Surtsey: The Island Born of Fire and Shaped by Unexpected Life
Iceland’s Surtsey island, a volcanic landmass that dramatically emerged from the Atlantic Ocean in the 1960s, offers an unparalleled natural laboratory for scientists studying ecological succession and the resilience of life. The story of Surtsey is one of fiery birth, surprising colonization, and a stark reminder of nature’s power to reclaim even the most desolate landscapes.
In November 1963, the crew of the Ísleifur II fishing vessel first noticed something amiss while working off the southern coast of Iceland. A dark mass filled the sky, initially mistaken for a burning ship, but quickly revealed to be an underwater volcanic eruption. As the days passed, a ridge began to form beneath the waves, rapidly ascending into a nascent island. By the next morning, it stood 10 meters tall, and within 24 hours, had reached 40 meters. Surtsey was being born.
Within two months, the volcanic rock had grown to over a kilometer in length and peaked at 174 meters. Named after Surtr, the fire giant from Norse mythology, the island quickly captured the attention of both local Icelanders and the scientific community. Islanders and fishers from the nearby Vestmannaeyjar archipelago witnessed the spectacle, observing lightning strike the erupting volcano as it waxed and waned over two years.
The emergence of Surtsey presented a unique opportunity to observe colonization without the pervasive influence of human interference. “It is very rare to have an eruption where an island forms and is long lasting,” explains Olga Kolbrún Vilmundardóttir, a geographer with the Natural Science Institute of Iceland. “It happens once every 3,000 to 5,000 years in this area,” she adds, noting that most such formations are quickly eroded by the ocean.
To protect this pristine environment, the Icelandic government formally protected Surtsey in 1965, restricting access to researchers and, on rare occasions, journalists under strict supervision. No livestock – not even sheep – were ever permitted to graze on the island. The first evidence of life arrived quickly, with a clump of sea rocket washed ashore from the Icelandic mainland the same year the protections were put in place. Scientists observed seeds and plant residues arriving on the shores even while the eruption continued.
Initial expectations centered on algae and mosses as the first colonizers, gradually building a foundation for more complex plant life. However, nature defied expectations. While plants did arrive via ocean currents, the initial explosion of life came from an unexpected source: birds. “People thought, what now? Around 10 species had colonised Surtsey at that point. The plant cover was really scarce. But then the birds arrived,” recalls Pawel Wasowicz, director of botany at the Natural Science Institute.
In the early 1980s, black-backed gulls began nesting on Surtsey, finding refuge in the stormy Atlantic. Their guano, rich in nutrients, carried seeds that rapidly spread grasses across the island, transforming barren rock into green expanses. This challenged long-held biological assumptions. “It’s surprising,” Wasowicz states. “From the times of Darwin, biologists thought that it was just plant species with fleshy fruits that could travel with birds. But the species on Surtsey do not have fleshy fruits. Almost all of the seeds on Surtsey were brought in the faeces of the gulls.”
Today, grey seals have become the latest arrivals, utilizing Surtsey as a crucial “haul-out” site for resting and molting, and as a safe breeding ground away from orcas. Their waste products contribute vital nitrogen to the island’s ecosystem, further fueling biodiversity.
However, the story of Surtsey is not one of indefinite growth. Scientists predict that erosion will gradually reclaim portions of the island, including the grey seal haul-out site, by the end of the century. Its biodiversity will likely peak and then decline, eventually leaving a solitary rock formation in the Atlantic.
Despite this inevitable erosion, the lessons learned from Surtsey remain invaluable. The island demonstrates that even in the most challenging environments, resilience and renewal are possible. It offers practical insights for rehabilitating ecosystems damaged by human activity, proving that, given space, nature will always find a way to return, often in ways we cannot predict. “I feel that Iceland is really contributing something important to humankind by preserving this area,” Vilmundardóttir concludes. “On the mainland, the impact of humans is everywhere. When I am on Surtsey, I am really in nature. All you can hear are the birds. You see orcas along the coastline and the seals popping out and watching.”
