Nature Connection: On The Move

The day was bright, full of brisk breezes and cool air. The sea was still a bit feisty though the recent storm had moved out a day or so before. Waves crashed against the shore while a hundred or so gulls floated just out of reach of the active waves. Up and down they went with the waves, sometimes flying up to readjust their spot, settling back down again behind the highest crests.

Bait fish had been active before and during the storm and were apparently still close to shore. The gulls were feeding intermittently, grabbing and gulping down the small fish in greedy bites.

Farther out, the northern gannets were diving into the sea, splashing as they hit the water. They would swim after their prey underwater before rising again to float on the surface and swallow their prizes. One after another they dove, their bright white wings tipped with black shining like polished metal in the sun.

I had come to see if the winter ducks had arrived. This was a spot where I’d often seen the eiders and scoters arriving by the thousands in many Octobers, and since I had an appointment nearby, it was a good way to spend a half hour or so watching the water to see what I could see.

There are always a few common eider ducks in this area all through the year, but I was hoping to see the huge flocks that fill the canal and nearby beaches each winter. The area is rich with mussels, a favorite food of theirs. It is also a place where crabs and fish are abundant, so it attracts many different kinds of seabirds over the span of a year.

On this day, the local ducks were hanging out by the jetty, but there were no signs of the big crowds quite yet. I settled in to watch the gulls and gannets. Later in the year this spot is visited by right whales, and we sometimes see a minke or humpback make its way past the area, especially at the times of year when they are migrating,  so scanning it is always interesting.

It is also a spot known for seeing ocean sunfish, also called mola molas, their dorsal fins swinging from side to side as they navigate the cooling waters. More than once I’ve come across the odd body of these unique and unusual fish on the beach. They can’t take our cooling water or air and attempt to head south before it sets in. Unfortunately, not all make it. 

Cars and trucks came and went. People pulled up, got out, took a quick picture and hurried back into their cars. The wind was fierce and it was pretty chilly, but there were walkers out, most with very active dogs that were enjoying the surf and chasing the gulls. 

I kept watching the water, and as I looked east I saw a huge cloud of birds coming in, heading south. Hundreds, then thousands of black birds flying in long skeins low over the water while others flew higher, in bunches that expanded and contracted as they got closer.

It didn’t take long to realize these were double-crested cormorants. They landed in the water just past where the northern gannets were feeding, creating huge black rafts on the green-blue sea. There were thousands of cormorants, and more flew in every minute, enlarging the black raft until all I could see in the distance were cormorants.

I’m old enough to remember when the sight of a cormorant was rare on Cape Cod, but now they are everywhere. Although some stay all year, especially in the canal area, most migrate south to warmer waters for the winter.

Cormorants are fish eaters, and many in our fishing communities are not fans. In some parts of the world cormorants are captured and used for fishing. A leash is tied around their necks so that the fish they catch is stuck in their throats and retrieved by their handlers. They are allowed to eat some but not until they have filled the baskets of their captors. I am not a fan of using animals or birds in this fashion, but I have to admit it is a rather clever way of dealing with a bird that could be problematic in areas where human food is difficult to come by. It’s an ancient custom, passed down through generations, and is still used in some areas.

For me on this day, the thrill was in the huge masses of birds arriving, feeding, then lifting back into the air. This is a ritual that has gone on for far longer than we can imagine. No matter how many roads or airplanes or boats we build, we can never match this phenomenon of lifting our bodies in the air and flying to a destination hundreds, even thousands of miles away.

On my way down the road to my appointment I watched a massive flock of swallows flying low over the dunes. They, too, were on the move.

By the time you read this, a week after I am writing, many birds will be gone, but many others may be arriving. Watch for the sea ducks at area beaches and the smaller buffleheads and hooded mergansers at area ponds and lakes. Loons may also arrive, as well as a few grebes.

The leaves along the back roads are changing, mornings are quieter with only a few birds such as mockingbirds singing, and the bees are slowing way down. Enjoy these lovely days and keep your eyes and ears open for our quieter, less obvious fall visitors. It doesn’t always look like much is going on but if you sit quietly, you may be amazed by what you see.