Feeling the Fea: the 2001 Scillonian pelagic

In 2001, as an inexperienced birder who lived far inland, I decided that I needed to see some more seabirds. I had read reports from the Scillonian III pelagic trip in 2000 (see here) and was inspired. Sooty, Great and Cory’s Shearwaters, Sabine’s Gulls and European Storm Petrels were frequently seen on these all day trips from Penzance that headed south west into the Western Approaches of the Atlantic Ocean. But the Holy Grail was Wilson’s Petrel, which in recent years was being seen with increasing frequency. Not having the sort of job where I could drop everything and drive to Cornwall if the weather looked promising for seabird passage, such a trip seemed the best opportunity to maximise my chances of seeing some of the oceanic species of seabird on the British list. However, there was a downside. As the trip report from 2000 noted:

“The trip is not for the fainthearted. Many people refuse to set foot on the Scillonian fearing hours of sea-sickness for a brief moment of elation”.

Despite the warnings, I booked my place. In 2001 the Scillonian pelagic was scheduled for 12^th August. Then five weeks before the trip, on 8^th July 2001, news broke of a huge seabird event off the Scilly Isles. Bob Flood and Ashley Fisher were on their regular pelagic trip from St Marys when a pterodroma petrel was attracted to the chum slick they had dispersed behind their boat. It passed close enough to be seen extremely well and good quality photographs were taken. It was conclusively identified as a Fea’s Petrel, the first accepted British record:

Fea’s Petrel is an extremely rare seabird in British waters. Between 1950 and 2000 there had been just 21 accepted records and none of these could be identified to species level. Instead such sightings were lumped together as “Fea’s/Zino’s Petrel”. These birds are the only northern hemisphere representatives of the Soft-plumaged Petrel group of the southern hemisphere.

Thanks to the experience and skill of the observers, combined with the excellent photographs, the bird seen off Scilly in July 2001 was identified as Britain’s first ever Fea’s Petrel. For those of us waiting to head out into the Atlantic on the Scillonian III in mid-August, this generated mixed feelings. Rare seabird events are, by definition, exceptional. It felt like the big seabird moment of 2001 had happened some five weeks before I would be anywhere near the ocean.

The weekend of 11^th and 12^th August arrived and I drove down from Oxford to Penzance on the Saturday, an horrendous journey that took nearly 12 hours with the roads filled with stationary holiday traffic. I had fish and chips in Penzance then tried to have an early night at my B&B, near the docks.

It was cloudy and windy as I awoke at 4:30am and forced down some breakfast. I couldn’t quite bring myself to take some seasickness pills, even though I knew that they took 2 hours to work. It was a reflection of my inexperience with the sea that I decided that I would see how conditions were and would then take the medication as required. This was to prove a costly and traumatic decision.

I queued up in the dark and boarded the Scillonian III at 5am. We left Penzance at 5:30am and as soon as we were clear of the mainland, the extent of the swell became apparent. The wind picked up and loud crashes could be heard from the bar and dinning areas as glasses and cutlery were thrown around and smashed. I began to wonder if this was normal for a pelagic trip. After 45 minutes I was feeling terrible. Being outside and looking at the horizon did not help at all. The horizon was thrashing around all over the place as the boat crashed through the swell. Frequently we could hear a loud juddering roar as the propellers were lifted out of the water as the boat pitched violently forward. The smell of the diesel fumes nearly brought up my breakfast. I forced down some seasickness tablets with some water. The complete lack of any seabirds seemed to be upsetting some people, but I had more important things on my mind: I had turned green and I felt like I was going to die.

At 6:45 the inevitable happened. I rushed into the toilets. Every cubicle was locked and the occupant of each cubicle was lying on the floor with their legs protruding out from under the door. As the boat rolled from side to side a large slick of vomit washed from one side of the toilets to the other, coating the legs of the prostrate occupants in stomach contents. I grabbed hold of an urinal, prayed to a God that I did not previously believe to exist, and violently threw up. In a stunned state I opened my eyes slightly and to my horror I saw two, mostly undigested, seasickness tablets, smiling back at me from the urinal. I had thrown up the only two things that were going to make me feel human again.

