July 06, 1989 - Bound for a Wedding, by Sea016 The Suffolk Times • July 6, 1989
Bound for a Wedding, by Sea
Ov Paul Stoutenburah
We've all been to weddings. Some of
them good and others — well maybe we
sometimes wished we just didn't have to
go. Last week we not only had a good
wedding that we thoroughly enjoyed but
added to the pleasure by sailing our boat
down to the festivities.
Before we sailed I had to check on two
tern colonies. This is part of the Long
Island survey being done each year by
the Department of Environmental Con-
Focus on
Nature
servation, the Seatuck Research Lab, a
Division of Cornell University and Na-
ture Conservancy. Least and common
terns that compete with man for a place
on our local beaches are on the losing
side of a battle for survival. These
small, graceful, grey -and -white birds
that love our maritime edge feed on
small fish they catch by diving into the
water from 10 to 20 feet above. They
are often called the fisherman's friend for
they are usually present, diving and
wheeling about, when the bluefish push
the bait fish to the surface in a frenzy of
feeding.
Seen from afar, the terns tell the fish-
ermen that there are fish below; the
fishermen speed over to cast their sil-
very lures amongst the orgy of feeding.
If they're lucky they'll be rewarded and
the fun begins. This turmoil of fish
breaking the water and the terns diving
in machine - gunfire fashion only lasts
for a short time as the tigers of the sea
regroup and look for other schools of
sand eels, silversides or other small bait
fish to feed on. In the meantime the
terns hover about, drifting here and there
until one spots activity and then, as if
by magic, they all converge on the
scene and commence their plummeting
and harvest. It's a rare sight to see and it
is nature in its rawest and most primi-
tive mood.
An Unfriendly Fellow
Once aboard, the bluefish is never
still as it flaps about the bottom of the
boat. Its jaws are continually snapping
and are a menace to those who forget
how savage they can be. Sometimes, if
the feeding has been good, the fish will
spit up its dinner of silvery fish which
will be spewed about the deck. I'm al-
ways interested in what fish are feeding
Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
BLUEFISH —The one fish that seems to be popular and in abundance today is the bluefish that can be found
scattered throughout our local waters.
on. Just for an example of the variety
that is found, I opened a 10 -pound blue-
ish a friend gave me a few weeks ago
and found two small mackerel, three
butterfish, and two small bunkers. Evi-
dently feeding couldn't have been better.
The fish's doom came when, being a
greedy fellow, he also snapped at Tim's
silvery lure.
The tern colonies that I checked on
before we left for the wedding showed
poor results. One colony that started
with more than 100 birds was com-
pletely wiped out, by what I'm not sure.
We put up signs and asked people to
stay clear, but when I checked there were
remains of a beach party off to one side
of the colony. Terns can usually handle
some disturbance but had it been a late -
night party and the birds left their nests
and the eggs got cold, the embryos
could have died. Or then again it might
be a natural disaster. Mr. Fox or Rac-
coon would never think of passing up a
seashore omelet or young baby chicks.
Left alone, these bandits will decimate
ground- nesting birds.
After all the checking was completed
we finally got off and headed toward
Shelter Island where we would spend the
first night. We had left a day early so
that we could stop at Dering Harbor to
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watch the wooden boats gather for a
rendezvous. They were something to
see.
Off to a Good Start
It was our first trip overnight this
season and it went almost without a
hitch. My only disappointment was that
as we were sailing down we ran into a
school of bluefish and, as explained ear-
lier, the fish were in a frenzy of feeding.
Barbara called out, "Get the pole!" as I
quickly disappeared below. That's when
my heart sank. I'd left the poles at
home. I couldn't believe it. I rummaged
through the tackle box in hopes of find-
ing a drop line. I'd try anything.
"Hurry," Barbara's call came from above
but it was no use. I came up and ex-
plained the predicament. To make mat-
ters worse a bluefish actually jumped
clear of the water and we think we saw a
slight grin on its face as it fell back. We
looked at each other and burst out
laughing. There'd be no broiled fish
with lemon sauce for supper. We'd have
to wait for another time.
As evening wore on we headed below
to our bunks. The wind had dropped off
and it was dead calm. We could hear the
bunkers snapping as they milled about
the boats in the harbor. It brought back
memories of 40 or more years ago when
right across in Greenport great wooden,
and later metal, boats stopped on their
annual tour of fishing. It was the time
when the fishmeal factory in Promised
Land on the south shore was a booming
business, reaping the rewards of the
huge bunker schools that fed in our lo-
cal waters. Today that huge industry and
its romantic surroundings have gone and
we are left with nothing but remnants of
those great schools of silvery fish, and
just memories of that once - colorful in-
dustry.
The next day we arrived for the wed-
ding early and got to enjoy the area
while the other guests coped with heavy
traffic and long ferry lines. When wed-
ding time arrived we did a quick- change
act from shorts and T- shirts to more
formal attire. I must say I felt a bit out
of place rowing our dinghy so dressed
up as we headed toward the landing.
After an impressive seaside service,
the reception with its dancing and gaiety
went over well, and when the time came
for the last dance we felt quite pleased
with ourselves that we had chosen to
bring the boat and would soon be
aboard. We found it the ideal way to at-
tend a wedding.
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