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January 11, 2007 - Finally, a final boat tripThe Suffolk Times • January 11, 2007 • 5A Far left: This little horned grebe is seen in its dull winter plum- age throughout the winter in our bays and Sound. Come spring, the male changes into a more colorful attire to help in his court- ing game. Left: This handsome oldsquaw duck spends much of its winter feeding in our local bays. It nests along the Arctic coast. Because these ducks often fish in deep wa- ter, they sometimes get caught and die in fishermen's nets. Finally, a final boat trip Most boats had already been taken out of the water, but not oum We had left our little Boston Whaler in, in hopes of getting one more spin around the bay before calling it quits Things just hadn't been right for hauling her out. In the past when we had taken her out, it had usual- ly been cold and miserable. Not FOCU$ so this year, with temperatures in ON the 40s and 50s. NATURE We seemed to have forgotten by Paul the past and StOUtenburgh were just wait- ing for the day we could say, "Let's go, this will be our last chance." Seeing the boat had not been used for a couple of weeks and it was a little on the cool side, the motor was hard to start. This, coupled with the fact that the battery had finally drained itself down to where it didn't want to do its part, meant we were forced to use the pull cord to start her up. Evidently the manufacturer had anticipated this problem and had built the old- fashioned pull cord into the engine. Seven or eight pulls and off she went. Now we were ready for our pre - Christmas- dinner outing around the bay. As we headed out of the creek the white moorings were a reminder of summer days when boats of all sorts were tied to them The only activity in the creek was that of 10 or more mute swans Half had their heads and long necks below the surface of the mirrored water. I could imagine their searching heads probing for the pa- per- thin green algae called sea lettuce. During the summer this algae grows profusely in our rich, nitrogen -laden waters In some creeks it is so thick it actually inhibits boat movement. Swans have a special horny -tipped bill that enables them to root out aquatic plants with ease. It's this rood the swans ingest in their daily living that contributes to the pollution of our creeks through their waste. Remem- ber, what goes in must come out. What part those graceful white swans play in the complex food chain of our creek is anyone's guess Mute swans are not indigenous to North America. Originally, they were brought over here from the "old coun- try" as symbols of wealth and prestige. They didn't stay put, but moved into new territory where through the years they have multiplied, so much so that today they are a common sight throughout our eastern seaboard. Occasionally a true native swan visits us; it's called a trumpeter swan and comes from the west and north of us. Its home range is inland. You can tell the trumpeter swan from the mute swan by its straight neck and all -black hil I, in contrast to the usually graceful- ly curved neck and colorful knobbed bill of the mute swan. The osprey platforms in the creeks and out along the bay edge stand as si- lent sentinels of the past. Most ospreys long ago started on their meandering migration to warmer waters where the fish they live on are more plenti- ful. Yet, there are always reports of an occasional straggler that somehow is able to find fish in January or Febru- ary, but even those loners will head south when the waters that hold their survival food freeze over. It felt good to be on the water again. The little wake we left behind rocked the buoys as we passed by them. On one buoy was a cormorant. Months ago great flights of cormorants could be seen following the coastline on their migration south. In some areas where their numbers have increased dramati- cally, the cormorants have raised havoc by harvesting the food supply the com- mercial fishermen count on for their livelihood. The increase in their num- bers has created an economic disaster in those places But today we were out for our last outing on the bay and little thought was given to such problems. At the mouth of the creek I eased the throttle forward. The boat started its climb; now we were planing. There was no wind so the boat performed at its best. Ahead small groups of oldsquaw ducks and scoters rose from the sur- face of the bay. Occasion- ally an unseen duck would Sitting in the pop up from its dive below. quiet of the Bewildered, it would imme- diately dive down into the winter bay, we safety of the water. If it had toasted popped up far enough away other to from us, it would escape by taking wing and peeling off good iH to our left or right. At one point an oldsquaw duck flew directly in front of us and stayed there. Its flight must have been at least 30 to 35 mph. As soon as it saw how useless it was to try to outfly us, it dropped down into the water below, only to pop up minutes later far off to our left. We had been moving right along and at one point a zephyr of wind took my hat off and left it floating be- hind us.1 quickly spun around hoping to rescue it before it sank. When we were about upon it, I cut the switch and we drifted up to my sorry- looking hat. How quiet it was out there, as we sat idle in the middle of the bay; far off we could hear the calling of old - squaws. Were they talking about us? Where had they come from? Would we have the pleasure of their compa- ny throughout the coming winter? As we sat there in the middle of the bay, not 50 feet away a common loon broke the surface of the water. It looked surprised. Gone was its beauti- ful summer dress of black and white; gone was its striking white collar. Now it wore its drab winter black. It was close enough that I each could see it blink its eye as the it dove to the safety of the water below. e: Our only other winter visitor was the little horned grebe. My dad used to call them "hell - divers" It is said that the grebe can dive so fast it can beat the shot of the duck hunter. It spends most of its life gleaning the bottom of our bays and Sound for tidbits of food that some- how sustain it. All these "sea ducks" have a special niche where they search for food. Sitting in the quiet of the winter bay, we toasted each other to the "good life" and headed back home to enjoy Christmas dinner with the family. Suffolk Times photos by Paul Stoutenburgh How majestic the mute swan is. These swans are not native but were Intro- duced into our area as a sigh of wealth and importance in the middle of the 18th century. As long as the waters don't freeze over, the swans will usually make it through our winter, surviving