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6 September 2010
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Rockport, Maine, USA
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Posts Tagged ‘common goldeneye’
Thursday, March 11th, 2010
 Sundog. Weatherwise, today was much like yesterday: chilly, sunny, spring-like. A crow awakened me, but there was a titmouse and a cardinal out there singing, too. I heard chickadees, watched a gray squirrel root around for old acorns, saw eight crows meet the benevolent jogger.
 Purple sandpiper. Busy, busy day. Didn’t get out of the office until 5 p.m.—just in time for a quick trip out the breakwater and back. The breeze came out of the south for a change, roughening the harbor side. On the island side a small flock of common goldeneyes settled down, a male and about a half-dozen females. Then a smaller group of red-breasted mergansers flew over, east to west. Ducks still nervous-seeming, antsy, ready to move.
I heard the wail of a loon and saw another with nearly breeding plumage. The pair that rounds the end of the breakwater were doing so again as I reached it. Herring gulls. Common eiders.
I neither saw nor heard long-tailed ducks, however—I think they’d already headed out by then.
 Rockland Breakwater. But I was pleasantly surprised to come upon a pair of purple sandpipers scouting around weedy boulders at mid-tide. Hadn’t seen any in a month, I bet, at least. These little guys range farther north than any other shorebird, nesting in the tundra of northern Canada. I expect this pair is headed that way soon.
Heading out, I noticed a minor sundog appearing below our planet’s actual star as it dipped behind a cloud. By the time I got about half-way back, the sun had set, and the high clouds showed lovely dark rippling patterns. No woodcocks yet within earshot of me—but low in the night sky hung the twinkling dog star.
Closing note: the Biodiversity Research Institute‘s “Eagle Cam Two” has confirmed the laying of an egg yesterday. More of these miracles will certainly follow. And the shape, the arc, of our slide through the equinox and over the solstice has begun.
Today’s List
American crow
Tufted titmouse
Northern cardinal
Black-capped chickadee
Herring gull
Common goldeneye
Red-breasted merganser
Common loon
Common eider
Puple sandpiper
 Evening sky.
Tags: American crow, black-capped chickadee, common eider, common goldeneye, common loon, herring gull, Northern cardinal, purple sandpiper, red-breasted merganser, tufted titmouse
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Tuesday, March 9th, 2010
 Cloudless. The morning sun blasted yellowly against the hill first thing, as if whipped into some kind of photovoltaic lather while zipping in across the bay. While making breakfast, I saw through the kitchen window a crow, a pair of downy woodpeckers, and a mourning dove. I stepped out to photograph the dove, and a cardinal hopped up into some naked branches nearby. I snapped some shots of the cardinal—and then noticed a handsome pileated woodpecker near the top of one of the big oaks. It flew before I had a chance to focus.
 Redbird. A bit chillier than yesterday, seemed like—maybe mid-30s (F) early—but just as unseasonably gorgeous.
The peculiar jogger tiptoed by at his usual hour, and I counted the crows waiting for him: nine again. This time no herring gulls descended on whatever it is he sprinkles in the motel parking lot across the road. Just the crows.
I didn’t mention it a couple days ago, but when in Warren Village photographing Barrow’s goldeneyes along busy Route 90, I thought for sure I heard the call of an American woodcock. And it’s not like I’m unsure of what they sound like—I’m pretty damn familiar with woodcocks. However, it was midday, and it was early March, and I just couldn’t get the sound I heard to fit with the scene I occupied at that moment. I attributed it to some crazy vehicular sound on the highway or something.
Well, come to find out woodcock sightings are coming in from across the state. Heard calling and displaying in southern Maine last night, heard migrating nearer here… When you combine those sightings with the appearance of turkey vultures in Camden, seen by my birding friend Kristen (there can be no better authority), and my friend Shannon’s report of ospreys arriving in Camden today—well, you’ve just got to wonder what the hell’s going on. I understand the recent earthquake in Chile slowed the earth’s rotation by a few milliseconds or something. Perhaps it knocked the planet off its axis altogether.
