The Islet of Vila Franca do Campo and the Living Covenant Between Nature and the Azores

There are places whose importance cannot be measured by their size. They occupy only a few hectares on a map, yet they hold entire worlds within their shores. The Ilhéu de Vila Franca do Campo, rising quietly from the Atlantic just a few hundred meters off São Miguel’s southern coast, is one of those rare places where geology, history, biodiversity, and memory exist in extraordinary harmony. Born from fire more than four thousand years ago through a submarine volcanic eruption, sculpted by waves and time into a nearly perfect crater open to the sea, the islet has become far more than one of the Azores’ most recognizable landscapes. It is a sanctuary where nature continues to write its oldest stories, provided humanity has the wisdom to remain a respectful reader rather than an impatient author.

That delicate balance between preservation and public enjoyment lies at the heart of a new report issued by the Standing Parliamentary Committee on Parliamentary Affairs, Environment and Sustainable Development of the Legislative Assembly of the Azores following its visit to the protected islet on World Environment Day, June 5, 2026. The committee’s conclusions are neither alarmist nor complacent. Instead, they affirm a truth that increasingly defines conservation in the twenty-first century: extraordinary places do not remain extraordinary by accident. They endure because societies choose, generation after generation, to protect them.

The report describes the Ilhéu not simply as a geological monument but as a living ecosystem requiring continuous stewardship. Its recommendation is clear: long-term monitoring, sustained investment in biodiversity conservation, careful management of public access, and ongoing scientific research must remain permanent priorities if the ecological integrity of this remarkable reserve is to survive the growing pressures of modern tourism and environmental change.

The island’s own history illustrates how landscapes are never static. Over the centuries, the Ilhéu has served many purposes. It was once a military fortification guarding the coast, later a refuge for ships, a lookout during the era of whaling, a summer retreat, a place where vines were cultivated, rabbits hunted, fishermen launched their boats, and whalers prepared their expeditions. Every generation left its mark. Some enriched its story. Others altered its ecological balance in ways only later understood. Among those unintended legacies was the introduction of giant reed, now recognized as one of the principal threats to the nesting habitat of the seabirds that have made the islet their home.

Nature, however, has always remained the Ilhéu’s truest architect.

Since its designation as a Natural Reserve in 1983, followed by its incorporation into the São Miguel Island Natural Park in 2008, conservation has gradually replaced exploitation as the guiding philosophy. Today the volcanic crater that once witnessed centuries of human activity has become one of the Atlantic’s most valuable refuges for marine birds, its steep volcanic walls offering something increasingly rare in the natural world: safety.

Perhaps nowhere is that success more visible than in the colony of the Cory’s Shearwater, known locally as the cagarro, one of the enduring symbols of the Azorean islands. The report confirms that the Ilhéu now shelters more than one thousand nesting burrows, making it one of the species’ most important breeding colonies in the archipelago. During the nesting season, researchers conduct extensive scientific banding operations, collecting invaluable information about migration routes, survival rates, breeding success, and population dynamics. Every small aluminum ring attached to a bird’s leg becomes a sentence in a much larger story about the health of the Atlantic Ocean itself.

Equally encouraging is the return of the Madeiran Storm Petrel, a species whose history on the Ilhéu reflects both ecological fragility and conservation success. Once driven away by invasive rats, the bird disappeared from the reserve for decades. Following successful eradication efforts, its calls once again echoed through the volcanic cliffs, and by 2017 nesting had been confirmed once more. More recently, researchers expanded their monitoring through mist-netting, banding programs, and the installation of artificial nesting sites, steadily rebuilding scientific understanding of a species whose survival depends upon places precisely like this one.

The report also highlights ongoing efforts to determine whether another seabird—the Bulwer’s Petrel—may once again be returning to breed on the islet. Such questions reveal the patient nature of conservation. Ecological recovery rarely unfolds dramatically. It advances quietly, often measured not in years but in decades, through persistent observation and countless small interventions whose significance only future generations may fully appreciate.

Conservation here extends well beyond birds alone. Native and endemic plants—including the iconic Azorina, tree heath, firetree, and other characteristic species of the Azorean coastal flora—continue to reclaim portions of the volcanic landscape once dominated by invasive species. Even the remaining vineyards, where traditional grape varieties recall the production of the once-famous “Ilhéu” wine, have been preserved not as agricultural enterprises but as living reminders that cultural heritage and natural heritage frequently share the same landscape.

Yet the Ilhéu is not a place sealed away from humanity.

Each summer, carefully managed public access allows thousands of visitors to experience its remarkable lagoon and volcanic beauty. Strict daily limits govern transportation by boat and kayak, while Nature Rangers remain present to oversee visitor safety and environmental protection. Boardwalks have been restored, safety barriers installed, visitor facilities upgraded, and infrastructure improved—not to increase exploitation but to minimize its ecological footprint. These investments reflect an increasingly sophisticated understanding that responsible tourism is not measured by the number of visitors admitted but by the quality of the experience they leave behind and the condition in which the landscape remains after they depart.

The committee rightly concludes that protecting the Ilhéu requires reconciling public enjoyment with ecological sensitivity. That may sound like a technical challenge, but it is, above all, an ethical one. Every protected landscape asks the same fundamental question: can people learn to admire nature without overwhelming it?

For the Azores, that question carries particular significance. The archipelago’s extraordinary biodiversity has become one of its defining international identities. Increasingly, visitors cross the Atlantic not simply to admire volcanic scenery but to encounter living ecosystems found nowhere else on Earth. Their expectations bring opportunity, but also responsibility. Tourism cannot become the reason these landscapes lose the very qualities that first inspired the journey.

Perhaps that is why the Ilhéu de Vila Franca do Campo matters far beyond its modest size. It represents a philosophy of coexistence. Fire created it. The ocean shaped it. Birds entrusted it with their future. Now its destiny rests largely in human hands.

The measure of conservation is never simply the species we save or the habitats we restore. It is whether future generations will inherit places where wildness still possesses the freedom to remain itself.

On the Ilhéu de Vila Franca do Campo, that covenant continues—one nesting cagarro, one restored habitat, one careful visitor, and one generation at a time.

Adapted from a story in Diário dos Açoes, Paulo Vivieiros, director.

Photo (1) from: https://byacores.com/en/ilheu-de-vila-franca-do-campo-sao-miguel-island/

Photo (2) from: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ilheu-de-Vila-Franca-Azores_2010_01.jpg

Photo (3) from: https://cmvfc.pt/