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Posts Tagged ‘great cormorant’
Sunday, January 24th, 2010
 Long-tailed duck pair. I slept a little late this morning. The sun had been up a little while when I first looked out to see a mostly overcast day with a few strips of morning blue. The temperature hung a few degrees (F) above freezing, and the still air seemed nearly warm. Crows flapped and cawed and otherwise social-networked, as usual. And my friend Kristen and I decided to walk the Rockland breakwater.
 Two seals. Only trouble was, the tide would be near low—which concerned me some. In my experience, you see more different birds when the bay is brimming and waves are crashing against the windward rocks. Purple sandpipers, for one, I’ve never seen at low tide. And the diving birds can get nearer the breakwater itself and so provide better picture-taking opportunities. OK, yeah, I suppose I’m a photo snob. But as we descended from the parking lot onto the beach, right away our beach-combing instincts kicked in: little snails, smooth black rocks, coarse and interesting textures. A solitary common goldeneye floated a ways offshore, and group of buffleheads bobbed in a pool nearby.
And as soon as we climbed onto the stones of the granite structure itself, I scanned the bay and spotted seals. Another sight you won’t see at high tide, the seals. They like to relax on the tops of the small rocks that low tide exposes. There were a pair of very light-colored seals on one stone—I don’t know my pinnipeds well, and so wondered if they might be grays or some other species but decided they were simply light-colored harbor seals.
 Long-tailed duck at takeoff. Still there were plenty of diving birds, too. Common loons, red-breasted mergansers, a black guillemot, and several little collections of long-tailed ducks. The long-tails, in fact, provided ample entertainment—preening, profiling, giving out their little distinctive three-note yodels. I even got their yodels stuck in my head, after deciding I’d like to devote to long-tails a movement of a symphony I’d like someday to write. If you’ve heard these yammering ducks, you know the sound I mean. (In the height of politically incorrectness, the species was for years called “oldsquaw” because of the gossipy nature of the sound.) But today I realized their calls amount to the rising components of a perfect major chord. And so I got ’em stuck in my head—and must remember to bring my digital recorder next time.
 Great cormorant. Also on the breakwater with us today were three great cormorants. They’d perch on the stones ahead of us, and when we’d get to close, they’d fly into the harbor or veer around to another part of the breakwater. A number of times we caused them to fly. I got a couple photos.
The air today stayed as still as night air, and it never dipped below freezing. Our walk was my warmest out there since last summer. Turns out low-tide ain’t all that bad.
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Tonight, with temperatures in the mid-thirties (F), it has begun to rain. It’s drizzly now, but heavier rain—and wild winds—are forecast for tomorrow. Rain in mid-winter always discombobulates me. Just seems weird.
I wonder what the long-tailed ducks are up to.
Today’s List
American crow
Herring gull
Mallard
Ring-billed gull
Bufflehead
Common goldeneye
Black duck
Common loon
Common eider
Black guillemot
Long-tailed duck
Great cormorant
 Low tide still life.
Tags: American crow, black duck, black guillemot, bufflehead, common eider, common goldeneye, common loon, great cormorant, herring gull, long-tailed duck, mallard, ring-billed gull
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Friday, January 22nd, 2010
 Sunset over Rockland. Another brilliantly sunny day today. In morning, from the back deck, I heard the voices of crow, chickadee, titmouse, downy woodpecker, and American robin. Always nice to have winter robins around. After a busy, fruitful Friday, I opted for the easy walk: the Rockland breakwater, just a few minutes way. I didn’t get there until about 4 p.m.
 Herring gull. From the Clam Cove, just across the way, I knew it was a high tide. (I could’ve guessed this from the time of my view of the moon yesterday.) And when I got my first look at the breakwater, I knew it’d be an invigorating walk; its harborside waters spread calm and reflective; its bayside waters churned with whitecaps thanks to a robust northeast wind. Going out wouldn’t be so bad, but coming back might be a bit nippy. The temperature was about 30 degrees (F).
Right away I flushed a tight flock of black ducks, which wheeled over to the choppy side, touched down, and bobbed dramatically in the waves. In the western lee, a pair of red-breasted mergansers sailed and dove. In the eastern chop, a common rode it out. A pair of loons cruised the western surface, alternately dipping their faces into the water to scan the bottom—or at least I suppose that’s what they’re doing. A herring gull stood on a granite block ahead of me, looking bored.
