Wildlife at the Abrolhos Archipelago

The Abrolhos Archipelago (in Brazil) is not to be confused with the Abrolhos Islands (also called Houtman Abrolhos Islands, in Australia). In both cases, the name Abrolhos comes from the Portuguese abrolho (abra os olhos = open your eyes), referring to a rock awash or submerged sandbank that is a danger to ships. Coincidently, both archipelagos are national parks (since 1983 and 2019, respectively) and world famous for scuba diving.

The Brazilian Abrolhos

The Brazilian version consists of five islands, the largest of which (Ilha de Santa Bárbara) has a Navy outpost and a lighthouse. Three islands are completely off limits to visitors, while Ilha de Santa Bárbaraand Ilha Siriba can be visited accompanied by Navy or National Park staff, respectively. The Abrolhos Marine National Park covers an area of about 913 km² and includes large areas of submerged reefs which apparently are not particularly well charted.

As usual, the presence of sea birds such as Magnificent frigatebirds, Red-billed tropicbirds, and Common noddies told us, before we could see it, that land was nearby. Knowing that the reef areas were not well mapped, we took a large detour through deeper water to ensure a safe arrival at our anchorage.

As we approached, we made the requisite radio contact to request permission to anchor and permission granted continued into the bay. Even before we had dropped anchor, an inflatable came zooming around the eastern corner of the island and then patiently sat off us a little way while we set, tested and sorted the anchor.

A warm welcome by National Parks

On board were five young people obviously keen to have a chat. As soon as we were ready they came over, introduced themselves as National Park staff and, after exchanging a few pleasantries, started to read us the Abrolhos’ rule book. This included no fishing, no discharging any sewage, no cleaning the hull, no tossing overboard of any organic material, no landing on any of the islands, no touching any wildlife, no this, no that, etc.etc.etc.

So far so good. Being used to working with and staying in National Parks back in Australia, none of the rules came as any surprise until… ‘No diving’ unless with a commercial company”. WTF! Here we were, having sailed to a remote island off Brazil, world famous for SCUBA diving, with our own SCUBA gear and underwater cameras and we weren’t allowed to SCUBA dive. Let’s just say that we were a little disappointed.

With the nearest dive company 30nm away on the mainland, and no visit from them expected for another week, diving with a commercial outfit was not going to be an option. A complete and utter disappointment. Once the very friendly and very nice officials had left, words were said and a language warning came into effect on board Yuma. Then, having exorcized our disappointment, we got on with life.

Snorkeling it is

Cranky that we weren’t allowed to SCUBA dive, we decided to go for a snorkel (following the ‘Not wearing gloves’ and ‘Not carrying a knife’ rules) to check that “it probably isn’t going to be worth going for a dive anyway’’. Well, during our 5-day stay the snorkeling only got better and better and we spent more and more time in the water, so diving would have been worth it. Snorkeling though was just as much fun.

A gruesome encounter

During our first snorkel, we saw a large Green moray eel (Gymnothorax funebris) devouring, tail first, a gold-spotted snake eel (Myrichthys ocellatus). The snake-eel, still alive and looking around with a bit of a hopeless expression, gave intermittent escape wriggles but it seemed to know that it was all to no avail. We could still see it moving once it was all the way down in the moray eel’s stomach. Enough to give you the creeps. Strangely enough, one of the National Park staff told us later that they had seen exactly the same thing happen on a dive (! grrr) at a different reef a few days earlier.

Pack-hunting

On another snorkel, we observed five or six black grouper (Mycteroperca bonaci) hunting with a Green moray eel. While we had seen this cooperative behaviour on the Great Barrier Reef between one grouper and one moray eel, and had also seen coral trout hunting in small groups, this was the first time we observed more than one grouper with a moray eel. Very exciting for two ex-biologists!

Little things and big things

Happily, there were also less aggressive animals swimming around, such as a variety of turtle species (with or without tags for identifying individuals), schools of large blue parrotfish (Scarus trispinosus) grazing on the coral, and huge swarms of juvenile Sergeant majors (Abudefduf saxatilis) drifting in the water column. And, the strangest fish ever, the Longnose Batfish (Ogcocephalus vespertilio), a fish we had seen in the fish books but had never seen or even anticipated seeing as it looked way too ‘deepwater’.