 Common goldeneye. Speaking of axes, while checking out the early birds this morning, I couldn’t help noticing the moon’s waning crescent caught in the branches of some trees. And tonight, low in the western quadrant of a midnight blue sky, the Evening Star.
But a few hours earlier, I walked the breakwater. I had to. For one thing, to get my blood moving while watching ducks, and for another, to look for a particular chunk of granite out in the middle of the nearly-mile-long structure. I’d seen this chunk a few weeks ago—a slender, light-colored stone that stretched clear across the width of the breakwater, a distance of some fifteen feet. Then I heard last weekend that it’s the only such block out there, and that it marks the mid-point. I wanted to find it again.
I met a couple ladies about half-way out and mentioned this stone to them. But we agreed we’d already walked more than half-way out by then so I turned my attention to the usual ducks—common eider, common goldeneye, red-breasted merganser, bufflehead, long-tailed duck. The ducks seemed anxious. I saw many flying, including great strings of long-tails far out over the bay. Eiders flew. Mergansers. A solitary goldeneye. I imagine their contemplating migration.
 Long stone. On my return trip, I found the stone. Sure enough, it seemed about half-way.
Back on shore, I watched a handful of buffleheads dive and dive. Too soon, they will be gone.
Today’s List
Tufted titmouse
Mourning dove
Northern cardinal
Black-capped chickadee
American crow
Downy woodpecker
Pileated woodpecker
Herring gull
Ring-billed gull
Rock pigeon
Bufflehead
Common goldeneye
Common eider
Red-breasted merganser
Common loon
Long-tailed duck
 Buffleheads.
Tags: American crow, black-capped chickadee, bufflehead, common goldeneye, common loon, downy woodpecker, herring gull, long-tailed duck, mourning dove, Northern cardinal, pileated woodpecker, red-breasted merganser, ring-billed gull, rock pigeon, tufted titmouse
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Tuesday, March 2nd, 2010
 Pair of common loons. What a difference a day makes. Yesterday, wind and rain and an antic surf; today, calm and sun and a tide sublime.
 Horned grebe. The bulk of the day I circled my desk like Mercury about the sun, but I did take a quick trip to Rockport Village, when I confirmed the spring-like nature of the day—and saw a rock pigeon. An early overcast had fled somewhere and the sky was mostly blue.
I thought about heading up Beech Hill, but I couldn’t resist another visit to the breakwater, just to see the contrast. At the parking lot a dozen starlings sat in a bare-limbed tree making subtle, crazy noises. I brought (and wore) my parka, but that was overdressing: what a gorgeous afternoon. The tide was low. A pair of red-breasted mergansers (our local Audubon chapter’s logo bird, by the way) floated off in the cove. A small flock of common goldeneyes bobbed in the gentle surf beyond the flats and boulders a hundred yards or more offshore. A solitary harbor seal perched sidelong on a rock. Common loons on either side of the breakwater.
 Juvenile herring gull. Soon I spotted a little horned grebe—very likely the same bird I’ve seen there two or three times before. It posed for photos. Then I came upon a number of herring gulls picking at urchins on the surface of the great granite stones. And then I heard the inimitable voices of the long-tailed ducks and knew they’d begun their evening flight off shore. Sure enough, swift little groups of them began speeding rapidly around the far end of the breakwater, calling all the way.
 Black guillemot. At the lighthouse end, I stood a while soaking up the gorgeousness of the world and, lo, saw a tiny water bird floating a short distance away. A guillemot in black and white, nearly breeding plumage. Toward the harbor, in the sunset’s reflection, a pair of loons—one dainty, one robust—sailed slowly around the point. Not long after, I heard one call. And again. Again. Again.
And I heard, behind me, a gutteral sound. Looked up. It was a greater black-back, sitting on the peak of the house. It faced the islands. It made pronouncements. I lifted its head and cried.
