February 28, 2002 - Oldsquaw: duck for all seasonsThe Suffolk Times • February 28, 2002
Idsquaw0 ,
uck for all seasons
Times /Review photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
These oldsquaw ducks are one of the most common sea ducks that visit us from the north
each winter. They are noted for their pleasant yodeling call. The black- and -white males are
larger and more colorful than the mottled, brownish females. Listen to them on calm win-
ter days in the Sound or in our bays.
FOR SOME REASON OUR WOODS
must be a direct path for the deer, for
we see them almost every day passing
through. It's usually three or four but
some days it can be as many as eight
or 10. We've gotten quite used to see-
ing them, but what we witnessed last
week was very unusual.
I'm sure you have all seen the chil-
dren's books with the black and white
FOCUS
you to locate a
hidden bird, lion
ON
deer or other
NATURE
objects. I can
b Paul
Y
remember the
StoutenbuMh
fun we had as
kids discovering
our eagle, tiger,
leopard, etc., amongst the maze of
It was hidden shapes such as those
that loomed up before us the other
day as we looked out the window and
our eyes caught the twitching of a
deer's ear. We strained to make out
the rest of the body, but the color and
shape of the deer seemed to melt into
the dry woods. As we watched, some-
thing spooked the almost - invisible
deer, along with four others we had
not seen at all. In a flash, they bolted
into action, their white tails waving as
they bounded away! They had been
standing there, all perfectly blended
with the winter's landscape like the
black- and -white figures hidden in
those old puzzles. Both Barbara and 1
stood dumbfounded. How could five
deer have been right in front of us
and all we could see was an ear mov-
ing? Nature has provided the deer
with perfect camouflage.
From deer to ducks
Let's jump from deer to oldsquaw
ducks. We had to go to Mattituck the
other day and while there we always
like to mix a little pleasure with busi-
ness, so we drove down to Mattituck
Inlet. It's a great place to take a lunch
and just pull into the parking area and
see what's going on. The day we were
there, oldsquaw ducks were congregat
ing at the mouth of the inlet. There
must have been a good food supply to
attract so many. Those black -and-
white sea ducks are my favorite winter
ducks. You can see these colorful sea
divers in both the Sound and in our
bays.
I first became acquainted with this
very talkative duck, the oldsquaw,
when I, in my youthful enthusiasm,
tried my luck at duck hunting. It was
a time when energy flourished and
nothing seemed impossible. Before
dawn, along with a group of fellow
enthusiasts, we trailered rowboats to
a favorite launching spot, dragged
them to the water's edge, got all the
paraphernalia in the boats and head-
ed for where the ducks were sup-
posed to fly. We then anchored the
boats in a line about a gunshot apart,
where we'd lie and
wait for the flight to
begin.
Most often it was
an exercise in keep-
ing the shotgun shell
economy going, for
we banged away at
what seemed to be a
streak of black and
white as it passed by
our clumsy line of
boats. There were
good reasons for our
poor results. First,
lying in the bottom
of a boat (that often
leaked) was not the
ideal position for
shooting. Second,
those long - tailed,
pink - billed oldsquaw
traveled between 50
and 70 miles per
hour. Third, most of
the ducks were out of
range and yet there
was that youthful
belief we could do
anything. Fourth,
most of us were just
poor shots! And so it often sounded
like there was lots going on but few
ducks actually fell to our noisy bar-
rage. It was there that I started to
appreciate this rugged, fast - flying,
hard -to -hit visitor from the north.
This is a duck of all seasons. I think
of it on the wildest of winter days.
When they fly, they fly close to the
water, and when they land, they land
with a great splash. On calm days, it's
a delight to hear their yodeling call.
Of all the species of ducks, the old -
squaw is the most vocal. It has a
cheerful call, yet one that reminds
you of faraway, wild places.
Oldsquaw are diving ducks seeking
mussels and other bivalves, along
with shrimp, crabs and other crus-
taceans. They dive to considerable
depths. There are records of their
being caught in fishermen's nets in
depths up to 200 feet. Hundreds, no
thousands, are caught and drowned in
fishermen's gill nets every year.
Like most ducks at this time of the
year, they are going through their
courtship rituals and to watch them is
quite amusing. The male, which is
larger than the female, thrashes about
trying to drive the other suitors away,
while all the time swimming around
with its long tail straight up in the air.
Then, with its bill upward and out-
ward, it moves its head up and down
as it shows off in front of the female.
About this time, other gallant suitors
move in and a squabble starts up,
with thrashing wings, males chasing
each other, all this amidst turbulent
water and much confusion.
Oldsquaws nest along the entire
Arctic coast. The nest is on the
ground and the site is concealed from
view by the female's mottled brown -
and -black coloring that blends so well
with the Arctic tundra. Once the eggs
hatch, the male leaves the rearing of
the young to the female. This is a
dangerous time for the young, which
are often snatched up by gulls and
other predators. They swallow the
helpless young in a few gulps.
Because of this harassment, often
the female oldsquaws get together
with their young so they can better
fight off any intruders. It's a cruel
world out there and anything a
species can do to give it an edge
might just be the deciding factor in
its survival. So, if you are interested
in getting to know this talkative win-
ter duck, wait fora dead-calm clay
and go to any of our beaches along
the Sound or bay and get out and lis-
ten. You might be surprised to hear
their yodeling song as they frolic and
play.
One last bit of encouragement. The
other day we had 10 or 12 robins
feeding on our front yard. Whether
they were early birds just up from the
south is hard to tell. We do know that
small groups of these cheerful birds
stay through the winter, existing on
berries of one sort or another. So
whether it was a group of early
arrivals or those occasional winter
robins, I don't know. What I do know
is, they sure looked good to me.