I crawled back through the vomit lake and managed to get back to my seat, despite the ship pitching and rolling like a roller coaster. I looked out of the porthole next to me and saw my first European Storm Petrels, flying alongside the ship. Never has a British tick had so little feeling attached to it. I forced down more two seasickness tablets, then two more, just in case. I had lost all interest in birding, I was exhausted, covered in vomit and most of it was not mine. The thought occurred to me that there were 15 hours remaining before we were to dock in Penzance. I wondered how I was going to survive this experience.

Fortunately for me the only major side-effect of taking an overdose of seasickness tablets was fatigue. With a recommended dosage of 2 in 24 hours, I had taken 6 in 2 hours, although not all of these were digested. As a result, I passed out in my seat.

I am woken a little while later by a tannoy announcement: “Sabine’s Gull behind the fishing boat at 3 o’clock”. I jump to my feet, but instantly feel violently sick, so I sink back into my seat. I let the Sabine’s Gull go, feeling disappointed as it would have been my first.

By now there are people being sick everywhere. Some hunch over sick bags, some find the downwind rail of the ship. Some attempt to enter the toilets, but it resembles a scene from hell, bodies and vomit were everywhere. And yet, others are not only coping but are birding on the stern of the ship. How anyone could manage that was completely beyond me.  Very few birds were seen during the first eight hours of the trip, fortunately for me as I was incapable of getting up to see them. There was talk of this being the worst pelagic trip in British birding history.

For the next few hours I drift into and out of consciousness, sometimes sleeping, sometimes vomiting. Gradually the winds and swell recede slightly, the seasickness medication finally begins to work and I manage to eat something. Around lunchtime, I feel brave enough to go out on deck and to try to begin birding. We are now at our destination – a featureless piece of the Atlantic, known as the Wilson’s Triangle. Chumming begins, a mixture of rotting fish and fish oils are dumped from the ship, as pelagic bird species are attracted by the appalling smell. I was at the side of the boat, about half way along, reasoning that the centre of the ship moves less than the stern or bow. This position also protected me from the smell of the chum.

The chum began to work its magic. Appearing out of nowhere, bird numbers began to build up. Several hundred Gannets wheel around, plunge diving for larger pieces of chum. European Storm Petrels were everywhere, zipping and flittering over the surface of the sea. Perhaps 200 birds were present. We scanned through them in the hope of a glimpse of a Wilson’s Petrel.

A second Sabine’s Gull was called from the other side of the ship, but I didn’t make it round in time to get onto it. Then my side of the boat had a treat, a Great Shearwater did a close pass, giving fantastic views.

At just after 14:30 there was a tannoy announcement that will stay with me forever: “Soft-plumaged Petrel in the wake!”. I had no idea what this meant. All I knew was that there was a bird so rare that I had not even heard of it, somewhere behind the boat that I was standing on. Simultaneously, every single birder tried to get to the stern of the Scillonian III.

The wake behind the Scillonian III, 12^th August 2001 © Tom Bedford

If my senses were working, rather than having been dulled by sleep deprivation, eight hours of vomiting and recurrent seasickness tablet overdoses, then I would have quickly worked out that the bird following the ship was a Fea’s Petrel, one of the Soft-plumaged Petrel group. As it turned out, it was the very same bird seen from the Scilly pelagic five weeks beforehand.

I began scanning through the mass of feeding seabirds in the wake of the ship, just looking for something, anything, different. I got lucky. After ten seconds I got onto a pale grey and white seabird that, as I watched, looped up from just above the sea, wheeled up high above the horizon before skimming back down low over the sea again. I saw the dark “M” across the upperwing and the white body contrasting with the dark underwing.  And then it was gone.

© British Birds 99, August 2006,  p402.

My notes from 12th August 2001, including attempts at recording the bird’s distinctive flight pattern.

