Cold Open

It’s June 1858 in Reykjanes, a small headland on the southwestern coast of Iceland.

29-year-old English explorer and ornithologist Alfred Newton makes his way carefully down a rock-strewn slope to the black volcanic beach below. Alfred has a limp, and he leans heavily on a cane as he descends. But his companion, 35-year-old John Wolley, has no such difficulties. And he’s already on the sand.

As a cascade of stones skids out from beneath his boots, Alfred slides the last few feet onto the beach. He catches hold of John’s shoulder to stop himself from toppling over. The two men give each other a small nod, and then go to work.

They’ve come here looking for something very rare and special: a flightless bird called the great auk.

This bird was once common along the Atlantic coastlines of Northern Europe and America, but there have been few reported sightings in recent years. Alfred and John have spent several months travelling across Iceland, and they’ve tracked the last known location of the great auk to this remote spot.

Even at this time of year, the volcanic coastline is buffeted by cold and stormy weather, but the tall cliffs offer some protection from the wind as the two men set off in search of the birds. With their long bodies, hooked beaks, and striking black and white plumage, the great auks should be easy to spot. At 30 inches tall, they stand roughly the height of a two-year-old child.

But after searching the shoreline, Alfred and John find no sign of the birds. As they make their way back along the beach…Alfred’s cane strikes something hard and white in the sand. He bends over to pick it up. It’s a wing bone, bleached by the saltwater. He turns it over to reveal the tell-tale markings of a hunting knife.

Alfred holds the bone up and waves it at his companion—but John has already found another a short distance away. Frowning, Alfred looks carefully at the sand, then spots more white objects just under the surface. With a sinking heart, he realizes that this beach is littered with the skeletons of the bird he spent months searching for.

 Despite an extensive search of the shore, the bones are the only sign of the great auk that Alfred Newton and John Wolley will ever find. Alfred and John have missed their chance, because the great auk is already extinct, and the last of its kind was killed fourteen years earlier by Icelandic fishermen, on June 3rd, 1844.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is June 3rd, 1844: The Extinction of the Great Auk.

Act One

It’s dawn on June 3rd, 1844, off the coast of southwestern Iceland, 14 years before Alfred Newton and John Wolley’s trip to Reykjanes.

Icelander Jón Brandsson pulls at the oars of a fishing boat in time with the eleven other men in his party. Seawater sprays his face, and Jón must blink to clear his vision. But as he does, the sheer cliffs of an island emerge through the mist ahead. Eldey is a steep volcanic outcrop that thrusts out of the water almost 250 feet into the air. There’s only one safe place to land. But Jón is confident that today’s dangerous crossing will be worth it.

Over the past few weeks, local fishermen have reported seeing a pair of great auks nesting on Eldey Island. In his youth, Jón and his father used to come here to hunt for seabirds, including the auks. He can still remember watching his mother skin and gut the birds, and the fatty taste of their cooked meat. But in recent years, the great auk seems to have disappeared from the area.

That means there’s high demand for the birds. And Jón knows that if he can catch one, wealthy collectors in the capital city of Reykjavik will pay handsomely for the prize.

But it still won’t be easy. The waters around Eldey are treacherous, and as they near the island, the boat pitches and rolls in the waves. Jón stows his oar and moves deftly to the bow of the rocking vessel. But just as he’s about to leap into the shallows, the boat is caught by a huge wave, taller than the men aboard. The vessel tips precariously, and Jón barely hangs on as the wave crashes on top of them.

As the others hurry to bail out the water, the rest of Jón’s hunting party joins him at the front of the boat. The three men wait for a break in the waves before plunging into the sea. The water is frigid and the current tugs at their legs, trying to pull them away from the island. But then Jón’s feet touch the bottom, and he pushes toward dry land. Jón and his companions soon make it out of the water, and they scramble up the rocks to safety.

Higher up the slope, hundreds of seabirds are nesting. And amid the kittiwakes and gannets, Jón sees a pair of black and white birds far larger than the rest. It’s the pair of great auks they have come for.

Jón yells at his companions over the crash of the waves and the clamor of bird calls, and they follow him up the cliff. As they approach, the auks flee their nest. Jón notices a large, speckled egg lodged between the rocks. It’d fetch a good price from collectors, so he decides to come back for it after he’s caught the parents.

The hunting party follows the auks towards the cliffs. Jón herds one to a crack in the rocks. The bird flaps its wings helplessly as Jón snatches it up and wrings its neck. He tosses the dead bird over his shoulder and goes in search of the others.

Jón finds it at the cliff edge. Jón gives his men silent instructions, and one of the men lunges for the auk, catching its feet. He pins the bird down while the other man strangles it.

They return to the nesting site for the egg, but realize the shell’s broken, making it worthless. Jón notices the wind is picking up, and the waves are fiercer than ever. So, he decides it's time to get back to their boat.

The men climb carefully down the rocks, with bird carcasses over their shoulders. The two younger men then brave the icy water to climb aboard the boat, but Jón hesitates. He’s numb with cold and drained from chasing the birds. His companions yell for him to get in the water. The boat is pitching perilously and risks being dashed against the rocks.

But Jón doesn’t move. Eventually, one of the sailors tosses a rope that lands at his feet. Jón takes hold and clings to it as the men pull him through the water back to the boat.

Soaking wet, he’s dragged on board and then collapses wearily to the deck. But the exhausting efforts will be worth it. The next day, the two dead auks will sell for the equivalent of $1,500. But neither Jón nor any of the other hunters will suspect that the birds they killed on Eldey Island were the last of their kind, or that they will go down in history as the men responsible for the extinction of an entire species.

Act Two

It’s May 3rd, 1858 in the bustling port of Reykjavik, the capital city of Iceland, 14 years after the last recorded sighting of the great auk.

