February 25, 1962 - Snow Bunting
Exclusive Sunday Review Sketch by Dennis Puleston of Brookhaven
Focus
on
Nature
SNOW BUNTING
During the last storm our child-
ren decided it would be fun to
take a walk at night while it was
snowing. I mention this for it's
only by taking advantage of such
situations that -we gain the little
extras out of life.
As usual, there was the mad
rush to the coat closet and then
the frantic shoving and pulling of
boots, coats, gloves, hats and
other winterizing apparel. When
the turmoil was over and the door
shut behind us, we found ourselv-
es outside in a new world of
white that made all the previous
trouble of preparation worthwhile.
We could feel a wonderland be-
ing created about us. Even though
it was dark and cold and still,
there was a magical change tak-
ing place. Here you could slide
and run and frolic in the snow
to your heart's delight.
Our youngest, Roger, demanded
we stop and listen to something
new — the sound of falling snow.
He had found something more ex-
citing than a TV show. What pro-
duction would ever reveal the
sensation of snow as it fell on his
out - stretched tongue as be pro-
claimed to all, "Try this! Try
this!"
There were highlights for every-
one, and mine came when above
us in the dark, through the softly
falling snow, I heard the familar
yodeling of a flock of old squaws
on their' way to the Sound for a
night's lodging.
It's believed these birds feed in
the Bay during the day, only to
pass the night in the Sound. I
recall years ago when great
flocks of these birds passed from
the Bay to the Sound with a cer-
tain regularity every day.
During our walk, three more
flights passed overhead, and I
wondered if they too, were enjoy-
ing the night. A trait which most
people would heartily deny. Most
people feel that things,$ the wild
have little feeling or motions and
yet perhaps we have sold them
short and neglected to give credit
to the workings of Nature.
At any rate, the snow with "its
magic touch gave Barbara and
me something we will long re-
member. And, I hope, it gave our
children that mysterious some-
thing that helps to make a per-
son what he is. For it is my be-
lief that the accumulation of these
many experiences creates our fu.
ture.
The snow had done something
else for me. tt had given me a
hint of this week's subject, the
snow bunting. This northern visit -
or seems to flourish wherever
the wind blows and the snow
twirls in the air. Like the horned
lark, it is aground feeder and is
bardly ever found in the woods.
On Long Island we are most
likely to see it along the shores,
beaches, dunes and marshes. The
bird is much more prevalent along
these regions than on the inland
fields, although occasionally they
are found there also.
My first recollection of snow
buntings was when I was a small
boy. I had gotten up before dawn
to go duck hunting with my Dad.
I remember how cold and shaken
I was as we sat there awaiting
the dawn. Just above high water
mark we crouched down in a has•
tily -dug blind in the sand.
Something caught my eye down
the beach, and I saw a flock of
small birds rush in and settle
along the upper beach. Dawn was
just breaking and the visibility
plays tricks with your eyes at
this time. I could not recognize
any of the usual contrasting
blacks and whites that mark the
bunting's flight. All I could see
were glimpses of mouse -like birds
scurrying here and there among
the dried seaweed and sand.
How busy they were! Their
hurry and scurry made it almost
seem like life depended on their
speed, which in reality it did. For
the buntings were gathering min-
ute seed, seeds that would go un-
noticed by you and me. To us
their havest would seem fruitless
but to them it is their staff of
lift. 90% of their diet is made up
of seeds.
As they worked their way up
the beach, my eyes watered and
strained to make out what they
were. It was only when they got
within five or six feet that I re-
cognized the beautiful soft brown
and black that covers the bird's
back and the characteristic spar-
row-like bill that has the power
to split open the gathered seeds.
Finally one of them flushed and
triggered the whole flock into the
air and it was here that I could
really see the snowflakes as they
are sometimes called. The black
and white wings and body stood
out sharply and left no mistake
as to their identity. There was a
soft "tinkling whistle" as they
talked among themselves and
drifted down the beach to find a
new location.
Most often you will find snow
buntings in groups of 10, 20, or 30
here on the Island. Some years
there will seem to be more than
others and yet I can remember
some years not having seen them
at all. Probably these years were
more likely the years that I just
didn't happen to be around when
they were. It's something like
fishing — you have to be there
when they're there.
As soon as the first hint of
spring touches this area, the bunt-
ings become restless and head
North. Up through the wilds of
Canada and across the great
wastelands of the Polar and Ar-
tic regions. Here along the rugged
and barren coastline, where wind
and storm prevail, they nest.
And it is here that they call home.
It is birds like these that are
the true explorers for they have
mapped the areas where few men
have ever trod. It is this desolate
and lonely area that has kept
man out -of- bounds so that each
year the bunting can return to
bring forth another brood to carry
on. For here, man cannot inter-
fere with this wonderful cycle of
Nature.
FIELD OBSERVATIONS
David Keating reports:
Wading River — February 15
Brunnich's Murre
Bruno Brauner reports:;
Mattituck -- February 18
Long -eared Owl
Gilbert Raynor reports:
Montauk — February 17
European Cormorants (23)
Island Gull (2)
Red - necked Grebe
Razor - billed Auk
Harlequin Duck (2)
Gannet (2)