Where Atlantic meets Caribbean

Here at the confluence of wild Atlantic and calm Caribbean, photographer-birder Faraaz Abdool finds a frenzy of feeding birds. Here, the St Giles group of islets and rocks off the north coast of Tobago are sanctuaries for these sea-faring residents.

We departed Charlotteville under the blazing midafternoon sun, heading due north around the spit of land that marked the end of the world-famous Pirate’s Bay, also our point of departure from the turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea. The waves kicked up a bit and the water darkened substantially as we powered our twin-engine vessel “Fish Machine” over swells that seemed to become more and more well fed the further we got from mainland Tobago.  

Well into the rollicking Atlantic Ocean, even the air itself smelled different. My good friend, fellow guide and self-described old sea-dog Zolani (of Frank’s Tours) advised that we relocate ourselves from the bow to the stern, given the new conditions. He didn’t need to tell me twice, a memory of being thrown around relentlessly while seated on the bow of a small pirogue on the journey back to Cedros from Soldado Rock a few years ago is burnt in my brain. Every bone in my body was sore for a week after.

Not only the seas are unpredictable at the confluence of Caribbean and Atlantic. The weather also changes quickly, this time necessitating a direct journey back into port at full throttle. Photo by Joanne Husain

The first birds we saw were Bridled Terns, adults and recently fledged juveniles hunting the border between the two seas. This habit of theirs is crucial in separating them from another very similar bird, the Sooty Tern. Sooty Terns never follow current edges, instead opting to follow large schools of fish that get pushed to the surface by larger predators from below.

As we approached the first rocks of St Giles, I unpacked my camera and set up. Brown Boobies and a couple Red-footed Boobies of varying ages flew around our boat. Built for a life of high velocity plunge-diving, these streamlined birds powerfully cut through air just as well as they cut through water. Red-footed Boobies are the smallest member of the booby and gannet family, but don’t be misled, for they aren’t small birds by any means – their wingspans often exceed three feet. Of all the resident seabirds recorded for Tobago, this particular species exhibits the widest degree of variation in terms of plumage. Most birds have specific adult and juvenile plumages, one eventually giving way to the other as the bird matures. Red-footed Boobies on the other hand have multiple adult plumages ranging from completely brown to completely white with a couple intergrades. Although adult birds cannot change colour, they may form a mating bond with another colour morph. Many Red-footed Booby colonies aren’t evenly distributed when it comes to colour morphs, the colony on Tobago’s offshore islets is no different. Most of the Red-footed Boobies found here are either completely brown or brown with a white tail. The few all white Red-footed Boobies present cause a stir whenever they choose to make an appearance – for this colour morph most resembles its larger cousin, the gannet – after which it was named. Its Latin name “sula” is the Norwegian word for gannet.

A young Red-footed Booby makes a close pass. As the bird matures, it'll develop its adult plumage and characteristic red feet. Photo by Faraaz Abdool

A pair of Red-footed Boobies sit against a backdrop of cacti typical of the arid landscape at Saint Giles. White morph at left, white-tailed morph at right. Photo by Faraaz Abdool

Brown Noddies were also around, but my eyes were hungry for any of these birds sitting eye-level on rocks. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait too long, a couple Brown Noddies were seen sitting in the perfect position, their calmness juxtaposed against the pounding surf was something I couldn’t even dream to capture in a single photograph. While working these two, a third Brown Noddy flew in, and miraculously ended up right where my active autofocus grid was.

Slowly, we drifted closer to the edge of the rocks. Within this bay, we were sheltered from most of the prevailing winds and the birds were coming in fearlessly. Magnificent Frigatebirds and Red-footed Boobies made up the lion’s share of the population here, many of these birds were still seated on nests. White morphs shone like beacons in the blazing sun, white-tailed morphs took a little more effort to see against the rocky, cacti-strewn backdrop and brown morphs were virtually invisible save for their bright red feet.

Brown Noddies on an often-used rock. Photo by Faraaz Abdool

Three Magnificent Frigatebirds, a Brown Noddy and a Red-footed Booby follow a bait ball. Photo by Faraaz Abdool

Laughing Gulls and Brown Noddies descend on the bait ball each time it rises to within striking distance. Photo by Faraaz Abdool

We eventually rounded the island and made our way around the windward side where a prehistoric sight greeted us. Pounded by centuries of wind and surf, the rocks themselves seemed to bend backwards under this immense, invisible pressure, giving way to a much gentler gradient as opposed to the steep cliffs on the leeward side.

While bobbing around here, looking southward back at St Giles and Tobago in the distance, something was happening behind us. Frantic activity at the surface could only mean one thing – even more dramas unfolding beneath the waves. We made our way further out to where scores of seabirds had congregated, gulls, noddies, boobies, terns and frigatebirds all jostled for position as a frightened school of baitfish huddled to the surface, presumably being attacked from below by some predators unseen by us.

By now, we were well in the open, with nothing buffering the elements. Our captain kept the engines on to allow us to simply stay in the same place, as the bait-ball shifted position around us. Tracking this mixed flock of seabirds was challenging as they periodically vanished and reappeared as the ocean heaved.

After getting lost in the absolute grandeur of being in the presence of one of nature’s greatest shows, we looked up and saw that the channel was about to be changed – a massive wall of dark grey clouds had materialized in the east and was bearing down on us, riding the unbroken wind currents across the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean. Although we initially had planned on visiting the iconic London Bridge Rock, the captain turned us on a direct course back into Charlotteville at full speed – and not a moment too soon, for once we threw our bags into our car, the first droplets of rain began to fall. Gradually, it got heavier, and didn’t ease until maybe four or five hours later. Never have I ever experienced a change in weather that was so drastic and so sudden, but it seems that this is the norm on the high seas.

 (The St Giles islands were deeded as wildlife sanctuaries. Tours may be arranged: contact Frank’s Tours - 470-7084.)

The windswept, windward side of Saint Giles. Photo by Joanne Husain