September 22, 1983 - A Night on the BaySECOND SECTION
The *Uffoth Timeo September 22, 1983
A Night on the Bay
By PAULSTOUTENBURGH
Once again we snuck off in our boat to
spend a night on the water. It was late as
we slid out of the cove under a nice
breeze. In no time we had to flip on the
running lights and visibility became a
memory of landmarks. Sailing at night
has a special adventure built into it. Our
world becomes unfamiliar, distances are
almost impossible to calculate. The
dotted shoreline of lights is a maze of
confusion. Yet in your own waters one
can usually decipher the hodge podge of
silhouettes, beacon lights, buoys, etc. so
that the journey is usually secure.
Adding all these up a night sail becomes
something special.
Thinking back to when I was in the
service many, many years ago, I can
remember night watches aboard ship.
With youthful enthusiasm we searched
the dark horizons. How our eyes were
anxious to see. Night vision takes time to
acquire and white lights would always
put you back to another period of
waiting. When we were on watch
everything was lost in blackness until our
eyes became familiar with the night.
Then the eerie outline of the ship became
visible. The phosphorescent wake of the
boat glowed astern. And if a shoreline
was nearby it became a dark silhouette
along with the nearby ships that always
ran "in total darkness ". All this became
partly visible when your eyes were
accustomed to the dark.
mn,3
So it was last night when we sailed for
our destination, for we could make out
the shoreline, a tall radio beacon and
other guarded silhouettes. Nothing is
positive at night. We sailed on, tacked,
and sailed again for what we hoped
would be a black buoy at the end of a long
sand spit. One of the nice things that
makes sailing a bit more comfortable in
our bays here on Long Island is the lack
of any quantity of rocks. Should you run
aground, nine times out of 10 you're on a
sandy bottom and merely have to back
off. Of course, there are those occasions
that doesn't work and the tide's going
out. We all have those embarrassing
moments when we have to sit and wait
until the tide comes up and floats us off.
Right on Course
Our night sailing brought us right on
course, for soon Barbara called out,
"There's a buoy ahead!" Her eyes are
like a cat's in the dark. Sure enough not
too far away was the unlit black buoy
we'd been looking for. One more short
t� a
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YELLOWLEGS- -White rump, long legs and nodding head mark this shore
bird that stops off here on Long Island for food and rest on its migration
south. Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
tack to the port then a short sail and the
anchor was dropped. Here we'd stop for
the night.
I was awakened by a shift of wind at
two in the morning but knowing the plow
anchor had fetched up hard we had
nothing to worry about. We left our faith
to its holding.
hovers. Let that killie or minnow come
out from under the seaweed and down the
kingfisher will go, wings folded back,
body like a bullet plummeting into the
water. Up he'll come flying away and
with a quick flip to. turn the fish around
head first, its down and he's off to a
nearby limb chattering about his
success.
The yellow of an early sun movit There are two other birds that hover
back and forth on the bulkhead of tl like the kingfisher over their prey. The
cabin silently aroused me. This with ti beautiful big osprey that fishes in a like
scream of a gull as it glided over tt manner and has all but left our area for
stern of the boat and I was up. On deck warmer hunting grounds down south and
bright new world greeted me. It would t the smaller robin -size kestrel. This hawk
a perfect time to write. hovers over our field at home where he
There are a multitude of littl hunts insects and mice. Once called a
adventures going on about me an sparrow hawk, he too goes south but like
probably an untold number that I am nc the kingfisher a few will winter over. The
even aware of. A yellowlegs, a shore bir weather is the key to their survival. If we
whose head seems to be connected to hi have a lot of ice for long periods of time
long yellow legs as he half struts and hal and all the open water is frozen, the
runs along the beach, searches out , kingfisher cannot find any food. If we
meal at the high tide mark. Now he stop have too much snow and the cover lasts
and the momentum of his walk keeps hi the little kestrel cannot find his moving
head bobbing up and down. He flies dowi moles or mice for they now scurry hidden
the beach and I can see the white ruml beneath the snow cover. Nature deals a
that marks him. harsh game for those who don't play by
the rules.
Further along a seagull has captured
an old sand crab. I can tell by looking
through my binoculars its color is dark, a All morning the swallows have been
moss brown coating covers the shell. flying along the beach edges on their way
This fellow would soon die for when these south. They surely have no choice but to
crabs become old and slow they fall prey head where there is always a plentiful
to predators or the cold weather. The gull supply of flying insects. Our first frost
dances about the crab, circling it and and most of the flying insects are gone so
fiercely jabbing away. The crab on its you can see the reason for their hurrying
back with open claws is no defense for south.
the gull's darting bill.
On one of the signposts along the beach
a flicker, a large woodpecker alights. His
long swooping up and down flight tells us
who he is. After checking the pole, he
drops on the sandy ground below. Here
he'll search for ants. He's one of a group
that have flown into the area to feed
during the day. Most will fly south, but a
few rugged individuals stay up north and
eke out a living of dormant grubs, worms
and insect eggs on the trees in our woods.
Kingfisher Hovers
Way off in a distance I can see a
kingfisher seemingly hanging in the sky.
His rapid wings hold him in position as he
Now two crows fly along the beach
looking for leftovers or some tid bit that
has washed up. All summer long we've
seen crow families of four, five or six in a
group. Now the families have been
broken up and they are all on their own.
It's every crow for himself from now on.
There are endless natural adventures
going on in the world around us — each
with its own purpose in mind, each
depending on the other. Let us not forget
we, too, are part of this cycle and
likewise just as dependent.
From down below I smell sausage and
eggs cooking. Barbara's up. Time to eat.