6 September 2010 Rockport, Maine, USA 

Archive for January, 2010

All is not dormant

Sunday, January 31st, 2010
Sunset at Ballyhac Cove, Owls Head, Maine, 31 January 2010.

Sunset at Ballyhac Cove.

Again, the blazing sun. Again cold—but teens (F), not single digits. I heard the friendly voices of black-capped chickadees when first I stepped out on the back deck. Also heard the beep-beep of a white-breasted nuthatch. Then crows, six of them, flapped up into the crown of the big red oak overhanging my place. As I stood below them, snapping photos, they seemed to alternate calls as if playing a game: first one crow, one call; then another crow, another call. I imagine these six individuals were among the dozens at nearby Clam Cove yesterday.

American crow, Glen Cove, Rockport, Maine, 31 January 2010.

American crow.

I was on the phone with my daughter this afternoon when I spotted the shadows of birds out back. A quick glance out the glass doors got me excited—a pair of hairy woodpeckers playing an urgent game keep-away around the trunk of the big shade maple. (No shade this time of year, of course.) I excused myself to attempt photos, and eased open the door to hear their percussive back-and-forth calls, but I must’ve spooked the birds nonetheless and ended up getting only a few remote photos of the male. (The other was a female, I’m pretty sure.) Not sure what the fuss was about.

Later in afternoon, I visited a friend in Owls Head. En route, in Rockland, I saw circling flocks of gulls, multiple tight groups of starlings, and a solitary robin. At Weskeag Marsh in South Thomaston, I saw no sign of the great blue heron that’d been hanging out there earlier this month. Gulls flapped about the distant main channel, where sucked a falling tide.

Hairy woodpecker, Glen Cove, Rockport, Maine, 31 January 2010.

Hairy woodpecker.

At the Keag Store, the water rushed frantically under the bridge and down the estuary and out to sea. A pair of common goldeneys dove off the landing. It’d be easy to miss all the bird activity in this supposedly dormant time of year.

At my friend’s house on Ballyhac Cove, black ducks and other birds were active at low tide. After sunset, I took a photo of her lovely western sky.

Today’s List

American crow
Black-capped chickadee
White-breasted nuthatch
Hairy woodpecker
Herring gull
Ring-billed gull
Rock pigeon
European starling
American robin
Common goldeneye
Black duck

Weskeag Marsh, South Thomaston, Maine, 31 January 2010.

Weskeag Marsh.

Company

Saturday, January 30th, 2010
The bay, Rockland Breakwater, Rockland, Maine, 30 January 2010.

The bay.

My temperamental weather station showed things got a bit chilly last night—down at least to 5 degrees (F). Still single digits at first light, but apparently none of the whipping winds of yesterday. Sunny. An achingly blue sky. From the back deck I heard the voices of crows, chickadees, and a downy woodpecker.

On a trip to town, I counted the usual herring and ring-billed gulls and saw a single European starling in flight.

Horned grebe, Rockland Breakwater, Rockland, Maine, 30 January 2010.

Horned grebe.

Then, despite the cold, my birding friend Kristen and I ventured out to the breakwater not long after high tide, where rime ice coated most of it granite surface. Somewhat surprisingly, several other couples and groups hazarded a Saturday walk along the narrow strip of ice-free stone. And there was wind—there’s always wind—but relatively light and northwesterly. The stroll out wasn’t too bad. On either side we saw loons, great cormorants, long-tailed ducks, eiders. We saw buffleheads, goldeneyes, mallards, guillemots. Kristen quickly ID’d a horned grebe in winter plumage. Herring gulls, of course.

On the way back we headed more or less straight into the wind. Despite my hat, hood, and scarf, my ears and forehead grew numb in a hurry. But once we’d covered about three-fourths of a mile, we’d reached the lee of the shore, and my face thawed. In fact, we took a little side trip northeast, to a little cove we visit during our area’s annual Christmas Count, to check on a pair of red-breasted mergansers and a group of black ducks.

Red-breasted merganser, bufflehead, black duck, Rockport, Maine, 30 January 2010.

Red-breasted merganser (♀), bufflehead, black duck.

But the most impressive sight came as we drove back, at Clam Cove—a wide tidal flat just a stone’s throw from my place. The tide was going out, and a dozens of crows stalked the icy mud together, poking around for grub. And if the crow party below caught our attention, so did a similarly large collection of small gulls floating far out in the open water: Bonaparte’s gulls, maybe sixty of them. They were pretty far away, but they appeared to have their heads tucked under their wings, snoozing.

