Fieldwork Above the Arctic Circle – Part One

Flying over the Swedish Arctic

The helicopter dropped us off, we unloaded our gear, and then it disappeared back over the horizon. For the next ten days, this was home. We were in northern Sweden, in a place called Tavvavuoma, well above the Arctic Circle, in an area with no roads, no phone reception and no easy way out. I was there as part of my master’s thesis fieldwork, with the main goal of catching birds and deploying GPS loggers to collect movement data.

A few days earlier, I had been in Lund, close to the southernmost point of Sweden. From there we flew from Malmö to Stockholm, then on to Kiruna. In Kiruna we did our final shopping, knowing that the next flight would be by helicopter and that once we were dropped off, there would be no quick trips back for forgotten items.

Waiting for the helecopter to leave

We had tents, food for ten days, our field equipment and one satellite phone. The rule was to check in once a day to let people know we were still alive. Apart from that, we were on our own. After a long day of travelling we were all tired, but before we could relax and go to sleep we had to find places for our tents and set up camp. I found a nice spot for my tent among some birch bushes, and once everything was ready it was straight to bed. The following morning would start very early, like most of the days to come.

My home in Tavvavuoma

We would usually get up around 3 in the morning, as mornings and evenings are the most active times of day for the birds. This far north the sun never sets during summer, so it was a bit strange getting up at three in the morning and the sun was still shining. It wasn’t completely unfamiliar, as the light conditions are similar in Iceland, but waking up at this hour is usually something I associate with airports rather than fieldwork.

On our first morning, which also happened to be my 25th birthday, we headed out into the field to look for nests and to check on the base stations that were distributed across the area. These stations collected the data from the GPS loggers, when a bird carrying a logger comes within range, the information would be transferred automatically to the device.

Walking between base stations, hoping for data.

Our hope was that some of the birds breeding in the area had been fitted with loggers the previous summer. We were focusing on a couple of key species, the ruff and wood sandpipers, which breed on the palsa mires. The aim was to find out where these birds spend the winter and which migration routes they take, information that is still unknown for these northern populations. These birds are at the very edge of their range. They can’t move further north and with climate change their habitats are shifting and shrinking. Tracking their movements is therefore essential because it allows us to protect not just their breeding grounds but also the critical areas they rely on throughout the year.

This was initially what I planned to focus on for my master’s thesis, but as is often the case in biological studies, not everything went according to plan.

A male ruff, one of the study species

We walked through the palsa mires to the base station, hoping that some of the birds that were ringed the previous year had returned and passed close enough for the data to transfer. We were excited when we arrived at the first one. The technician connected his computer to the base station, but when it finally connected there was nothing there. We were disappointed, but there were still five more stations to check, so all hope was not lost.

We continued walking through the palsa mire toward the next station. Walking in this habitat is not easy. The landscape is made up of small peat mounds that stay frozen below the surface, even in summer. Around them are ponds and wet mires where the top layer of the ground thaws. The vegetation is mostly sedges, cotton grass, and low shrubs like birch and willow. To get across the area we had to find places where the ground was still frozen close to the surface. Otherwise, you could sink straight down into the mire, so we usually carried long sticks to test whether the ground was safe to walk on or not.

The palsa mires of Tavvavuoma

We reached the next station and connected the computer to the base station, but again there was nothing. We packed our things and walked on to the next one, and then the next, each time hoping this would be the one that worked. By the time we had checked all but one station, we still had no data. We had one more chance, but by then I had already realised that even if the last station worked, it wouldn’t be enough data for a full master’s thesis. The plan I had arrived with was slowly falling apart.

It was my birthday, a day that usually comes with celebrations and nice surprises, but instead I was in the middle of nowhere in the Swedish Arctic, facing the reality that my fieldwork hadn’t gone as planned. I remember walking back toward camp, thinking about what this meant and what I would do next. Luckily, I had amazing supervisors that already on the way back to camp, had started thinking about solutions to my problem and new angles for my project.

With my supervisors and some of the other researchers.

When we had finished checking the base stations and were back at the campsite, it was already evening. The day had been long, and we were exhausted, but after cooking together, finally sitting down for a warm meal felt incredible. After the dinner I got to enjoy a little birthday treat I had brought, chocolate covered licorice from Iceland. People were skeptical at first, but most of the team ended up trying it, and to my surprise, they actually liked it.

A tired but happy group after a long day in the field

A nice surprise was that everyone sang happy birthday for me. Since the group was so diverse, I got my birthday song in four languages, Swedish, Sámi, English and I couldn’t help but sing it in Icelandic too, since they were curious about it. But there was no time to celebrate into the night, we had to be up at three the next morning to ring our first birds.

Going to bed that night, I felt a bit of mixed emotions. Even though we hadn’t collected the data we had hoped for, I felt incredibly lucky to be there, experiencing something so few people ever get to. I was very excited about the adventures the coming days would bring.