The Bird Man

Johannes Fritz needed to come up with a plan if he was going to prevent his rare and beloved birds from going extinct.

To survive the European winter, the northern bald ibis—which had once disappeared entirely from the wild on the continent—needs to migrate south, over the Alps, before the mountains become impassable. But shifting climate patterns have delayed when the birds begin to migrate, and they’re now reaching the mountains too late to make it over the peaks, locking them in an icy death trap.

“Two or three years, and they’d be extinct again” in the wild, says Fritz, an Austrian biologist.

Determined to save them, Fritz decided he would teach the birds a new, safer migration route by guiding them himself in a tiny aircraft. He’s confident he can succeed in this daring plan—because he’s done it before.

When Fritz was born 56 years ago in western Austria, the northern bald ibis, a black bird with a bald head and large beak, could be found in Europe only in captivity. Some 400 years ago, Europeans likely devoured the last of the wild ones.

Johannes Fritz needed to come up with a plan if he was going to prevent his rare and beloved birds from becoming extinct.

The northern bald ibis had once disappeared entirely from the wild in Europe. To survive the winter, ibises need to migrate south. They have to fly over the Alps before the mountains become impassable. But changing climate patterns have delayed when the birds begin to migrate. Now they reach the mountains too late to make it over the peaks. They get caught in an icy death trap.

“Two or three years, and they’d be extinct again” in the wild, says Fritz, an Austrian biologist.

Fritz was determined to save the birds. He decided he would teach them a new, safer migration route. He could guide them himself using a tiny plane. He knows he can succeed because he’s done it before.

Fritz was born 56 years ago in western Austria. At that time the northern bald ibis, a black bird with a bald head and large beak, could be found in Europe only in captivity. Some 400 years ago, Europeans likely ate the last of the wild ones.

But Fritz has spent his career reintroducing the birds into the wild, and an essential part of their education has been teaching the young the migration path they’ll follow as adults. Fritz learned to fly, modifying an ultralight aircraft so it would cruise at speeds slow enough for his winged students to keep up.

He was his young pupils’ sole provider of food, love, and cuddles since they’d been just a few days old, and the ibises eagerly followed their teacher—who just happens to pilot a noisy machine.

In 2004, Fritz led the first flock from Austria to Italy and has since led 15 such migrations. Over that time, he has rewilded 277 young ibises, many of which then started to pass the route on to their own young.

But Fritz has spent his career reintroducing the birds into the wild. An important part of his plan has been teaching the young birds the migration path they’ll follow as adults. Fritz learned to fly a plane. He modified an ultralight aircraft so it would fly at speeds slow enough for the young birds to keep up.

He was the only provider of food, love, and cuddles since the birds had been just a few days old. The ibises eagerly followed their teacher—who just happens to pilot a noisy machine.

In 2004, Fritz led the first flock from Austria to Italy. He has since led 15 more migrations. Over that time, he has rewilded 277 young ibises. Those birds then started to pass the route on to their own young.

But the route he originally taught the ibises is no longer viable. With climate change warming the area where the birds summer—by Lake Constance in Germany and Austria—they now start their migration at the end of October instead of the end of September, as they’d done just a decade ago.

In 2022, as Fritz followed the birds’ progress, he found snow covering the ibises’ feathers, and their long beaks struggled to find larvae and worms in the frosty soil. All their attempts to make the trip failed. Fritz theorized that warm air flows were too weak by November to allow the birds to soar with ease over the mountains.

Fritz and his team lured the ravenous animals with mealworms, trapped them in crates, and drove them over the Alps. But a private coach service, Fritz realized, wasn’t sustainable. So he decided to teach the birds a new migration path, to southern Spain, where the birds could safely winter.

But the route he originally taught the ibises is no longer viable. Climate change is making the area near Lake Constance in Germany and Austria warmer in the summer. Now the birds start their migration at the end of October instead of the end of September, as they’d done just a decade ago.