Humans, loons, long-tails, black ducks, crows, gulls—all going about their Saturday business in the company of like-minded individuals. Not that I’d describe cold January as miserable, exactly, but it does seem true that most species do love company. (Ironically, I got one photo that features three wildly different ducks.)

After our walk, as Kristen headed home, I heard the spring warble of a house finch coming from across the road.

Today’s List

American crow
Black-capped chickadee
Downy woodpecker
Herring gull
Ring-billed gull
European starling
Mallard
Common loon
Bufflehead
Common goldeneye
Greater black-backed gull
Common eider
Horned grebe
Black guillemot
Long-tailed duck
Great cormorant
Black duck
Red-breasted merganser
Bonaparte’s gull
House finch

Crows and Clam Cove, Rockport, Maine, 30 January 2010.

Crows and Clam Cove.

Winter’s return

Friday, January 29th, 2010
American robin, Camden, Maine, 29 January 2010.

American robin.

More than just a dusting of fine snow had fallen overnight, I saw when I first peered out a window: a good three inches covered everything. Blue sky hung all over the place. Temperatures in the mid-teens (F). I’m not sure it ever got to 20 degrees all day, in fact—a day of fickle but powerful gusts of wind that swept miniature drifts across Route 1, sent fountains of snow off rooftops, chilled bone.

Mallard pair, Camden Harbor, Camden, Maine, 29 January 2010.

Mallard pair.

I didn’t shovel the snow this morning—I took a pushbroom to it. Long-sleeved undershirt, warm overshirt, hooded sweatshirt, and winter parka, and still the icy wind found its way down my collar and threatened to take my hat off. As I swept below them, six crows crows sat clustered together in two pairs of three in the bare limbs of an oak. A jay hollered from the hillside. And the percussive chirps of a house sparrow blared like a string of F-words from across Route 1 somewhere. First member of that species I’d heard around here since summer.

Later I looked up from my desk to see a male cardinal flit into some lilac branches across the parking lot. First cardinal I’d seen this year.

Had a nice lunch with old friends in Camden. The restaurant had good heat. Afterward, I carried my camera down to the public landing to check the waning tide. Schooners hibernated under their tight white shrink-wrap. The wind whipped and whirled. Thanks to our recent rain and thaw, great white churning volumes of water thundered furiously over the ordinarily diaphanous Megunticook River falls. In a pool nearby, a pair of tame mallards dabbled obliviously about.

Megunticook River falls, Camden Harbor, Camden, Maine, 29 January 2010.

Megunticook River falls, Camden Harbor, Camden, Maine, 29 January 2010.

At the head of the harbor, a crow and herring gull dined together on a tidal flat. Out toward Curtis Island, other gulls dropped mussels and urchins onto the wooden surfaces of floats rocking in the chop. The floats were littered with detritus. Then I saw a small bird fly over and into a tangle of stems near the falls: a solitary robin, its tailfeathers fluffed by the wind. I got its photo among a spray of red berries, likely objects of its attention.

I didn’t stay long in the wind and cold and spent most of the rest of the day indoors. But tonight I stepped out onto the creaking deck for a glimpse at the near, full moon. And just inches away hung the red speck of Mars—a dream-provoking pair.

Today’s List

American crow
Blue jay
House sparrow
Northern cardinal
Herring gull
Mallard
American robin
European starling
Rock pigeon

Outer harbor, Camden, Maine, 29 January 2010.

Outer harbor, Camden, Maine.

Seafood

Thursday, January 28th, 2010
Young herring gull, Rockland Breakwater, Rockland, Maine, 28 January 2010.

Young herring gull.

This day dawned bright and mild (seasonally speaking) and full of the voices of crows. One of my first actions of the day, in fact, was to sneak out onto the back deck to see what all the fuss was about. Crows hollering, showing up from neighboring territories, shouting at something from the big bare limbs of the oak trees up the hill. I wasn’t exactly dressed for the 30s (F), but I stuck it out as long as I could. Never did see what they were yelling at. I thought maybe a hawk or owl, maybe a fox. They were even dipping and diving. Finally, their cries simply petered out, and they sat around looking at each other. I suspect the first to raise the alarm was seeing things, and the rest just took him at his word.

Lunch, Rockland Breakwater, Rockland, Maine, 28 January 2010.

Lunch.

Soon after, I heard what sounded at first like a distant blue jay—a single, downward-inflected note. Then it sounded like the love song of a titmouse. And then the titmouse let out three in quick succession, which kind of gave it away.

In early afternoon, the sun abruptly winked out, and the forecast snow showers—I’d found the forecast implausible, I must confess—began in earnest. Gray sky, spitting snow, rising southwest wind. Low tide. Seemed like a good time to walk the breakwater.