Walking back I saw several other loons sailing slowly and silently in the reflective harbor. There must’ve been a dozen out there, their plumage also darkening.
 Great black-backed gull. Back at the parking lot, a sparrow flitted across my path. A white-throat from its notes.
It’s winter still, but with spring in the air. What a gentle, sweet-smelling day.
Today’s List
American crow
Herring gull
Rock pigeon
European starling
Red-breasted merganser
Common goldeneye
Long-tailed duck
Common loon
Horned grebe
Black guillemot
Great black-backed gull
White-throated sparrow
 Sunset, Rockland Harbor.
Tags: American crow, black guillemot, common goldeneye, common loon, European starling, great black-backed gull, herring gull, horned grebe, long-tailed duck, red-breasted merganser, rock pigeon, white-throated sparrow
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Sunday, February 21st, 2010
 Hooded mergansers (?). A tufted titmouse was playing the flute again in the trees out back when I awoke this morning. The temperature was much cooler than yesterday—right about freezing—and the sky mostly overcast. A couple of crows foraged for whatever food they could dig up in the brown yard across the road. About mid-morning, I looked out to see a few snowflakes flitting like flies in the air, but soon after the clouds dispersed and the day became partly sunny.
 Hooded mergansers (?). In early afternoon my friend Kristen picked me up to drive us around to a few birding spots between here and Port Clyde. We figured we’d visit some shores.
First stop: the Weskeag. Loads of geese, as yesterday, along with some mallards, black ducks, and gulls. As we were leaving, I caught just a flash of brown floating in the little waterway at the Buttermilk Lane bridge. I was ready just to keep going, but Kristen turned around. Cool that she did, too, because what I spotted on our way back by were six ducks—three black ducks and three female hooded mergansers.
I love hooded mergansers. They used to stop by my quarry pond in Rockland nearly every year. The little hoodeds—smallest of our area’s three merganser species—are so neat and prim and clean-looking. The males’ striking plumage makes them seem a bit like dandies, but the heads and crests of the females are a such beautiful shade of brown. As we walked off into the spongy marsh, the black ducks took off, but I snapped off a series of photos of the mergansers. As I did, Kristen spotted an adult bald eagle soaring in the blue above what must’ve seemed a pretty fruitful hunting ground. Perhaps the eagle’s arrival is what spooked the little ducks, which took off on rapid wings.
We saw a raven en route down the St. George Peninsula, but not much else. The wind was high at Marshall Point Light—the view there of Monhegan Island made me nostalgic for last fall’s migration trip—but apparently no birds were crazy enough to be hanging round this wide, wild choppy chunk of bay.
Still, on our return trip, Kristen did notice a solitary red-breasted merganser (our common winter species) diving near the shore.
 Adult bald eagle. On a lark, we headed down Drift Inn Road. At a little turnout with a water view, we stopped and scanned the tide. Right away I noticed a pair of goldeneyes floating a couple hundred yards offshore. By this time the sun was bright, and I thought sure the female’s bill was orange, and the male’s telltale facial spot seemed particularly pronounced. I was ready to pronounce them Barrow’s goldeneyes, in fact, though Kristen disagreed. Then she pointed out another duck nearby, and (eager to make some sort of pronouncement) I pronounced this one a female common merganser. A long diving duck with a narrow bill and a lovely coppery head—what else could it be?
After consulting the field guide, we agreed that’s what this new duck was: a common merganser. But clearly the goldeneyes were also common and not the Barrow’ses I had wished for.
On the way back we saw a mourning dove and some buffleheads. But our three merganser species are what made the trip. Certainly a first for me.
Today’s List
Tufted titmouse
American crow
Black-capped chickadee
Herring gull
Ring-billed gull
Rock pigeon
Canada goose
Mallard
Black duck
Hooded merganser
Bald eagle
Common raven
Rock pigeon
Red-breasted merganser
Common loon
Common goldeneye
Common merganser
Mourning dove
Bufflehead
 Monhegan Island from Marshall Point.
