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January 05, 2006 - A wintry day on the bayThe Suffolk Times • January 5, A wintry day on the bay Suffolk Times photo by Paul Stoutenburgh During the winter months you can usually find small groups of these old - squaw ducks feeding in our bays. On those special, rare days when the bay is like a mirror, you can hear them yodeling to each other as they dive and frolic about. THE DAY BEFORE Christmas we pulled our 13 -foot boat out and brought her back home, where we can winterize the 25 -hp engine at our leisure. Then we'll cover her up like some giant cocoon to await the warmth of spring. Down at the dock where the boat was tied up, I caught something out of the corner of my eye, something white moving toward me. It was a pair of our resident mute swans. Whenever they see someone along the creek edge, they think "food," but the Focus feeding of swans can lead to trou- ON ble in the future, NATURE When they get bolder and more by Paul adventuresome. StOutenburgh Then, as they munch around your lawn wait- ing for a handout, they'll leave a trail of markers that are unappreciated by most. They will do fine feeding on their own as long as the water doesn't freeze over. One of their natural foods is the green sea lettuce we have in all our creeks. There's an abundance of that. With their long necks and tip -up bodies, they can reach the greenery below and won't go hungry. If the wa- ter does freeze over, the wise ones will fly away to find an open spot in the ice. I've often seen them congregate at these water holes by the hundreds. We have one other white swan, and if you are real lucky you might see it. Called a tundra swan, it occasion- ally wanders into our area. You can tell this handsome white swan by its straight neck and all-black bill, in contrast to the soft curved neck of the mute swan and its partially orange bill. People don't realize just how big mute swans can get. The male, which is larger than the female, can weigh up to 40 pounds and have a wingspan of over seven feet. These wings become powerful weapons when the male is on the attack. .Looking out over the marsh that fills the upper reaches of the creek you could see that it, too, was being prepared for winter's sleep. What was once a rich golden brown, strong, upngnt marsn was now a nattenea, lifeless mass of decaying vegetation. It is one of nature's ways of providing basic nutrients to the food chain. Like all marshes, it was working like a giant compost pile. As I helped untie the boat from the dock, a kingfisher flew in, rattling its rough call, which I translated as, "Would you please get away from my fishing grounds. You're scaring all the killifish away." Most kingfishers head south to where there are plenty of small fish to feed on, yet, for some unknown reason, there are always a few that will try to make it through the winter by finding open water free from ice where they can dive fora meal. Here, too, is a mystery — why is it there are always some killies that will shun the soft muddy bottom, where the majority of their clan is hibernat- ing, and stay active? My eye catches the "oddity of the day." Some distance away I see the skeletal remains of an osprey plat- form. It had its pair of osprey all summer long. It served its purpose well, but now what do I see — a great blue heron standing on it, surveying the world from its newfound height. Evidently its long legs didn't let it se enough, so it took to the osprey plat- form some 20 feet in the air to look around. How odd and out of place it We had to bring the boat over to a ramp where the trailer was waiting but before that, my son had a good idea: "Let's take one last spin around the bay." It didn't take me long to go along with that suggestion. I turned the key to the engine. The motor growled and whined and whined and growled, evidently sitting around for the past few weeks without being run was showing up now. Never mind, I'd brought a can of starter fluid, with a shot of that into the carburetor, we were off and running. In the creek the mallard ducks and a pair of blacks leapt out of the water as we passed their feeding grounds. As they flew away, there was a continual chatter of duck talk going on. The translation I'm sure would not be ap- propriate here. Then ahead of us six — no, 10 - bufflehead ducks, our smallest div- ing ducks, took off low over the water. These handsome little "butterballs" will add life to our creeks all through the winter. At the mouth of the creek were six or eight herring gulls — half on the beach, the others paddling along the shore edge seemingly looking for something to eat. I couldn't imagine what they might find. Once the creek was left behind with the open bay ahead, the throttle was inched forward and the boat rose on its plane. The motor seemed to like its newfound speed. I noticed the channel markers had been taken up, along with the signs that limit the speed in our creeks The bay constables have been busy. There was no. wind so the bay was flat. We had the bay to ourselves and we literally flew across its mirrored surface. Oldsquaw ducks flew off to our right and left. I tried to overtake one to see how We had fast they fly, but it was no use; they the bay to left me behind. I ourselves calculated it must have been flying and we lit- at least 45 mph. erally flew Scattered about across its were bufflehead, red - breasted mer mirrored gansers and sco- surface. ters that took off in one direction or another. Some were using their feet to help paddle along as they flew off. We saw one grebe, a notorious diver that popped up startled, right alongside of us. It started to fly, but its wings alone weren't enough, so its feet paddled furiously along the surface of the water. Now the combined effort of paddling feet and whirling wings got it airborne some 100 feet from us. It just goes to show that some of the most unrewarding jobs, like taking the boat up, can turn into a mini adven- ture that makes the day worthwhile.