The others may be done talking about our weekend in Cape May, but I’m only just getting around to sorting through my photos from the trip. Most are dreary and awful because, well, the weather was, but maybe I can salvage enough to offer up something that you haven’t already read about on their blogs.
I’d intended to get down to Cape May early in the morning on Friday, but decided instead to take my time and stop at a few places on the way south that might make the best of the stormy weather. I visited The Wetlands Institute in Stone Harbor to dry out some around lunchtime, but mostly because I knew there’d be nice congregations of great and snowy egrets feeding in the salt marshes along the causeway. I took this pic from their parking lot; you can see through the gloom the type of development that is typical on the barrier islands of the Jersey Shore. The habitat loss has destroyed nesting sites for birds and other critters. The Wetlands Institute does a lot of work to restore habitat for diamondback terrapins and it was this that interested me. Just out of sight in the foreground of the photo is an artificial nesting site created for them as an alternative to nesting on the embankments along the causeway.
About the time that Susan was making a wrong turn on the Atlantic City Expressway and heading for Camden of all places, I was at the Sea Watch in Avalon. Seawatching isn’t for everyone, especially in the pouring rain, but the scoter show was phenomenal on Friday – 158,000 birds passed the counter, most of them scoters! Of course I couldn’t really see them through the rain and the foggy windows of my car, but wave after wave of migrating seabirds is spectacular, no matter the weather, really. I also spotted some newly arrived brant; they’ve been here at Sandy Hook for two weeks or so, but I’m not ready to hear their wintry calls just yet.
No, there’s no costume for Luka this year; he’s cute enough without one. Scary is how quickly he’s growing and getting near strong enough to pull me off my feet if he so chooses. At almost 5 months, he’s a big boy; all bony elbows and long velvet ears. Most of his growth this past month seems to have been in the torso; he’s gotten longer rather than taller and looks like some sort of hound dog rather than a Lab most times.
His favorite spot to perch is still in the windowsill behind the couch. I took his photo there this afternoon while we waited for some trick-or-treaters to arrive. None ever did and it’s just as well because there’s no candy in the house. I’m not sure what’s going on with the kids in the neighborhood, but we haven’t had trick-or-treaters for a few years.
Keeping this pup exercised enough to behave himself is still a challenge. I’d have him at the dog park every day if he didn’t get filthy dirty at every visit. There’s an acre of grass, but the dogs romp and play in the dirt at the entrance. Most days it’s near midnight by the time I get around to a good long walk with him and we wander through the quiet neighborhood and slip into the park to watch the moon and listen for screech owls or the neighborhood great-horned pair.
He’s a great shoe thief and gets an inordinate amount of joy from removing the laces on a pair of sneakers. He’s been scolded for that so many times, but it only seems to add to his joy at doing it.
Susan pretty much stole my thunder, but I’ll go ahead anyway and torture you with more about the Cape May Banding Project. Part of the fun in watching hawks is learning to identify them in the field. Most often we get only a fleeting glance that offers little more than a general impression of the bird’s size and shape, with little or no detail visible as it disappears into the distance.
The banding demonstrations at Cape May Point State Park offer those of us who are drawn to birds of prey the chance to see some of those details up close. Birds of prey have become a popular study among birders and there are plenty of books to help with identifying them, but can’t compare to the thrill of seeing one up close. The point of the banding demonstrations is to engage the public and generate support for the project; the purpose of the banding itself is a bit more far-reaching and long-term.
Last fall when I wrote a bit about the monarch tagging project, a commenter here questioned the ethics of tagging butterflies. I think the same criticism might be made for banding hawks if we fail to consider the importance of the science behind it. The capture of migrant hawks is routine at many hotspots throughout the world; Cape May isn’t unique in that respect, and the numbers banded through the years are quite large. The data gained can help to answer important questions about population dynamics and provide insight to understand why some species are in decline.
The name Blue Darter is an old nickname for the Cooper’s Hawk and refers to the bluish-gray on an adult hawk’s back. This cranky one is a juvenille showing the typical brownish-streaked breast and belly.
I felt about how this bird looks going back to work today until I found out that I had won $50 in the baseball pool for the World Series!
Most important is the sea and a beach empty of people. Shorebirds wheel in the far distance trailing their shadows along the shoreline. The haze at the horizon suggests gannets or scoters tumbling into themselves above the breakers. Somewhere behind is the dune forest with its hollies and bayberries. The autumn sun vaguely warms the chilly salt air; you wish for another layer but the car is too far off to go back. A walk along the shore is a sustaining ritual for many. The elemental beauty of the sea’s edge captivates the newcomer just as readily as it attaches itself to the memory of those of us who call it home.
Someday soon I’ll be in the mood to share pics and tell stories, but for the moment I’m caught in that melancholy state of post-vacation-let-down.
It isn’t easy explaining the *Cape May Experience* to someone who hasn’t been here. If you’ve gone to other birding festivals, you might have an inkling, but I doubt it’s comparable. The first time I came for an Autumn Weekend and then had to leave and go home, I was almost in tears for most of the long drive up the Parkway. Granted, I don’t get out much and was new to birding, but really, there’s something special about Cape May.
I hope that Susan, Susan and Delia got an idea of that special something and can maybe convey it better than I with their posts about the weekend. It’s not just about the spectacle of bird migration that’s so obvious here. Part of it is that there are so many familiar faces and a sense of connection, even among strangers, and the easy way we find common ground to share a laugh, a story and the simple comfort of a warm car at dusk beside the hawkwatch.
We’ve all arrived safely – a bit wet and bedraggled – but we’re here. The wireless connection at the hotel is painfully slow, but I wanted to share this less-than-stellar shot of the first bird that found me this afternoon. Now can someone tell me what variety of bittern this is, before I unpack the field guides?
Thanks to everyone who took the time to send pics! We’ve made a lovely mosaic of fall color, don’t you think?
Hand and leaf ID’s are as follows (clockwise from top left): Redbud, I think (from the Net), Piracantha berries from Donna who doesn’t have much color yet, Maple from Nina, Pin Oak from Mary, Locust from John, Maple from Ruth, Maple leaves (from the Net), Striped Maple from Al (also called the Moosewood Maple or the Goosefoot Maple which I can totally see – thanks Mojoman – I learned a new ID with that name!), Staghorn Sumac from Ruthie J., Larch needles from me, Sourwood from Jayne, and Dogwood from Larry.
Just me rambling about birds, books, bunnies, or whatever!
The others may be done talking about our weekend in Cape May, but I’m only just getting around to sorting through my photos from the trip. Most are dreary and awful because, well, the weather was, but maybe I can salvage enough to offer up something that you haven’t already read about on their blogs.
r birds and other critters. The Wetlands Institute does a lot of work to restore habitat for diamondback terrapins and it was this that interested me. Just out of sight in the foreground of the photo is an artificial nesting site created for them as an alternative to nesting on the embankments along the causeway.