Tags: American crow, bald eagle, black duck, black-capped chickadee, bufflehead, Canada goose, common goldeneye, common loon, common merganser, common raven, herring gull, hooded merganser, mallard, mourning dove, red-breasted merganser, ring-billed gull, rock pigeon, tufted titmouse
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Wednesday, February 17th, 2010
 Pastels. Not a flake of snow. Not a trace of fresh new white stuff. Disappointing for this first-year snowshoer. Another dry, mild day—a sky of partly blue, partly gray. Chickadees were active first thing. Playful, flirtatious, randy. I watched them for a while from the deck.
 Horned grebe. But the big news today is that I got a pair of these yesterday—and would be trying them out for the first time. I can’t seem to get out of the office before 4 p.m., damn it—though I did rush out briefly about midday to take care of some errands and tick the usual town birds off my list (herring gull, ring-billed gull, rock pigeon). By the time I started for the breakwater, the air hung still, the temperature had bumped up into the 40s (F), and the brimming tide had began to fall.
First sighting: a group of common eiders mingling with herring gulls near the harbor shore. In the little cove beyond the breakwater’s base, a gaggle of red-breasted mergansers with their punk hair-dos argued and splashed. In a calm patch beyond the tidal rocks, a raft of black ducks—along with a couple mallards—floated calmly; beyond them, a little group of common goldeneyes.
 Harbor seal. Then I saw the harbor seal. The seal had reared from the water’s surface and looked to be mounting something. A tidal rock? Another seal? After a few minutes, it turned out to be a rock just about even with the water’s surface—but the seal kept slipping off. It would swim up again and begin flopping around on its blubbery sides, apparently trying for a good balance. I like how the seals lounge there with their heads and hind flippers raised, looking at a distance like a sort of disembodied smile.
And then I saw the grebe. A horned grebe, in approximately the same place I saw one a couple days ago—possibly the same bird. Just a slight, solitary diving creature with a little lump of a body and a long, thin neck. Reflected, it looked sort of like an andiron. I stopped to watch the grebe a while.
 Great black-backed gull. The length of the breakwater I walked swiftly. Not a lot to see out there—oh, a couple of loons, some gulls in flight, a great cormorant in the waves. A breeze had picked up, but it didn’t feel too uncomfortable. And my new binoculars are, well, awesome. And I didn’t even have to pay $1,000 to $2,000 for ’em. (I’m saving up for one of these.) On the return trip, the sun passed beyond the horizon over Rockland, and in the opposite direction the bay and sky turned pink and purple and calm. A seal lay on a rock. A small flotilla of mergansers splashed and skirmished. The day died calmly, beautifully, quietly. And for the first I heard the voice of the horned grebe.
It was riveting. High, thin, with a slight waver. Brief. It reminded me of what might’ve been the whinny of a tiny horse. Wholly unexpected. Truly mesmerizing.
 Red-breasted merganser. Tonight I read up on grebes a while. I’ve seen several species. Pied-billed grebes used to frequent a quarry pond I owned. Eared grebes tend to stick to the western part of the continent, and horned grebes—and wear their fancy nesting plumage—far to the north of here. They tend to float silently in winter. I wonder why this particular bird decided to call—three, four times, at least—when I saw no other member of its species there to hear.
(Did you know a group of grebes is known as a “water dance.”)
Today’s List
Black-capped chickadee
American crow
Herring gull
Rock pigeon
Ring-billed gull
Common eider
Great black-backed gull
Red-breasted merganser
Common goldeneye
Black duck
Mallard
Horned grebe
Common loon
Great cormorant
Bufflehead
 Gloaming.
Tags: American crow, black duck, black-capped chickadee, bufflehead, common eider, common goldeneye, common loon, great black-backed gull, great cormorant, herring gull, horned grebe, mallard, red-breasted merganser, ring-billed gull, rock pigeon
Posted in Lists, Observations | 2 Comments »
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| 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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