Albatross Altruism: Is it a Thing?
By Hob Osterlund, Safina Center Fellow
Ala and Kala’i, two weeks old. Photo: Hob Osterlund
One sunny March morning a few years ago I got a call from a docent who worked at a local botanical garden where Laysan albatross (mōlī) nest each year. Pua told me she thought an adult—a visiting bird of unknown age who had recently arrived—was dying. When I got there about thirty minutes later, I agreed with her suspicions. The mōlī was lethargic, barely able to hold up her* head. She didn’t seem to notice our approach. Her gaze was distant, as if she had already flown to a realm beyond our ken.
I had seen that look before, many times. In my former professional life, I have assessed countless humans at the end of their lives. In this case, our best action was to do no harm. To step away and quietly witness her transition. To be sure we didn’t leave an unattended body that could draw rats to the colony.
Pua and I sat down in the front seat of a blue golf cart about twenty feet away. A chest-high wire fence separated us from the mōlī. Light trade winds dappled the rust-colored dirt with shadows from gently waving palm tree fronds. A western meadowlark chirped cheerful notes from the top of an ironwood tree. A rooster crowed on an adjacent bluff. The ocean roared.
Seemingly out of nowhere, another mōlī landed a few feet away from our dying bird. Within a few minutes, a second one arrived. Both of them settled close by. Neither touched her, nor spoke. They preened and napped. They stayed until she died about an hour later, then separately flew away in silence.
What was that about? That particular spot is an uncommon place for mōlī to land. Was their company happenstance, devoid of any particular meaning? Or might it demonstrate a form of empathy? The latter seemed true to Pua and me.
Their arrival did not, however, meet the definition of altruism. In order for an animalʻs action to officially qualify, it has to include a degree of risk. (See Carl Safinaʻs wonderful book Becoming Wild for examples of altruism among sperm whales and chimpanzees.)
Kala’i about two weeks before her injury. Photo: Hob Osterlund
Consider another story. In the spring of 2015, a mōlī chick named Kalaʻi was one of two chicks featured on the Cornell Lab of Ornithology “TrossCam.” When she was about four months old, she was injured during banding.** The banders were veteran professionals. We had never experienced such an outcome, but we quickly knew something was wrong when we watched Kala’i on livestream. She seemed unable to stand. Rehab specialistsʻ consensus was to observe her overnight, and If she had not stood up by morning, an exam and X-ray were planned.
A few hours after the injury, Kalaʻiʻs mother Ala returned from sea. A parent-chick reunion typically involves enthusiastic vocal begging from the chick, followed by multiple feedings from the parent. In this case, there was no begging and no feeding. Ala squatted a few feet away from her babe, but neither bird made eye contact. We watched their behaviors on livestream, and were dismayed.
Ala and Kala’i, one month old. Photo: Hob Osterlund
They did not behave as if they recognized each other.
In the morning, Kalaʻiʻs X-rays revealed a fractured femur. A local vet gave her anesthesia and inserted a rod to stabilize the fracture. Once she was alert and stable, she was returned to her natal nest, which was slightly out of view of the cam.
Ala then did something surprising. She moved near Niau, the other TrossCam chick, maybe twenty feet away from her own injured offspring. She even became protective of Niau. When a cluster of rambunctious sub-adult mōlī came too close, Ala chased them away. When a feral cat strolled through the property in broad daylight, she stayed nearby. We could see what was happening between them all day everyday, since the TrossCam was now focused exclusively on Niau. Occasionally Ala wandered out of sight, but soon returned. I once saw her standing behind Kalaʻi, but neither bird overtly acknowledged the other.
Niau plays with a weed. Photo: Hob Osterlund
Feral cat visits colony. Photo: Hob Osterlund
Was Ala writing off her own babe as fatally injured? Was she grieving and seeking the comfort of a healthy chick? Was she feeling the presence of imminent danger, and chosing to protect an unrelated chick from an unknown threat? Was she “squatting” Niau, hoping to claim her for herself?
We ruled out the last option one afternoon about a week after Kalaʻiʻs surgery. I happened to be on site for our twice-a-day assessment when Niauʻs father Koʻolau landed in a field about fifty feet away. He hurried toward his daughter. Would there be a showdown? If Ala was hoping to take possession of Niau, would she battle with Koʻolau?
Not at all. Ala stepped aside, allowing easy access for Niauʻs dad. There was not a squeal or cross word between them. She stayed a short distance away until Niauʻs feedings were done and Koʻolau flew off.
Niau and her parents. Photo: Hob Osterlund
Ultimately, Ala stayed near Niau for a total of about ten days. Sadly, shortly after she left, Kalaiʻiʻs condition deteriorated and she had to be euthanized. Niau successfully fledged several weeks later.
Were Ala’s actions altruistic? You could argue she took a risk because she went without food for longer than she would have otherwise. But mōlī are built for fasting, so that risk wouldn’t really qualify. You could argue it was risky for her to spend unnecessary time on land because land is where her predators live. But that too is more theoretical than actual.
In the end, we canʻt say albatross altruism is truly a thing. We will never know what motivated Ala. We won’t know why two birds dropped out of the sky and stayed with the dying mōlī. But whatever the spirit of their choices, it seemed to be fueled by a form of compassion.
Besides, even in the absence of altruism, we could all do a lot worse than model ourselves after the mōlī.
* It’s my practice to avoid calling any animal “it,” since there is no such thing. When I guess gender, I figure I have a 50% chance of being right. If I say “it,” I have a 100% chance of being wrong.
**Two other chicks were injured that year when banded by an entirely different team. The injuries made us consider whether the 2015 chick cohort had calcium deficiencies or other abnormalities. Necropsies failed to uncover an issue. No such injuries have occurred since.