English ornithologist Alfred Newton watches anxiously from the dock as porters carry his luggage down the gangplank. Alfred’s companion, John Wolley, opens a chest and checks their equipment. Alfred and John have packed everything they need for four months, because they suspect their mission is going to be a difficult and long one. They’re planning to stay in Iceland for the entire summer in hope of catching a sight of a great auk.

Alfred and John have been close friends since their student days at Cambridge University, and they share a love of science and zoology. Their quest begins in Reykjavik, where John meets with local bird dealers and hunters—but there have been no recent sightings of the great auk. Meanwhile, Alfred scours local libraries for written accounts of the bird and its habitats in the hope of identifying the most likely location they might still be found. But as he compiles their research, Alfred realizes just how rapidly the great auk has been disappearing. Once, the bird was a common sight on both sides of the Atlantic, from the shores of Scotland, all the way to the East Coast of Canada. But there’s been no sightings for years, and Alfred fears he might have had a small part to play in its rapid decline.

For as long as great auks and humans have coexisted, both European and Native American hunters have prized the bird for its meat, its soft down feathers, and large nutrient-rich eggs. But in the 19th century, Europe and North America have been swept by a new craze that’s increased demand for species like the great auk: collecting. Rare stuffed animals and preserved eggs now command vast sums of money from wealthy enthusiasts. Even Alfred has joined in, building up an extensive collection of bird eggs. But collectors like him have unwittingly contributed to the decline of several species. By creating a lucrative market in dead animals, they’ve encouraged hunters to track down and kill even the rarest and most endangered. Dozens of mammals, birds, fish, and reptiles have already been declared extinct as a result.

Alfred hopes that the great auk isn't among them, and still survives in a some remote part of the world, and he thinks that Iceland may be his last, best chance to find an auk. He and John want to capture the remaining birds and take them home to England for public display and scientific study. At least that way, there’ll be some record of the bird after it dies out.

As their summer in Iceland progresses, Alfred and John narrow their search to southwest. There, they stay with a local fisherman who took part in an expedition to Eldey Island back in 1844. This fisherman recounts the capture and death of two great auks, and their sale to a collector in Reykjavik. He introduces Alfred and John to the rest of the men on the expedition, and Alfred and John interview each one, taking detailed notes about their trip to Eldey and the last moments of the great auks that were found there. But Alfred and John are no closer to spotting a great auk themselves. Despite extensive searches of the coastline, they only find bones.

After four months in Iceland, they are forced to return to England empty-handed. On the voyage home, Alfred and John conclude that the two birds killed during the 1844 expedition to Eldey Island were likely the last survivors.

They make plans for a return trip the following year to confirm that the great auk is extinct, but that winter, John falls ill and dies at the age of just 36. In his will, John leaves his entire wildlife collection and extensive notes to Alfred. Alfred is devastated by John’s death and vows to honor their friendship by publishing as much of John’s work as possible—and he begins with the fate of the great auk.

Alfred spends the next three years writing up their experiences together, and in October 1861, he publishes an article about their failed quest for the great auk. But that magazine article is just the beginning. Alfred’s study of the auk’s extinction makes him realize the value of conserving wildlife and the need to protect other species from a similar fate. He begins studying other seabirds that have been driven to near extinction by human activity and advocates for the protection of all wildlife from overhunting.

Then in 1866, Alfred will become the first Professor of Zoology and Comparative Anatomy at Cambridge University. And there, he’ll educate and influence Britain’s most promising young scientists, in the hope that the next generation will take better care of the natural world and defenseless creatures like the lost great auk.

Act Three

It’s August 22nd, 1868, at a meeting house in Norwich, England, two years after Alfred Newton became Professor of Zoology at Cambridge University.

The 39-year-old Alfred still limps as he makes his way to a podium accompanied by a smattering of quiet applause. The lecture hall is packed with members of the British Association for the Advancement of Science, and Alfred can see some of the audience yawning and leaning back in their chairs. It’s the end of a long meeting, and they’re expecting another dry talk on natural history. But Alfred has something else in mind.

Speaking passionately, he describes how animals once common across the farms and fields of England are vanishing at an alarming rate. He rails against the extermination of birds of prey by gamekeepers and laments the thousands of other birds killed every year so their feathers can adorn women’s hats.

Alfred argues that each species has its place in the ecosystem, and that mankind must protect wildlife from extinction. He tells his audience that if they do not take action now, they will receive few thanks from posterity. After Alfred is finished, the lecture hall erupts into a far more enthusiastic round of applause than the one that greeted him at the start.

And the impact of Alfred’s work is soon felt beyond the scientific community. The next day, newspapers praise his impassioned speech, promoting his novel ideas to the general public. Alfred continues speaking out on behalf of wildlife at every opportunity, and his dedication soon pays off. The following year, British politicians enact the Sea Birds Preservation Act, which makes it illegal to hunt sea birds during their breeding seasons. And in 1891, the Society for the Protection of Birds is formed to campaign against all forms of bird hunting.

But it will come too late for the great auk and countless other species like it.

Today, the last great auk killed during Jón Brandsson’s expedition can still be seen in the Royal Belgian Institute of Natural Sciences in Brussels. Stuffed and mounted on a wooden board, it is a reminder of what can be lost when the natural world is viewed only as a resource to exploit and not a gift to be nourished. Despite the efforts of scientists like Alfred Newton, it is a lesson many still haven’t learned, over a hundred and fifty years after the last great auks were killed on Eldey Island on June 3rd, 1844.

Outro

Next on History Daily. June 4th, 1783. Two French siblings hold a public demonstration of their new invention: the hot-air balloon.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Gabriel Gould.

Supervising Sound Designer Matthew Filler.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Lauren Sudworth.

Edited by Scott Reeves.

Managing producer Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.