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6 September 2010
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Rockport, Maine, USA
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Posts Tagged ‘horned grebe’
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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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 »
Monday, February 15th, 2010
 Horned grebe. I’d only been awake a few minutes when I heard it: the clear, sweet, repeated notes of a northern cardinal. Mid-way through February, the day after Valentine’s, and this bird clearly had love on his mind. The song continued for more than five minutes, at least. I sort of got a little horny just by association.
But it’s still winter. High 20s (F) early, up into the mid-30s late. Crows stalked the half-bare yards, as usual, occasionally letting out their four- or five-note calls.
 Penobscot Bay. I didn’t get out, really, until the usual time, about 4 p.m. Decided on the breakwater today. Above freezing still, and only a little wind from the northwest. A couple cars were in the lot, and sixteen mallards were at the shore. Also a couple buffleheads and several herring gulls. About half-tide, and receding.
The harbor side held the rougher water for a change; the bay spread out like an enormous mirror. Right away I spotted three or four harbor seals on their customary rocks a few hundred yards out. Black ducks and red-breasted mergansers in the protected cove. Then I spotted the grebe. A solitary horned grebe diving very near the breakwater. I spent a lot of time watching it and taking pictures. Such an amazing-looking bird—even in its relatively plain winter plumage. Its red eyes sort of mesmerize.
Black-backed, herring, and ring-billed gulls patrolled the granite stones, up and back. They seemed particularly interested in urchins. They kept close watch as more intertidal real estate slowly emerged. On the harbor side I saw a pair of long-tailed ducks—and only a pair. Surprisingly, there were no loons.
 Great cormorant. Nearing the lighthouse I surprised a great cormorant perched on seaweed near the waterline. It stuck around for a portrait.
Returning, the wind picked up some, and some chop appeared in the bay. It occurred to me I’d seen neither common loons nor common eiders, so I scanned the water for a while—and sure enough spotted about a half-dozen of the latter. It wasn’t until I’d covered perhaps three-fourths of the return trip that I got my loon. A solo bird, harbor side. The loon, like the mergansers, kept plunking its face into the water, looking for grub.
The grebe was still diving in about the same place, though now amid newly exposed rocks. At right about 5, with the sun going down behind me, I watched a half-dozen species in a loose assembly dive and emerge, dive and emerge: black ducks, buffleheads, eiders, mergansers, goldeneyes—and a single horned grebe.
Today’s List
Northern cardinal
American crow
Herring gull
Mallard
Bufflehead
Black duck
Red-breasted merganser
Horned grebe
Great black-backed gull
Ring-billed gull
Common goldeneye
Long-tailed duck
Common eider
Common loon
 Sky over Rockland Harbor.
Tags: American crow, black duck, bufflehead, common eider, common goldeneye, common loon, great black-backed gull, herring gull, horned grebe, long-tailed duck, mallard, Northern cardinal, red-breasted merganser, ring-billed gull
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Saturday, February 6th, 2010
 Bald eagle (and vapor trail). The day dawned cool and bright. OK, cold and bright. Low double-digits (F) to start, with temperatures rising no higher than about 20. A punch-packing wind. I had Saturday errands, during which I saw crows, heard a titmouse, saw gulls and pigeons, got a little shivery.
 Iceland gull and black-headed gull. My friend Kristen had some time today, so we decided to make a quick circuit of a few winter birding hot-spots around the county—hot-spots as determined by local birder extraordinaire Don Reimer. Just as we were leaving my place, I spotted a tight bunch of crows on the wing, all swooping together behind my building.
“Must be a hawk,” I said—or something like that. Got out of the car with my camera just as a big handsome redtail soared up amid the cacaphony of crows. In my hurry to capture the image I hit a stray button, and by the time I was able to focus on the scene, the scene had moved off behind the trees and powerlines and into the bright, yellow, southern sky. Frustrating. Much like the owl last night.
 Nine bald eagles. But we headed down to Owls Head Harbor, where I’d seen iceland and black-headed gulls a few weeks ago. Well, there they were again, riding the frigid, wind-whipped air above the harbor or wading in the chill waters of mid-tide. Buffleheads, loons, crows, herring gulls, ring-bills, mallards, some bird I saw through fieldglasses flapping low along the far flats—it seemed to fly like an ibis or heron but might’ve been a crow. At one point, a huge cloud of crows rose in the distance above the trees. We figured they were returning from harassing some raptor or other. Soon after, an adult bald eagle flapped nonchalantly away from that general vicinity.
Next stop, the Owls Head Light. In the wind-whipped whitecaps below the rugged promontory we saw a horned grebe, a long-tailed duck, and the continual, mirage-like passage of Bonaparte’s gulls—their long wings flapping gracefully and purposefully back and forth above the wild waves. Below, at the frigid wind-blown cove, more Bonaparte’s and a solitary female merganser bobbing near a spray-splashed rock. The giant thicket of rugosa there still held last fall’s rose hips.
 European starling. We headed to the Keag in South Thomaston, where the tide pushes and pulls to and from the Weskeag Marsh via a narrow bridge, and saw a good number of Canada geese. Next we took Buttermilk Lane to the marsh itself, which yielded another redtail keeping watch from a tree at the northern edge and a raven flying solo high in the blue. Just after leaving, I spotted a small bird flitting amid the remnants of the marsh plants alongside the road. We pulled over. The bird flitted out onto the shoulder—some kind of sparrow. Again, my camera failed me. (It looked like a song sparrow.)
Then off to Route 1 in Warren, where Mainely Poultry’s famed winter eagle population seems never to disappoint. We counted a couple dozen of the big birds—most of them adults, seemed like—and saw at least a dozen more off in the trees beyond. Also a couple more redtails and a rabid flock of starlings.
Finally down to Warren’s Main Street, with its bridge across the St. George River. Don has spotted Barrow’s goldeneyes and an American wigeon in the water below the bridge; all we saw were many mallards. Then again, the icy, knifing wind prevented us from truly putting our hearts into it.
At one point, Kristen said, “Blue jay.” I missed the jay. Her list of species today is one bird longer than mine.
Today’s List
American crow
Tufted titmouse
Herring gull
Ring-billed gull
Rock pigeon
Red-tailed hawk
Mallard
Common loon
Bufflehead
Iceland gull
Black-headed gull
Bald eagle
Black-capped chickadee
Horned grebe
Long-tailed duck
Bonaparte’s gull
Red-breasted merganser
Common raven
Sparrow (sp? song?)
European starling
House sparrow
 Owls Head Light.
Tags: American crow, bald eagle, black-capped chickadee, black-headed gull, Bonaparte's gull, bufflehead, common loon, common raven, European starling, herring gull, horned grebe, house sparrow, iceland gull, long-tailed duck, mallard, red-breasted merganser, red-tailed hawk, ring-billed gull, rock pigeon, tufted titmouse
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Saturday, January 30th, 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. 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. 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.
Tags: American crow, black duck, black guillemot, black-capped chickadee, Bonaparte's gull, bufflehead, common eider, common goldeneye, common loon, downy woodpecker, European starling, great cormorant, greater black-backed gull, herring gull, horned grebe, house finch, long-tailed duck, mallard, red-breasted merganser, ring-billed gull
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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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