In 2022, as Fritz followed the birds’ progress, he found snow covering the ibises’ feathers.  The birds were struggling to find larvae and worms in the frosty soil. All their attempts to make the trip failed. Fritz theorized that warm air flows were too weak by November. The birds couldn’t fly over the mountains with ease.

Fritz and his team lured the starving animals with mealworms. They then trapped them in crates and drove them over the Alps. But a car service, Fritz realized, wasn’t sustainable. So he decided to teach the birds a new migration path. He wanted to reroute the birds to southern Spain, where they could safely spend the winter.

Bypassing the mighty Alps, the new route is about 2,500 miles, or three times longer than their previous one directly south to Tuscany. Flying at a maximum speed of 25 miles per hour, the trip was expected to take about six weeks, as opposed to the two to reach Tuscany.

Still, “we’re optimistic that it’ll work,” Fritz said last summer.

In 1997, a zoo gave the research center in Austria where he worked its first northern bald ibis chicks. Most of the scientists were uninterested. But Fritz took to them and they to him.

After the ibises were first released back into the wild more than 20 years ago, Fritz learned that spending generations in confinement hadn’t curbed their drive to migrate, though it had left them geographically ignorant. In their search for “south,” some ended up in Russia.

What the ibises needed, Fritz thought, was a guide.

The new route is about 2,500 miles. It is three times longer than flying over the Alps directly south to Tuscany. Flying at a maximum speed of 25 miles per hour, the trip is expected to take about six weeks instead of the the two weeks it takes to get to Tuscany.

Still, “we’re optimistic that it’ll work,” Fritz said last summer.

In 1997, a zoo gave the research center in Austria where Fritz worked its first northern bald ibis chicks. Most of the scientists were uninterested. But Fritz took to them and they to him.

After the ibises were first released back into the wild more than 20 years ago, Fritz learned that spending years in confinement hadn’t lessened their drive to migrate. But it did leave them geographically ignorant. In their search for “south,” some ended up in Russia.

What the ibises needed, Fritz thought, was a guide.

“Around that time, Fly Away Home was a huge hit with us biologists,” Fritz says, recalling the 1996 movie in which an inventor and a teenage girl lead the migration of orphaned Canada geese in a hang glider. When Fritz proclaimed he’d do the same with the ibises, he was initially ridiculed. But through years of trial and error, he succeeded.

And so, on a blistering hot morning last August at his Lake Constance campsite, Fritz zipped up his olive-green jumpsuit and hopped into his aircraft, turning around to check on the 35 ibises. As they rose above the grassy airstrip, the birds flapped their black wings, following just behind.

They soon flew west to France, then south to the Mediterranean, where they traced the coast all the way to Andalucia in Spain, one of the hottest regions on the continent, dealing with unpredictable weather along the way.

It was a long trip, lasting “a mammoth 43 days,” Fritz told the BBC.

But the ibises rose to the challenge.

After “this epic trip,” he says, “the ibis ‘class of 2023’ are now the first generation of what we hope becomes a new migration tradition that will continue for many years to come.”

“Around that time, Fly Away Home was a huge hit with us biologists,” Fritz says, recalling the 1996 movie in which an inventor and a teenage girl lead the migration of orphaned Canada geese in a hang glider. Fritz was initially ridiculed when he had the idea to do the same with the ibises. But through years of trial and error, he succeeded.

On a hot August morning at his Lake Constance campsite, Fritz zipped up his olive-green jumpsuit and hopped into his aircraft. He turned around to check on the 35 ibises. As he took off, the birds flapped their black wings, following just behind.

They flew west to France and south to the Mediterranean. They followed the coast all the way to Andalucia in Spain, one of the hottest regions on the continent. The weather was unpredictable along the way.

It was a long trip, lasting “a mammoth 43 days,” Fritz told the BBC.

But the ibises rose to the challenge.

After “this epic trip,” he says, “the ibis ‘class of 2023’ are now the first generation of what we hope becomes a new migration tradition that will continue for many years to come.”

Denise Hruby covers climate, wildlife, and other topics from her base in Austria.

Denise Hruby covers climate, wildlife, and other topics from her base in Austria.