels. This was quite tricky since the GPS logger was so small—about the size of a teaspoon. The purpose of attaching the logger was to track where specific individuals were traveling, how far they were going, and for how long. The first GPS tag we retrieved provided some fascinating data. These very small and delicate birds were traveling over 100 miles and more, sometimes staying out at sea for up to a week foraging before making the journey back. Interestingly, they would sometimes excuse certain zones along the way, adding another layer of mystery to their foraging patterns.

Sometimes, we had ‘free time’ to explore other parts of the Faroe Islands, like visiting Koltur Island. No one lives there permanently, but it’s where the nature environment field office and accommodation are based. To get there, we had to take an adventurous, quick 5-minute helicopter ride from Tórshavn to Koltur - it was super fun and felt a bit like something out of a James Bond movie. Our accommodation was right in the middle of the island, so when the Storm Petrels were out foraging, we were fully immersed in their calls-this time, from the comfort of a bed instead of resting on a boulder like we did during fieldwork. The island offered an even more peaceful escape, allowing us to experience the rugged beauty of the archipelago beyond our usual tasks. Koltur Island is home to another colony of Storm Petrels, though their nesting habits differ from those we were studying. These birds nest in natural crevices in the walls of the island, similar to the storm petrels on Mousa, Shetland. The sight of these birds tucked into their hidden nooks felt like stepping into another world, where nature’s rhythm played out quietly, away from the bustle of our daily fieldwork. It was a humbling experience to witness this other side of Storm Petrel life, and it gave me a deeper appreciation for how adaptable and resilient these little birds are. We came to Koltur with Jón Aldará, who works for the nature environment department and knew exactly where the storm petrels were nesting. The main reason for visiting Koltur was to better understand the differences between the colony here and the one on Nólsoy. Bearing in mind that the storm petrels on Koltur nest naturally in crevices, unlike those on Nólsoy, we noticed some interesting findings. When we found chicks on Koltur, it was clear they were growing at a faster rate compared to those on Nólsoy. Was this due to better foraging sites nearby, meaning the adults didn’t have to forage as far? These were all good questions to explore. While on Koltur, we attached GPS loggers and ringed some of the storm petrels. We even retrieved a tag from a pair of adults, revealing that they were traveling in completely different directions compared to the Nólsoy colony. So unpredictable.

My time doing fieldwork in the Faroe Islands was truly transformative, solidifying my passion for seabird conservation research. The unique opportunity to study the incredible Storm Petrels in their natural habitats deepened my appreciation for these resilient birds and their vital role in the ecosystem. The storm petrels hold a special place in my heart, and beyond the birds, the Faroe Islands themselves were an awe-inspiring environment - rugged, remote, and bursting with natural beauty. The unpredictable weather, a defining characteristic of the Faroe Islands, is why it’s often called the “Land of Maybe.” One moment, the sky could be clear and calm, and the next, it could be swirling with fog and rain. But it’s this very unpredictability that makes the islands so magical. What made the experience even more special were the incredible friends I made along the way (you know who you are!). The bonds I formed with my fellow field team researchers will last a lifetime, and I will always treasure the shared adventures and memories we created together. A special thanks to Ben, who was always optimistic and cheery every single day - it made all the difference. The Faroe Islands, specifically Nólsoy, will forever hold a special place in my heart, and I will be back, for sure. The skills I learned there will continue to guide me as I pursue a career in seabird conservation. So, for now, I will be in the Faroe Islands only in my dreams, until I return again. Oh, and read Ben’s blog for all things Storm Petrel.