What a breakwater's for.
I got up about the same time as usual, showered as usual, had my usual breakfast. Took a mug of coffee out onto the deck long enough to get a feel for the temperature—somewhere in the 20s (F)—take a couple deep breaths of morning air, and listen for early birds. Lately I’ve heard chickadees, crows, titmice. Today, under an overcast sky, nothing.
Then, it being a weekday, I headed down to my desk to get some work done. Refilled my coffee mug a couple of times.
Juvenile red-shouldered hawk.
In afternoon, I caught sight of the jogger from yesterday and stopped to watch his routine. Sure enough, before he’d veered even a few feet off the shoulder, six or eight crows showed up. A couple perched on the electrical service line, a couple flew low over his head in lazy circles. The man reached into a pocket, paused, sprinkled something on the old snow, then immediately started back for the road. The crows didn’t wait—they all fluttered down, grabbed their shares, and flapped off behind the motel buildings. The jogger didn’t even turn around to watch the birds make off with whatever snack he’d left them. I thought that odd.
But mostly I marveled at how swiftly and efficiently this little scene took place, as if tightly choreographed. Clearly, the crows expected the jogger, and the jogger knew they’d be there. I had to wonder: how long had this been going on right outside my window? Seems I would’ve noticed.
Crows are smart birds. But it everybody appreciates a the small rewards of a comfortable routine.
Take the red-shouldered hawk I first saw yesterday. Turns out the bird had been hanging around the motels up the hill for a couple weeks or more, so said their proprietor. I took a drive up there again today—and right away spotted the bird across Route 1 from where I’d seen it yesterday, perched on a fat utility line, peering down at a snow-free hillside, checking for prey. I thought about how this young hawk had apparently tasted enough success to grow fond of its little patch of ground. Familiar. Why abandon a good thing?
Long-tailed ducks.
Ironically, most birds in these parts are migratory. Which means they’re accustomed to dropping out of the sky at odd hours into unfamiliar landscapes with lurking, secret dangers. Then again, doesn’t “accustomed” suggest “routine”?
On my way back from the post office at about 4 p.m. (about the time I tend to get antsy) I steered down to the breakwater parking lot. It occurred to me that lately I’ve been alternating between the wind-whipped granite and the woods of Beech Hill. Both hikes take about an hour, offer long views and a measure of solitude, and help me ditch my ego for the natural world—albeit in wildly different ecosystems. I like them both. I like switching off. It’s familiar. Comfortable.
Well, maybe not all that comfortable today: with another giant blizzard dumping snow on territories to the south of us, the outside edge of that great pinwheel must’ve been whipping our own rockbound shore—because a stout, steady northeast wind came chugging across the bay. Wasn’t so bad on the way out (except for the realization that it’d be a bitch on the return trip). A common loon was swimming on the protected, harbor side—its fruitful winter hangout—and a ring-billed gull flew up and down the breakwater, as no doubt it’d learned to do. Out at the end, I spied a little flotilla of common eiders riding waves on the weather side as if surfing. Several fast flocks of long-tailed ducks flew out toward the islands.
Turn one way and see the relative calm of a tidal harbor; turn the other and feel the brunt of the angry wind and the frigid, whipping, splattering salt spray.
My face was numb when I stepped off that last granite block. But I didn’t mind. Something about the urgent feel of the evaporative-cooled, 33-degree (F) air, and the steady wind, and the crashing, thumping, thunderous sound of the ocean churning. There’s a thrill out there in weather like that, a heightened sense of being alive.
Today’s List
American crow
Red-shouldered hawk
Herring gull
Mallard
Black duck
Red-breasted merganser
Common loon
Ring-billed gull
Common eider
Long-tailed duck
Great black-backed gull
Tags: American crow, black duck, common eider, common loon, great black-backed gull, herring gull, long-tailed duck, mallard, red-breasted merganser, red-shouldered hawk, ring-billed gull
