January 02, 1997 - A Very Merry Christmas Bird Count26 • The Suffolk Times 4o January 2, 1997
A Very Merry Christmas Bird Count
December 21 — the shortest day of
the year — and the alarm clock rang at
4:45 a.m. to wake me for the annual
Montauk Bird Count. This was to be the
first of three bird counts I would partic-
ipate in this year. Each count will cover
a 15 -mile circle, and seeing Gardiners
Island falls within the Mon-
tauk Count's circle, that's
where I would be today.
I traveled with Peter, my
son, and his good friend,
Kenny. We arrived at Three
Mile Harbor in the dark and
carried our gear to the boat
that took us, along with oth-
ers, to that legendary island
that lies between the North
and South forks. Others joined us and
milled about as we waited for our depar-
ture. The diesel engine had already been
started and was quietly purring below. A
cold chill had everyone bundled up in
winter gear and now the various back-
packs, binoculars, scopes, lunches and
extra gear were loaded aboard along
with the anxious birders and we were
off.
We started across the cold, gray bay
that had a brisk northwest wind stirring
whitecaps as we left the harbor. It was
still dark as we headed for our destina-
tion to the east. As we passed Lion Head
rock, dawn fought the darkness and
shapes appeared on the horizon.
Oldsquaw ducks burst from the water in
front of us as the great monster of a boat
roared down on them in the dark.
At the dock, pickup trucks awaited us
and the various parties were whisked off
to cover their assigned areas. Mine was
to be the southern part of this great is-
land, the area called Cartwright, which
includes the area on the mainland to the
north about a mile or so and, of course,
all the long sandy bar that swings south
toward Napeague. How long this long
tail of sand extends depends on whether
the tide is up or down. We
were lucky; the tide was
going out so we had two
miles of walking to go.
Focus
on
Nature
by Paul
Stoutenburgh
Tools of the Trade
I'd carry my scope and
binoculars for viewing and,
as usual, a camera bag and
lens just in case something
special came up. We started
immediately to add offshore birds to our
list: common loons, scoters, oldsquaws,
red - breasted mergansers, horned grebes
— the list will go on. Inside the loop of
Great Pond we found an assortment of
freshwater ducks: handsome hooded
mergansers, gadwall, widgeon, buffle-
head, black ducks, and this list, too, will
go on through the day but our mission
was to seek out shorebirds that can usu-
ally be found at the extreme south end of
Cartwright.
This long strip of land exposes itself at
low tide and makes good feeding
grounds for those shore birds who lin-
gered behind instead of leaving on their
southern migration long ago. On our way
out we passed low dunes covered with
the tan of dune grass and it was from this
area I got my first good bird, a marsh
hawk or harrier that works these grassy
areas for mice or voles. We have this
low- flying, wheeling hawk occasionally
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Suffolk Times photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
HOODED MERGANSER — Groups of five to 10 of these handsome little
freshwater ducks were seen on Gardiners Island, part of the 15 -mile circle of
the annual Montauk Christmas Bird Count.
over our fields here on the North Fork.
It's a beautiful bird with long thin wings
and a white rump. No sooner had I
jumped one of these harriers than anoth-
er took off a short way down the beach. I
watched them in my binoculars with
their graceful rocking flight until they
disappeared far to the north.
My next good bird was a short -eared
owl, a bird we often miss but one that is
found in this open grassy area we were
passing through. It, too, roams these
flat areas with its dunes and grass. This
one was right at the edge of the grass
where I'd been walking. It took me by
surprise and drifted out over the bay
only to swing back a thousand feet far-
ther to the north. I'm sure all of these
birds had had an early morning break-
fast and were sleeping it off in the sun
as I came by.
Wind Still Blows Cold
The wind still had its sharp sting, even
though the sun was up and doing its best
to warm up the day. I marveled at the
drifting sand that was caught by the
stones on the beach. Each had its little
tail of sand telling me exactly where the
wind had come from. The simplicity and
wonder of this beach kept me fascinated
as I walked along. Then I saw it, but I
wanted to make sure it wasn't just anoth-
er piece of white Styrofoam off in the
distance. Up came my binoculars and
there it was — just what I had hoped for
— a beautiful snowy owl. I could see its
yellow eyes, surrounded by its white face
and black - speckled body and what a
sight it made, sitting alongside a piece of
beautiful sand - blasted driftwood. He
glared back at me and then went about
his business of eating something held
firmly in his feathered talons.
Cold fingers fumbled for the camera
that hung from my neck. Clumsy hands,
in heavy gloves, could not work the ad-
justments. With gloves off, I moved for-
ward to get closer but this wanderer from
the north would have no part of it and
promptly moved up the beach 500 to 600
feet. I called my companions over to
have a look and they were delighted at
the sight of this regal owl. We then
walked up to where the owl had been sit-
ting and found the remains of what he
had been eating. It was a horned grebe, a
sort of small duck. This confirmed my
research that snowy owls occasionally
take ducks and small birds to augment
their regular diet of mice and lemmings.
The last we saw` of him was when fie
swung out over the bay, disgusted with
our interruption, and flew back toward
the mainland.
Flocks of Shorebirds
Now we concentrated on the shore-
birds ahead. Flocks of 150 would dazzle
us with their tight formation of brilliant
white flashes as they swooped and
turned. At one point they'd be just a tight
group of dark birds flying close to the
water, then as if someone turned a light
on, they'd bank and their darkness would
turn to white — a wild and wonderful
scene.
Once the group landed we put our
scopes on them =and looked them over
carefully. Then we'd see turnstones and
dunlins mixed in amongst them with an
occasional black- bellied plover, all birds
of the seashore and nesters of the Arctic
on their way south to warmer lands.
We'd walk the two miles or so over this
stony sandy beach with our scopes and
backpacks wearing heavily on our shoul-
ders. It was time to turn back. Another
hour - and -a -half walk and we'd be back
at the airport shack by noon. We'd been
walking for over five hours and I was
feeling a bit bushed.
Lunch revived us and then we broke
up into two groups. I'd take the east side
of the section to the north and my friends
would search out the west side. At 3 p.m.
we'd meet at the road that runs through
the middle of the island to be picked up.
I think I got the better of the deal, for as
I looked over the huge banks to the east
(80 feet or more in height) there was a
sight to behold. Down below on the
rocks as I peeked over the edge were
seals — I couldn't believe the number. I
counted 19 on the first group of rocks
and 14 on the other, 33 in all. I'd never
seen anything like it before in all the
years I've been on Gardiners Island. I
looked at them through my binoculars
and they appeared as giant sausages bal-
anced on the rocks. One rock actually
had five on it. They were basking in the
sun, glad to be out of the cold water
below.
Our day ended as the truck picked us
up along the road and took us back to the
boat. On our trip back the sun disap-
peared. The time was 4:19 p.m. Once the
sun had left, our watery world outside
took on a cold gray look, but inside the
cabin of the boat the tired chattering
birders were still enthusiastic about the
day they'd spent on Gardiners Island.
The day was perfect.