TrossCam Stars Come Home Again

By Hob Osterlund, Safina Center Fellow

Photo: Kaluakane and Kaluahine, parents of Kaloakulua (“KK”) await egg to hatch. ©Hob Osterlund

Late one afternoon in the spring of 2019, I got a call from a seabird biologist in Honolulu. He wanted to know whether any of the Kaua’i Laysan albatross chicks (Mōlī in Hawaiian) had current evidence of avian pox. The pox lesions can sometimes be difficult to spot, so I called Jeanine Meyers, a friend and Kauaʻi Albatross Network volunteer, to ask if she was available to join me. Like the ant scientist E.O. Wilson, Jeanineʻs vision must be something close to 20/10. She can always see small things before anyone else: white shells in white sand, the corneal opacity of a one-eyed Mōlī, drops of squid ink on an adult bird’s feathers.

Turned out Jeanine was free to join me—which was good news, but not entirely for the reasons we thought.

After we checked a bunch of chicks on the private properties KAN monitors, we headed for one last place. It was the former site of the “TrossCam,” the first-ever live-streaming camera to focus on a Mōlī family. The cam followed Kaloakulua, or “KK” as viewers called her, from the day she hatched until the day she fledged 149 days later. A joint project between KAN and Cornell Lab of Ornithology, the cam turned out to be popular among bird fans all over the world.  

Video: KK’s parents trade places on their nest. ©Hob Osterlund

KK was a character. She enchanted us every day of those five months. The first night she was left alone—at only three weeks of age—it bucketed rain. We watched her, soaked and shivering, and had to slap down our own urges to run there with umbrellas. Later we watched her climb out of her nest and easily scale a little jumble of rocks we had placed there to prevent her from wandering off camera. We watched her sit side-by-side preening with “George,” a wild rooster about her own age. We watched her with great alarm when a feral dog appeared on cam and sniffed her while she napped. Thankfully, she never responded to him. He moved on, but we needed assistance—from fermented grapes and the pharmaceutical industry—to cope.  We set up large traps and stood vigil for several days. The dog, later named “Makakilo” because of his unusual blue eyes, ended up being trapped about six weeks later on another property. He was eventually adopted. 

Photo: KK at one week old. ©Hob Osterlund

Photo: Both KKʻs parents are excellent providers. ©Hob Osterlund

When KK was ninety-nine days old, another Mōlī chick appeared on the scene. “Mango” had hatched just out of view of the camera, but had recently gotten mobile enough to explore his surroundings. KK made a curious eeping sound and headed in his direction. He would have none of it. He “ran” (waddling on his heels—or really the back of his ankles—as a young albatross is wont to do) toward her, perhaps protecting his turf. Although he stumbled and fell before he reached her, KK squealed as if injured, then retreated. 

From that moment on, the relationship between the two chicks became the prevailing entertainment on the TrossCam. The way they guarded their own territories, imitated each other, even appeared to compete with each other—all left us guessing what behavior we might see next.

As we hoped, both chicks eventually fledged from their bluff on northeast Kaua’i. Honestly? It was a bittersweet experience. We could too well imagine the growing list of threats at sea, including warming waters, sea level rise, diminishing food, longline fish hooks, plastic pollution and more. Roughly half the Mōlī chicks who successfully fledge are never seen again by humans. The ones who do return are gone for 4-5 years.  During that time they never touch solid ground.  We knew it would take those years to learn whether our babes had survived.

Photo: Right before she fledged, KKʻs dad spent a full day with her. ©Hob Osterlund

Four years later, we dutifully started watching for KK and Mango. We looked for them dozens of times, peering through binoculars at every leg band on every adult Mōlī. At the end of the 2018 nesting season, we had to give up. We had seen neither of them.

We resumed in earnest in 2019, checking every bird. Then came the auspicious day Jeanine and I were checking the chicks for pox. As we headed down the driveway of the old TrossCam site, and an adult Mōlī was standing on our right, looking our way.  Jeanine instantly used her superpower and declared the bird to be KK. I grabbed my bins and confirmed what she already knew. It felt like a miracle: that she had figured out how to fly, how to find food, how to avoid danger, and to make her way home? I mean, seriously.

Photo: Jeanine Meyers of the Kauaʻi Albatross Network watches KK on her first return after five years at sea. ©Hob Osterlund

A few days later I saw another adult bird on the same property, and it turned out to be Mango. A few days after that, several of us TrossCam operators went to the site, and both birds were there. Not only were they there, but they danced and flirted like veterans, right in front of us. We were ecstatic.

Photo: KK (L) dances after her return in 2020. ©Hob Osterlund

We have spotted both KK and Mango again, in 2020 and 2021, on more than one property. This year it appears Mango has found his true love. Of course we had hoped it would be KK, but thatʻs not how it worked out. Mango is seven years old and his lady love is eleven. Theyʻre both from Kauaʻi, and if they mate and she lays an egg later this year when they reunite, it will be their first.

Photo: KK and Mango reunite for the first time as adults. ©Hob Osterlund

Will we see the next generation of KK and Mango? We sure hope so. Keep your vision sharp. 

Photo: KK and Mango preen each other after five years apart. ©Hob Osterlund