Showing that ‘no-take’ marine reserves really do work (crazy, huh), we came across humongous groupers (Epinephelus spp), including Atlantic Goliath Grouper (Epinephelus itajara), approaching 2m. Lobsters as fat as our thighs, which, instead of scuttling back into their cave on our approach, paraded out confidently to scare us away.

And to top it all off, every time we hopped in or out of the water, a little school of juvenile yellow jacks (Carangoides bartholomaei) that had taken up residency under Yuma came dashing out towards us, as if to say ‘Hello!’. More likely explanation they were checking us out as an alternative hiding place, because invariably, after swimming under us for a while, they would scurry back under the hull. How cute!

Turning on a light house

During our second afternoon at the Abrolhos we landed on Ilha de Santa Bárbara on the small beach beneath the big ‘Do not land’ sign. For this, we got permission from the Navy OIC of the island who chaperoned us during our time on the island.

Camila, a sea turtle researcher, working with National Parks kindly joined us and translated between our English and the Navy’s officer’s Portuguese as well as providing her own excellent insights into the islands and their ecology.

A highlight from this visit was the surprise offer from the Navy OIC, as the sun was setting and we were looking out from the top of the lighthouse, “would you like to start the light?” David could scarcely believe his ears, are you kidding, of course we’d like to start it! This was an offer that we, as sailors and general nerds, could not refuse!

So, while David swung the huge lenses to get them spinning on their circular track, Frederieke pressed the button for the tiny electric motor and light, and violà, the light that had guided us two nights earlier was now turned on, its beam washing out over the island and water.

Out at sea that constantly spinning beam would appear as a flash every six seconds.

Fantastic birding

We had hoped to be able to get ashore on Ilha Siriba but unfortunately we have a certain talent for turning up at places at the wrong time, and, so it was here. It turns out that we were at the islands during a National Parks crew swap and so the staff who had greeted us were leaving and were busy preparing for that while the replacement crew would be the fisheries patrol and so couldn’t take us to Siriba. This meant that we weren’t going to get to see the seabirds birds up close and terrestrial.

Disappointing thought that was, watching their graceful aerial displays from Yuma more than made up for it. There are two species that dominate the islands’ air traffic at this time of the year, these being the dark and dinosaurial Magnificent frigatebirds and the bright white and elegant Red-billed tropicbirds.

Magnificent frigatebirds

The frigatebirds soar on long, thin and angular black wings, lazily riding thermals and turbulence alone or in flotillas of sometimes dozens or hundreds of individuals. Their soaring looks effortless and almost lazy but their flight can be acrobatic and agile as they drop down from height in long, speedy swoops or dive, tumble and corner at speed close along the water when chasing other birds for food or when playing with each other.

Playing with each other? We got to watch two individuals, both juveniles, playing with a mangrove seed. One of them would pick it up from the water, toss it in the air and catch it again while gaining elevation before the other would dive in from a height to try and snatch it away.

There would follow the equivalent of a seabird comedy car chase and the two birds would duck, weave and tumble, one after the other, until the seed pod was dropped or snatched away. Either way, one bird would gain control over the seed pod and the process would repeat itself. This went on for the best part of half an hour and even continued for a short while after the seed pod was lost on shore.

Red-billed tropicbirds

The Red-billed tropicbirds were focused on far more serious matters – breeding – and they spent much of the day engaged in their courting flights. These long, curving flights out from the breeding burrows and hollows on the island are made by two or three but sometimes more birds simultaneously.

They fly in close proximity and, as they approach the apex of the curve, they go into a long sweeping glide, giving their squawking raucous call, curving back around and flying back into towards the nesting site. These flights are made repeatedly and, it would appear from our limited observations, over several days.

Eventually the bloke with the closest glide or the sexiest squawk, or some such attribute or two, must get the girl (or vice versa) and, prospective mates identified, the business of making babies is got on with.

And the other birds

Also present in far less ostentatious ways were the boobies (brown and masked boobies) and the brown noddies. These guys were far less numerous while we were there and were far more business like, flying in and out of the island, from roosting site to foraging area at sea, with little fuss or flair.

On our last day, however, the birds had disappeared from around Yuma. What had happened? The wind had also shifted, so we checked the forecast and saw that there was some strong wind coming which would make our stay at Abrolhos rather uncomfortable.

So after a few delightful days, we decided to pack up and prepare Yuma for a 1.5 day crossing back to the mainland of Brazil.