An Unforgettable Experience off the Coast of Newfoundland

Aptly referred to as “The Rock,” the island of Newfoundland boldly rises from the North Atlantic, a rugged wilderness at North America’s eastern edge. This vast island boasts a mesmerizing landscape—from windswept limestone barrens home to Willow Ptarmigans and woodland caribou to lush Boreal forests alive with warblers and thrushes. Its dramatic cliffs and fjords shelter vast seabird colonies, while its nutrient-rich waters are a haven for humpback whales. Newfoundland is a bucket-list destination for birders, offering glimpses of familiar and elusive species on breeding territory and rare European vagrants. It’s no wonder Roger Tory Peterson and James Fisher began their famed 1953 adventure across Wild America here, or why, in September 2024, Audubon chose it as the backdrop for its first board of directors meeting held in Canada.

Its rich human history supplements Newfoundland’s natural wonders. Indigenous Peoples thrived here, their culture laying the foundation for the island’s story. They were joined around 1000 CE by Norse explorers who established the first known European settlement in North America on its north shore. European fishermen began coming to the waters off Newfoundland perhaps as early as the 1400s. St. John’s, one of the oldest European-settled cities on the continent, is marked on 16th-century maps. The arrival and colonization of Newfoundland by Europeans had a profoundly negative impact on the Indigenous inhabitants, including completely wiping out the Beothuk Indigenous people. But today, this story continues, with strong and vibrant cultures and histories, Indigenous communities of Newfoundland actively influence the island’s culture, rights, and resources through their enduring traditions and autonomy.

A prime example is the Miawpukek First Nation of Conne River, who, in June 2023, signed a landmark Memorandum of Understanding with the Qalipu First Nation, the Governments of Canada, Newfoundland and Labrador, and the Town of Burgeo. Along with the suggestion of converting Sandbanks Provincial Park into a national park, this agreement proposed an offshore national marine conservation area (NMCA) in the South Coast Fjords. At 9,000 square kilometers within the Laurentian Channel, this proposed sanctuary would preserve traditional Indigenous land and sea territories while protecting a rich marine ecosystem. It would safeguard numerous seabirds, endangered and emblematic species like Atlantic cod and leatherback sea turtles, puffins, and critical migration corridors for over 20 cetacean species, including the humpback whale.

To raise awareness of the conservation area, the first Indigenous-led cruise aboard the Polar Prince—a former Canadian Coast Guard light ice breaker, now Miawpukek First Nation majority-owned research and education vessel—was organized during the summer of 2024 by Ken Paul of Pokiok Associates, and Gregory Jeddore of Miawpukek First Nation. The expedition successfully recruited and trained First Nations seafarers through its cadet program, setting the stage for future Indigenous-led ventures. By engaging Mi’kmaw communities, the cruise fostered leadership in tourism, youth engagement, and cultural activities while emphasizing the crucial preservation of the marine environment.

To support the efforts of the Miawpukek First Nation, Audubon helped sponsor the expedition and offered staff expertise for some of the programs onboard. That’s where I come in. I agreed to come aboard for five days as an ornithologist and a specialist with experience and knowledge in seabirds, traveling from Boston to Miawpukek Mi’kamawey Mawi’omi, a First Nation community at the mouth of the Conne River in Newfoundland, on June 14. Miawpukek First Nation took a lead role in the voyage, as both the majority owner of the Polar Prince and home to the Mi’kmaw youth eager to explore marine careers beyond fisheries. This deep connection highlighted their significant involvement in the expedition.

While not as remote as some First Nations across Canada, getting to the Miawpukek First Nation requires careful planning. My journey began with a flight to Toronto Pearson International Airport before continuing to Gander, the nearest international airport, 225 kilometers—or about two and a half hours—from Conne River. Upon arriving at Gander International Airport, I was struck by its small size, remote feel, and old-fashioned charm, with its mid-20th-century design. Exiting the plane on the tarmac and walking into the terminal, it was hard not to recall its role in hosting 7,000 stranded passengers on 9/11.

Also landing in Gander that day was another researcher set to join the Polar Prince, Léa Bouffaut, Ph.D., a Postdoctoral Fellow from the K. Lisa Yang Center for Conservation Bioacoustics at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. As selected expedition guests, we were warmly welcomed by a driver from Conne River, arranged through a network of connections—a gesture that underscored the close-knit and hospitable nature of the community. It was clear from the moment we arrived that we were not just visitors but invited participants in something special. As we wound our way through the rugged landscape from Gander, passing the charred remnants of a nearly 11,000-hectare forest fire just a few years prior, our driver shared stories about his life and the community—tales of rare birds to Conne River, whales in the river harbor, and the relentless impact of climate change in a community that bears the brunt of these changes at a faster rate and higher magnitude than many places the readers of this piece call home. His narratives vividly illustrated the community’s deep connection to the land and sea and their keen awareness of the shifting realities in a rapidly changing world.