There was a moment of silence and then a spontaneous outbreak of joy and applause from those birders that had seen the Fea’s Petrel. Strangers high-fived and shook hands. Unfortunately, only about half the birders on the boat had connected with the bird. They need not have worried. Almost immediately the Fea’s Petrel was located again off the side of the ship, whereupon it proceeded to give a close fly-by down the entire starboard side. As it glided past us, just below eye level, there was complete silence on board, as everyone drunk in dream views of a dream bird. In fact, the Fea’s Petrel remained around the ship for one hour and 15 minutes, still the longest ever viewing of this species in British waters.

2 Wilson’s Petrels were then located, pretty much simultaneously at the front and rear of the boat. The tannoy announced “Wilson’s Petrel with the Soft-plumaged Petrel at 3 o’clock” and was greeted with delirious, incredulous laughter. We could not believe what was playing out in front of us. We had suffered so much, but the rewards had been incredible. At 16:30 we began our return journey. The sea was flat and the sun was shining. The horror of the morning was behind us, we all knew we had experienced something pretty special.

Calm scenes on the upper deck of the Scillonian III on the return journey © Tom Bedford

Postscript:

Just four days later, back home in Oxfordshire, Nic Hallam found a superb adult Sabine’s Gull at Farmoor, only the second record for the county. Even better, it stayed for three days and I saw it. At 25 metres range in lovely evening sunlight. Somehow, pulling back an adult Sabine’s Gull so soon after missing two from the Scillonian III pelagic just added to the magic of the Scillonian experience.

The bird seen from the Scillonian on 12th August was written up and accepted before the record of the bird from Scilly on July 8th 2001, so for a short period it was the first Fea’s Petrel for Britain:

James Lees’s account of the Scillonian III Fea’s Petrel in British Birds:

Since 2001 records of Fea’s/Zino’s Petrel have been almost annual. There were no records in 2006 and 2012, but 6 records in 2009 and 7 in 2013. Most years see just one or two accepted records: 

Contemporary pterodroma identification: Cape Verde Fea’s, Desertas Fea’s or Zino’s Petrel?

To date, there are just 6 accepted species level records of Fea’s Petrel (as opposed to the lumped Fea’s/Zino’s Petrel group):

2001 Isle of Scilly (July 8th, see above)

2001 Western Approaches (August 12th, the Scillonian III bird)

2004 Isles of Scilly

2014 Easington, Yorkshire

2014 Isles of Scilly

2015 Isles of Scilly

There is also a pending record from 2008 of a bird 10km NW of the Galway coast. It is no coincidence that 6 of these 7 records are from pelagic trips. These give a better chance of a close approach and provide the opportunity to gain photographs to allow species level identification of this difficult group. Species specific identification of Fea’s-type petrels is extremely difficult, as addressed in this article by Bob Flood:

The future? 

With Fea’s Petrel firmly on the radar of British birding community, the new pterodroma holy grail of UK seawatching is probably either Zino’s Petrel or Bermuda Petrel. The latter has already come tantalising close to Ireland, see here. Both species have tiny breeding populations and are globally endangered. There have also been some quite remarkable reports of pterodroma petrels, from much further afield. Birds bearing resemblances to Atlantic and Trindade Petrels have been reported on a number of occasions (including this year from Cornwall). There is also a well discussed bird, widely thought to be a Herald Petrel, seen from Dungeness in January 1998:

Finally, if a lucky birder finds a Fea’s-type pterodroma petrel in British waters, they must also eliminate the possibility of Soft-plumaged Petrel, after this outrageous record of a southern hemisphere pterodroma species in the high arctic. The attraction of these magnificent seabirds is partly their  ability to travel vast distances. The challenge for the lucky finder is getting adequate documentation of birds that often pass at distance and at speed. As the BBRC Herald Petrel article notes, a change in seabirding culture towards pelagic trips will help with closer views and allow better photographs to be taken. It is then just a matter of huge luck and of surviving the trip if the weather is inclement!