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.