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Posts Tagged ‘common eider’
Sunday, March 27th, 2011
 House finch. A cloudless morning, again cold, and with a nip of wind. The first bird I saw, while doing breakfast dishes, was a turkey vulture soaring past. I love how they never—or almost never—bother to flap their wings. Took the dog out. Robins around, a house finch calling from somewhere, and I heard house sparrows in the eaves of the place across the road. Since I’ve been seeing so many early birds lately (chickadees, a kinglet once) I thought to bring my camera. And, lo, a male finch flitted up into a nearby branch and began to sing.
 Common loon. Spent much of the day working at my kitchen table. But mid-afternoon seemed a good time to take Jack to the breakwater for a change. I also took my winter jacket, considering the wind and temperature. Glad I did.
Not overly windy right by the shore—buffleheads, a black-backed gull, a few eiders—but not far out the wind came strong from the northwest in great bursts and cascades, roiling the rising Rockland Harbor tide. Saw no birds at all on the harbor side, in fact; but out toward the islands, I spotted more eiders, a couple guillemots (still in winter plumage), a pair of two of red-breasted mergansers, and a solitary loon (in mixed plumage). Only two or three other folks had braved the wind-chill—far fewer than on most sunny Sundays.
Out at the lighthouse end, I saw a pair of long-tailed ducks tossing in the waves. Only a couple herring gulls. Returning, the wind was really whipping, but with the bracing feel of spring. Back at the parking lot, I heard a song sparrow singing off through the riotous air.
 Common eiders (female). It wasn’t enough. We headed directly to Beech Hill.
En route, I saw a mourning dove on a utility line about where I usually do. We wound up again at the wooded trail, where robins again seemed everywhere. And again, about half-way up, a few fox sparrows. Some chickadees. We met a man and two small boys coming down. The man reported hearing turkeys up by the first field. We didn’t hear the turkeys, but returning down the lower trail, on stopping to listen (which we often do), a grouse suddenly burst off through the afternoon shadows.
Nearing the parking lot, I heard herring gulls off to shoreward. Jack noticed them, as well.
Tonight the wind whips still, and the trees up the hill clatter or whistle, depending on whether they’re hardwoods or pines. It’s going to be a cold one.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 4:30 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
 Woodpecker holes. 1. American robin
2. Fox sparrow
3. American crow (voice)
4. Black-capped chickadee
5. Ruffed grouse
6. Herring gull (voice)
Elsewhere
7. Turkey vulture
8. House finch
9. House sparrow
10. Bufflehead
11. Great black-backed gull
12. Common eider
13. Red-breasted merganser
14. Common loon
15. Black guillemot
16. Long-tailed duck
17. Song sparrow
18. Mourning dove
 The breakwater.
Tags: American crow, American robin, black guillemot, black-capped chickadee, bufflehead, common eider, common loon, fox sparrow, great black-backed gull, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, long-tailed duck, mourning dove, red-breasted merganser, ruffed grouse, song sparrow, turkey vulture
Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
Saturday, February 19th, 2011
 The breakwater. A really bright morning, this one. Sunny—but a little chilly. And there’d come a bit of wind. Still, that didn’t deter the resident crows from making their morning rounds, nor the titmouse from singing its cheery spring song, nor a house finch from doing likewise from across the way. Thanks to the recent thaw, good-sized sections of brown lawn lie exposed, but when taking Jack out to pee it’s all I can do to keep from slipping on the ice between them.
 Herring gull. The temperature topped out in the low 30s (F), I’d guess. And the wind rose—even grew just a little wild. Come afternoon, I decided on a whim that Jack and I would walk the breakwater for a change.
All right, yes, I suppose a little touch of craziness went into that decision. I wanted a taste of the wild wind.
Well, I got my taste. Oh, heading out wasn’t so bad—was rather nice even, with the wind at our backsides, moving us along, leaving me free to check out three species of gull, five species of duck, a loon, a guillemot. Never mind the fact that the sun’s blazing orb hovering over Rockland Harbor discouraged glances in that direction. There’d been only a couple of vehicles in the parking lot (odd for a sunny Saturday), and we met exactly three people walking back. Tightly bundled people. When the friendly old gent I see out there often said hello through the scarf covering his face, I commented that Jack and I were doing the easy part of the trip—headed out. He laughed and wholeheartedly agreed.
 Urchin. At the end, far out in the harbor, sheltered by the lighthouse, we lingered a while as long-tailed ducks began their swift afternoon commute back out to the islands (or the open sea, or wherever the heck they go each afternoon). I love watching those little pied guys on the wing. Meantime, a guillemot in his spring tuxedo dove in the chop just off the riprap.
Then I drew up two hoods, zipped up my heavy down jacket, pulled on my gloves, and we started back. The cold wind fought us, slowing our progress noticeably. Both Jack and I had to lean into it. A strong, steady northwest wind, churning up whitecaps in the harbor. A female merganser floating solo on that side nearly sailed off the tips of the waves.