By the time we neared Conne River, after many hours of travel (I arrived at Boston Logan International Airport at 4:00 a.m.), the day had given way to the golden hour with the sun setting low. As we descended a small winding road that entered the community, the harbor came into view, with the Polar Prince silhouetted against the fading light, moored offshore, its dark form beckoning us with the promise of adventure. Excitement was built as we were ferried to the ship aboard a tender craft, ready to embark on an expedition that would blend research and discovery, Indigenous and Western science, and the contributions of adults and youth into an unforgettable experience.

Over the next five days, along with Bouffaut and me, the Polar Prince hosted a diverse group of researchers, educators, and photographers from Ocean Networks Canada, Canadian Geographic, and the Marine Institute at Memorial University of Newfoundland. While some people focused on targeted research in Bay d’Espoir, often cataloging the deep-sea floor for organisms like sea pens, others, like me, engaged Conne River’s Indigenous youth in multidisciplinary activities.

Each day aboard the Polar Prince began with a communal breakfast in the galley, fostering a collaborative spirit. The schedule balanced structured activities with hands-on science, often involving high-tech equipment for real research insights. Mornings featured cutting-edge science, with researchers inviting the youth to watch or assist as they deployed cameras or six-figure oceanographic equipment to the ocean floor. Afternoons offered interactive workshops aligned with the day’s research and guest expertise. Despite the vessel’s strict logistics, the unpredictable marine environment required flexibility, which the youth embraced enthusiastically.

As the guest ornithologist, I led presentations on Newfoundland’s birds, the importance of studying them, and their role in connecting people across the Western Hemisphere. I aimed to instill a sense of place and foster stewardship for Newfoundland’s globally significant avifauna. Sessions took place in the lounge, or the helicopter hangar adorned with vibrant art from past expeditions at the ship’s stern atop the decks, providing a rich backdrop for learning. These sessions integrated interactive learning with practical skills, such as bird identification and research methodology. Binoculars provided by Audubon were left on the vessel for future Indigenous cruises, ensuring ongoing access to these essential tools. 

The youth remained highly engaged during the lessons, drawing connections between the content and personal experiences around Conne River and adjacent communities. Throughout each session, they were guided by mentor Faron Joe, a respected community member and artist with decades of experience and connection to the world around him. His insights and personal stories enriched the learning experience, helping to coax the youth into further engagement. The youth also drew meaningful comparisons and summaries across the different presentations, synthesizing knowledge from various teachers and integrating it with their observations and reflections.

As is often the case during an expedition like this with multiple entities sharing a research vessel, our plans evolved. Unfortunately, during my time aboard the ship, we had to stay within the fjord-like system of Bay d’Espoir rather than venture into the open ocean. Despite fewer bird sightings in our immediate area and missing Newfoundland’s famed seabird colonies, we were treated to highlights like Common Loon, Black Guillemot, Caspian Tern, Black-legged Kittiwake, and Bald Eagle—Newfoundland boasts one of the highest breeding densities of Bald Eagles in northeastern North America. Although the youth, who continued to St. John’s after my departure, weren’t present when I disembarked back at the dock in Conne River, I was heartened to hear Boreal-breeding species like Yellow-bellied Flycatcher, Northern Waterthrush, and Mourning Warbler as I assisted gear and folks packing up into their respective vehicles. It made me feel even more connected to the community, knowing that these Boreal-breeding species, which might one day grace my backyard during some migration, are a familiar part of their environment.

As our expedition drew to a close, I reflected on the profound impact of my time in Newfoundland. With its rugged landscapes and deep cultural roots, this island became more than just a backdrop for our journey—it was a living testament to the intricate connections between people, place, and purpose. Witnessing this land and its birds through the eyes of the Miawpukek youth was transformational. As they engaged with marine topics and embraced the lessons learned, it became clear that the foundation for understanding and preserving the delicate balance of our world is already in place—seeds in the soil, poised to blossom into meaningful change. Newfoundland’s natural and cultural beauty will forever remain a cherished part of my heart, a reminder of the enduring bond between our shared environment and the people who call it home.