 Purple sandpiper. I put up my hood and picked up my pace. Three times on the way out I failed to notice herring gulls on the stones directly in front of me until I’d gotten maybe thirty feet away, when they took wing, startling me. After the third, I began scanning for gulls—and right away missed three rock-colored purple sandpipers on the stones directly in front of me, keeping away from the wind. They hurried left, to the east, and flitted over onto the surf-washed riprap, twittering the way they do.
Near the lighthouse I spotted a greater black-backed gull, just standing there. I stopped and lifted my camera, but by then it’d gotten too dark for anything but grainy, blurry photos. Off on the bay side, a great cormorant bobbed a while, then vanished beneath the swell.
At the end of the breakwater, protected by the lighthouse, things seemed calm and benign. I watched a tight-packed cluster of buffleheads speed past on rapid wings. A pair of common eiders followed a similar route, but their wingbeats seemed leisurely by comparison. I climbed the steps to the upper level of the structure and got some shots of Beech Hill—my other favorite walk—standing bare below a pinkish sky, directly down the line of stones.
 Beech Hill. I also counted ring-bills and Bonapartes, but conditions weren’t the best. On the way back, in fact, even with my hood up, I marveled at rush and crash of the wind-whipped waves to my right. I got thinking about how, lacking life on earth—no trees, no beasts, no birds—there’d be very little sound or motion if not for the voice of the sea.
By happy coincidence, a vivid red sky appeared over Rockland after the sun went down. I took a few photos—well, more than a few—but they don’t come close to actually being there.
Today’s List
1. American crow
2. Black-capped chickadee
3. Tufted titmouse
4. Downy woodpecker
5. American robin
6. Herring gull
7. Black duck
8. Ring-billed gull
9. Red-breasted merganser
10. Common loon
11. Purple sandpiper
12. Great cormorant
13. Greater black-backed gull
14. Bufflehead
15. Common eider
 Sunset, Rockland Breakwater, Rockland, Maine, 22 January 2010.
Tags: American crow, American robin, black duck, black-capped chickadee, common loon, downy woodpecker, great cormorant, herring gull, purple sandpiper, red-breasted merganser, ring-billed gull, tufted titmouse
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Sunday, January 17th, 2010
 Blue Hill, from the Rockland Breakwater. Today dawned overcast—and twenty degrees colder than yesterday. Appropriately for this time of year, the temperature never made it out of the 20s (F) all day. But I had a hankering for a little birding-slash-exercise and so in early-afternoon, seeing the motionless anemoter, thought, I’ll just bundle up and walk the breakwater, see a few birds. I mean, it’s so close by, and all.
 Black guillemot. I knew I’d be contending with some wind—there’s always wind when you’re nearly a mile out in open water—and I dressed, well, appropriately for this time of year: warm coat over hooded sweatshirt, scarf, insulated gloves. I arrived to find at least half a dozen vehicles in the parking lot, so the chill air hadn’t deterred any Sunday walkers. Down the little escarpment and along the water’s edge all felt warm enough. Up onto the granite blocks, though, and the ocean breeze picked up a tad. No problem. About half-way out is when my fingers started going numb.
 Purple sandpiper. I couldn’t help but contrast my benumbed fingers with the naked pink feet of the herring gulls standing on the stones, or the red legs of the guillemot paddling in the frigid harbor. Common loons and great cormorants submerged themselves for a minute or more in the chilly depths—emerging, in the case of one loon, with a crab that proved a challenge to gulp down. I counted perhaps five or six loons, in fact, each sailing lazily along like a riverboat, plenty cozy in their miraculously patterned feathers. The long-tailed ducks, too. And the common eiders. And red-breasted mergansers. I even watched a pair of purple sandpipers fairly frolick in the bubbly swell, with seemingly no circulation troubles in their tiny legs and toes.
Ducks got feathers, seals got blubber. Before figuring out how to wear the skins of animals, we humans never saw this latitude in winter, that’s for sure—or if we did, we surely died in a hurry from cold.
 Herring gull. On the walk back, I had a tail-wind. More like a tail-breeze, really, but it made a difference. I even took off my gloves to snap a photo of a tourist couple from an Asian country, perhaps Japan. Back in the parking lot, I noticed license plates from New York and Massachusetts. The Maine coast gets visitors even at a wintry time of year.
Today’s List
1. American crow
2. Herring gull
3. Common eider
4. Red-breasted merganser
5. Ring-billed gull
6. Common loon
7. Black guillemot
8. Great cormorant
9. Long-tailed duck
10. Canada goose
11. Bufflehead
12. Mallard
 Tidal rocks.
Tags: American crow, black guillemot, bufflehead, Canada goose, common eider, common loon, great cormorant, herring gull, long-tailed duck, mallard, red-breasted merganser, ring-billed gull
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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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