Wasn’t too bad, though. Only my forehead got painfully cold, and Jack didn’t seem to mind much.
Driving back out Samoset Road, we came upon an elderly lady standing outside of her stopped car inspecting a flat rear tire. Pulled over and changed her tire for her. Granted, it took a little more effort than I figured—those nuts were snug, and it took a swift kick to get the wheel off—but I managed with only a bloody fingernail to show for it. Along with profuse thanks from the really pleasant owner of the car.
 Black guillemot. Back home, tonight, the wind is roaring. The temperature’s now in the teens, I bet. Not so perfect conditions for an evening stroll.
Rockland Breakwater List
Beginning at 3:45 p.m., I walked the length of the breakwater.
1. Mallard
2. Herring gull
3. Great black-backed gull
4. Black duck
5. Common eider
6. Red-breasted merganser
7. Long-tailed duck
8. Ring-billed gull
9. Black guillemot
10. Common loon
Elsewhere
11. American crow
12. Tufted titmouse
13. House finch
14. Mourning dove
 Sunset over Rockland.
Tags: American crow, black duck, black guillemot, common eider, common loon, great black-backed gull, herring gull, house finch, long-tailed duck, mallard, mourning dove, red-breasted merganser, ring-billed gull, tufted titmouse
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Saturday, January 22nd, 2011
 Bohemian waxwings. Sunlight streamed. I heard a sweet bird call. The spring song of a titmouse. Rolled out of bed.
 Snowshoe track. Plenty of snow to shovel after yesterday’s storm. In fact, I spent more than an hour at it—with an intermission even. At one point, I paused and looked up to see about a dozen crows sitting silently high in the bare branches of an oak, watching me.
Maybe I’m crazy, but I love to shovel snow.
Did a little desk work but then got antsy to get outside on this glorious day. Grabbed camera, binoculars, snowshoes, Jack, and off we went.
Approaching Beech Hill I looked up at the summit, as I always do, and saw a couple of people nearing the top. I plowed into the snow-filled parking lot and pulled on my snowshoes. A chickadee called as Jack and I headed up along an amazingly well-carved snowshoe track—a lot of people had clearly succumbed to the lure of the hill on such remarkably lovely winter day. But the track diverted from the one Jack and I created yesterday, I noticed: it headed over the tops of tall drifts whereas we’d followed the low spots. Then again, some of the drifts hadn’t yet grown that tall a day ago.
 Winter weed. On the way up we passed snow waves, snow swirls, and tiny snow sculptures, put there by the wind. At Beech Nut we met our fellow hikers and exchanged greetings. Then I thought I saw the quick shadow of a flying bird on the snow. Sure enough, a small bird suddenly lit at the edge of a bare patch of ground just in front of the hut. A lark, I thought (and said aloud)—but I’d never been so close to a lark and right away began to have second thoughts. Turns out the couple were fellow birders who had been watching a pair of the little guys come and go and had already checked lark, longspur, and other winter species on a Sibley’s app. Since the bird had apparently flown around back of Beech Nut, Jack and I headed that way—and I spotted it at the far corner. It called. A lark, I was sure of it. Probably an immature bird.
We returned and visited with our new friends for a while, discussed birds, cameras, Lyme Disease. I hope to meet them up there again someday.
 Bohemian waxwings. After they headed back down, Jack and I stuck around a bit. I suppose I had hopes of seeing the larks again (missing a photo had left me crestfallen)—but instead, I heard a burbling from down the eastern slope. I saw a large flock of birds circling there. Bohemian waxwings! I’d heard from my friend Kristen (who keeps the list) that Bohemians had not yet been counted among Beech Hill birds, and there must’ve been a hundred of them, at least. But too far away for photos.
On a lark (ha), I said, “C’mon, Jack,” and we set off down beyond the little spruce grove and right away found ourselves in waist-deep snow. (My waist, that is—Jack was essentially swimming.) But we somehow broke free and got close enough for a few distant photos. The birds made a lot of noise, rose in two groups, and spun across the too-blue sky in pulsating, undulating flocks, like a miracle.
 Beech Nut. Later, in town, I saw herring gulls, pigeons, starlings—and a little flotilla of eiders out in Clam Cove. And the southwest sky lit up like a faraway fire after the sun went down.
Tonight, the big, waning moon rises behind a moving ripple of clouds.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 2:45 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
2. Horned lark
3. Bohemian waxwing
Elsewhere
4. Tufted titmouse
5. American crow
6. Blue jay
7. House sparrow
8. Herring gull
9. Common eider
10. Rock pigeon
11. European starling
Tags: American crow, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, Bohemian waxwing, common eider, European starling, herring gull, horned lark, house sparrow, rock pigeon, tufted titmouse
Posted in Lists, Observations | 2 Comments »
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| Bird Report is a (sometimes intermittent) record of the birds I encounter while hiking, see while driving, or spy outside my window. —Brian Willson |
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