on the algae we call sea lettuce. jkllftt V LUMBER CURIF "We Deliver" Serving the entire North Fork 325 -0303 www.speonklumber.com Featuring high - quality Andersen® products Now members or the Andersen Dealer Service Network The Suffolk Times • January 11, Sitting in the quiet of the winter bay, w toasted each other to the `good life: out of the water, but not ours. We had left our little Boston Whaler in, in hopes of getting one more spin around the bay before calling it quits. Things just hadn't been right for hauling her out. In the past when we had taken he out, it had usual- ly been cold and miserable. Not Focus so this year, with temperatures in the 40s and 50s. We seemed to have forgotten the past and wait- ON NATURE by Paul Stoutenburgh Fitn 11 a final 9 boat tri e could say, "Let's go, this will be our st chance." Seeing the boat had not been used ir a couple of weeks and it was little on the cool side, the motor as hard to start. This, coupled with .e fact that the battery had finally -ained itself down to where it didn't ant to do its part, meant we were rced to use the pull cord to start her Evidently the manufacturer had ticipated this problem and had bi e old- fashioned pull cord into the gine. Seven or eight pulls and off e went. Now we were ready for of Far left: This little horned grebe is seen in its dull winter plum. age throughout the winter in our bays and Sound. Come spring, the male changes into a more colorful attire to help in his court- ing game. Left: This handsome oldsquaw duck spends much of its winter feeding in our local bays. It nests along the Arctic coast. Because these ducks often fish in deep wa- ter, they sometimes get caught and die in fishermen's nets. Yi c- k.nnsimas- Ginner outing around the bay. As we headed out of the creek the white moorings were a reminder of summer days when boats of all sorts were tied to them. The only activity in the creek was that of 10 or more mute swans. Half had their heads and long necks below the surface of the mirrored water. I could imagine their searching heads probing for the pa- per -thin green algae called sea lettuce. During the summer this algae grows profusely in our rich, nitrogen -laden waters. In some creeks it is so thick it actually inhibits boat movement. Swans have a special horny- tipped bill that enables them to root out aquatic plants with ease. It's this food the swans ingest in their daily living that contributes to the pollution of our creeks through their waste. Remem- ber, what goes in must come out. What part those graceful white swans play in the complex food chain of our creek is anyone's guess. iviuie swans are not indigenous to North America. Originally, they were brought over here from the "old coun- try" as symbols of wealth and prestige. They didn't stay put, but moved into new territory where through the years they have multiplied, so much so that today they are a common sight throughout our eastern seaboard. Occasionally a true native swan sits us; it's called a trumpeter swan and comes from the west and north of us. Its home range is inland. You can tell the trumpeter swan from the mute swan by its straight neck and all-black bill, in contrast to the usually graceful- ly curved neck and colorful knobbed bill of the mute swan. The osprey platforms in the creeks and out along the bay edge stand as si- lent sentinels of the past. Most ospreys long ago started on their meandering migration to warmer waters'where the fish they live on are more plenti- ful. Yet, there are always reports of an occasional straggler that somehow is able to find fish in January or Febru- ary, but even those loners will head south when the waters that hold their survival food freeze over. It felt good to be on the water again. The little wake we left behind rocked the buoys as we passed by them. On one buoy was a cormorant. Months ago great flights of cormorants could be seen following the coastline on their How majestic the mute swan is. These swans areknotenative but were Stoutenburgh into our area as a sign of wealth and importance in the middle of the 18th century. As long as the waters don't freeze over, the swans will usually make it through our winter, surviving on the algae we call sea lettuce. their numbers have increased dramati- cally, the cormorants have raised havoc by harvesting the food supply the com- mercial fishermen count on for their livelihood. The increase in their num- bers has created an economic disaster in those places. But today we were out for our last outing on the bay and little thought was given to such problems. At the mouth of the creek I eased the throttle forward. The boat started its climb; now we were planing. There was no wind so the boat performed at its best. Ahead small groups of oldsquaw ducks and scoters rose from the sur- face of the bay. Occasion- ally an unseen duck would POP up from its dive below. Bewildered, it would imme- diately dive down into the safety of the water. If it had popped up far enough away from us, it would escape by taking wing and peeling off to our left or right. At one point an oldsquaw duck flew directly in front of us and stayed there. Its flight must have been at least 30 to 35 mph. As soon as it saw how useless it was to try to outfly us, it dropped Sown into the water below, only to )op up minutes later far off to our left. We had been moving right along ind at one point a zephyr of wind ook my hat off and left it floating be- hind us. I quickly spun around hoping to rescue it before it sank. When we were about upon it, I cut the switch and we drifted up to my sorry- looking hat. How quiet it was out there, as we sat idle in the middle of the bay; far off we could hear the calling of old - squaws. Were they talking about us? Where had they come from? Would we have the pleasure of their compa- ny throughout the coming winter? As we sat there in the middle of the bay, not 50 feet away a common loon broke the surface of the water. It looked surprised. Gone was its beauti- ful summer dress of black and white; gone was its striking white collar. Now it wore its drab winter black. t was close enough that I ould see it blink its eye as t dove to the safety of the ater below. Our only other winter visitor was the little horned grebe. My dad used to call them "hell - divers." It is said that the grebe can dive so fast it can beat the shot of the duck hunter. It spends most of its life gleaning the bottom of our bays and Sound for tidbits of food that some- how sustain it. All these "sea ducks" have a special niche where they search for food. Sitting in the quiet of the winter bay, eve toasted each other to the "good ife" and headed back home to enjoy Mristmas dinner with the family