Blackbacked gull dining on a large rock. Herring gulls floating on the island side, squawking about something. A ring-billed flying by. Loons, mergansers, buffleheads, and long-tailed ducks diving—a dozen long-tails, in fact, all giving out their magically alluring call—and a pair of great cormorants perching on the edge of the breakwater’s granite stones. The snow intensifying, flakes melting in my eyes.

But this was mostly a day of consumption.

First, a common loon choking down a crab. Then a herring gull at a sushi bar, gulping down urchin roe. Then a cormorant swallowing a good-sized a finfish. And finally, a first- or second-winter herring gull worrying a starfish, shaking it like a ragdoll. I got a photo of it gulping down one of the five limbs, in fact.

Herring gull, Rockland Breakwater, Rockland, Maine, 28 January 2010.

Herring gull.

Chickadees called from the parking lot. And I nearly forgot: I saw a tiny cluster of black ducks flying fast through snowflakes somewhat earlier in the day.

Today’s List

American crow
Tufted titmouse
Greater black-backed gull
Herring gull
Black duck
Black-capped chickadee
Common loon
Bufflehead
Common eider
Red-breasted merganser
Long-tailed duck
Great cormorant

Winter shore, Rockland Breakwater, Rockland, Maine, 28 January 2010.

Winter shore.

The shore

Wednesday, January 27th, 2010
Mid-tide beach, Owls Head, Maine, 27 January 2010.

Mid-tide beach.

It’s easy to forget just how married to the sea we are. We go about our business inshore, along the paved roads, traveling to and from the bank and post office and supermarket. We feel lucky to be able to catch a glimpse of the bay and islands. On foggy nights, we hear the mournful horn. But our history here in coastal Maine is maritime. Lacking sail, or fish, or the winds to carry the timber and lime to the great northeastern cities to the southwest of us, no one would’ve noticed the scenic beauty that brings visitors here in summer, or the “leaf-peepers” in fall.

Bald eagle, Owls Head, Maine, 27 January 2010.

Bald eagle.

Today, our thaw continued. Oh, ice had slickened the parking lot early, as the temperature dipped below freezing overnight, but then the sun shone and the earth warmed and all began to melt again. By afternoon, when I got to feeling footloose, I had a mild, 42-degree (F) day to set out in. By then I’d seen (or heard) only crows, and a solitary herring gull had flown by.

For some reason I headed for the Owls Head Light. Lighthouses get built in exposed places overlooking water, and that’s just the kind of place I felt like visiting. Maybe I’d get a glimpse of a rare winter duck or something.

En route, in town, I spied more herring gulls, ring-billed gulls, rock pigeons, and a few European starlings. Shortly after turning east toward OwlsHead Harbor, I passed a road-killed gray squirrel. As I approached the lighthouse road, a blanket of cloud approaching from the west came between the sun and the landscape—this, after a brilliant sun all day. No matter: the light along a shore contains magic.

The ocean churned at the base of the cliffs as I walked the trail to the light. You could hear the deep-voiced rumbling of the water against rocks below. I heard—then saw—a few black-capped chickadees in the wind-sculpted spruce. I spotted a small group of common eiders in the waves below.

Red-breasted mergansers (pair), Owls Head, Maine, 27 January 2010.

Red-breasted mergansers (pair).

I reached the light. From the high overlook, I scanned with fieldglasses but saw no birds in flight, few ducks—certainly no rare ones. More eiders, a couple red-breasted mergansers. A herring gull floating in the swells nearby. Then I caught a motion toward the southwest, off near a navigation aid, in the direction of the Rockland Breakwater. A bald eagle, a mature adult. I got a long-distance photo.

The hills loomed dramatically in the west. From a height, the water seemed wide and deep and wild. No notable birds, though—no guillemots or dovekies or Bonaparte gulls that I could see.

On the way back I took the little side trail to the protected beach beneath the lighthouse promontory. A wilder-looking vista I can’t imagine. It’s here I thought how married we are to the sea. Red-breasted mergansers took flight. The coastal hills stood blue in the distance. As I walked back to my pickup, from somewhere behind me, an angry red squirrel scolded me.

Late tonight the temperature remains well above freezing. But it’s January still, and I shall not fall for tomfoolery.

Today’s List

American crow
Herring gull
Ring-billed gull
European starling
Rock pigeon
Common eider
Black-capped chickadee
Bald eagle (ad.)
Red-breated merganser
Common loon
Bufflehead

Looking south from Owls Head, Maine, 27 January 2010.

Looking south from Owls Head.

 
Bird Report is an intermittent record of what's outside my window in Rockport, Maine, USA (44°08'N latitude, 69°06'W longitude), and vicinity. —Brian Willson



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