"Hey!"
"What?"
"Get your binoculars and get in the car!"
This has happened before, of course. The first time was seven years ago and the end result was a Thick-billed Murre in Scituate Harbor. The second time was two years ago and it was an Allen's Hummingbird, also in Scituate. This time it was a Red-headed Woodpecker - oddly enough also in Scituate. See? It pays to go to work on Mondays. Especially in Scituate.
First stop, Skaneateles. That's "skinny-atlas" for those of you who are not from the Finger Lakes area.
Then, on our four-day Finger Lakes adventure, it was onto Cayuga Lake and the many historic towns along the way. This factory pond in Union Springs never fails. This year it was wood ducks that caught our attention.
Early on day two, this year, we visited the Cornell Lab of Ornithology for a behind-the-scenes tour with Sean Scanlon, Director of Development.
Sean showed us, among other oddities, a drawer full of Ivory-billed Woodpeckers, now extinct.
Outdoors, on the trails of Sapsucker Woods, we ran into the work of artist Andy Goldsworthy...
...beautiful foliage...
...and memories of the breeding season just passed.
Despite chilly temperatures...
...and heavy winds, shown here at Stewart Park in downtown Ithaca, we birded on.
Buttermilk Falls was as spectacular as usual...
...and Taughannock Falls didn't disappoint either.
Some of us danced to Bob and Myrna Melnyk's Polka Magic Band while tasting dry reislings at the Thirsty Owl Wine Company.
And on the final day, we delved into Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge, where thousands of Snow Geese, dozens of Tundra Swans, 3 Sandhill Cranes and thousands of ducks entertained us all. Amazed by waterfalls, delighted by wine and wowed by waterfowl, we headed for home. Why does every trip have to end that way?
The rain didn't help, but we knew it would end. Of course, we're not leopard frogs, so we shouldn't speak for everybody.
But when we're looking to run a nature photography class, we'd at least like to be able to see...well, anything.
That first day, we tried to make something out of something a little more than nothing.
But, ah, then came Saturday, and a trip to Boulder Beach. We lined ourselves up for the shots before the sun came up.
When it did, it was spectacular.
The cliffs, one of the highest points on the eastern seaboard, turn pink when the sun hits them just right in the morning.
We wandered in search of other images, in the land where the forest meets the rocks that meet the sea.
We found orange jellies, an acquired taste for photographers, but no-brainers for mushroom-minded naturalists.
We sought other sights around the island, like at the harbor at Bernard, were we tried to see life as the locals do.
Guillemots fed in the shallow areas, quickly diving and resurfacing with their catches.
At sundown, we got into the Halloween spirit.
When the sun rose on the third day, we were among the first to see it, from the top of Cadillac Mountain.
We were not alone.
We retreated to Eagle Lake to find beaver lodges...
...and recent beaver damage.
A flight of passing thrushes caught our fancy...
...but soon it was time to walk back down the Carriage Roads and head for home. But we had had our just desserts! In all, a wonderful weekend at Acadia.
First stop on Block Island? Southeast Light. And it's not just for the history.There were southeast winds. Peregrine falcons dangle in the air at the lighthouse, on Mohegan Bluffs, when those conditions are right. They did not disappoint that day.
Unfortunately, there were signs of more erosion in the area, the kind that pushed the lighthouse back to its current location in 1993. Bank swallow nests are a good thing - for bank swallows. For us, it's a sign of recent natural destruction.
Elsewhere on the island, life was good. The fish were jumping at Sachem Pond...
...the groundsel was in bloom...
...and Rebecca continued to stand firm in her conviction that temperance is a good thing.
Thicket owners threw open their gates to warblers and birders alike.
A red-eyed vireo struck a window at the Coast Guard station, but shook it off and was doing fine when we left.
No matter where we looked, fall was peeking through.
And soon we ran out of time. By the time the ferry whistle blew, we had seen about 100 species of birds, but not nearly as much of the island as we had wanted.
Sigh...there's always next year. We'll be back. The Block bug has bitten us all.
You know, we've had it all this year - heavy snow, tornadoes just to our west, an earthquake felt right here in Marshfield, and the remnants of a couple of tropical storms. It seems like we never got the chance to just enjoy 2011.
Everything bloomed, then came and went quickly, or so it seemed.
Fall migration has started, as the birds, like this Lincoln's sparrow seen in Marshfield during the South Shore Bird Club's annual Fall Round-Up, will attest.
Nature continued to surprise us. If you look closely at this image of the old Coast Guard radio tower, also in Marshfield...
...you can see that the ospreys have moved in.
Just offshore, the mola-molas are feeding happily on jellyfish, as they should be at this time of year...
...but at least one northern fulmar has arrived -a winter-if-at-all sighting in Massachusetts.
These are all just nature's ways of saying that things, they are a changin'. Fall is here. Break out the extra clothing layers, and let the cycle begin again!
They don’t always recognize it, but it’s there. They don’t always understand it, but someday they will. Who are “they”? Our summer campers – the great cast of characters that bring a blend of emotions and energy to each camp day. This past season, most were return campers, some back for a second year, while others approached veteran status by returning for a third, even fourth. For many, this summer marked their first ever camp experience (Go Little Look-Abouts!). Others came to the North River Wildlife Sanctuary for the first time. They ranged in size, shape, and age. Some told horrible knock-knock jokes. Many had special talents. All had distinct personalities. Combined with an eclectic bunch of counselors, a unique group dynamic was formed each week.
What campers are not fully aware of yet though is that camp is more than just going on hikes and playing games. Hidden in the shadows of daily camp experiences are opportunities for them to increase their self-confidence, develop leadership skills, and practice good decision-making. Some found the opportunity by volunteering to read the camp pledge, some picked up trash that didn’t belong to them, and others worked cooperatively to build a stick fort. Of course, group dynamics were not always balanced and disappointing behavior did occur – no camp runs that smoothly! In an effort to foster character building, we recognize positive behavior, but also call attention to inappropriate conduct, especially in regards to respect. The camp setting provides a safe environment in which campers can learn from the choices they make.
Clearly, providing outdoor opportunities and educating children about nature is one of the main goals of our camp programs. But the real value of our camp may be found in helping campers be part of something bigger than themselves – a caring camp community. For many campers, this experience has been made possible through our Camp Scholarship Fund. If your child has had a memorable time at camp, teach them about caring for what we value by making a donation to our Camp Scholarship Fund. Help extend our camp community and provide families in need of assistance the same opportunities for their children.
Thanks again to all our campers for a wonderful summer. It was great to meet all the new campers and we took comfort in seeing all the returnees. Keep spreading the good word and we’ll see you back next year!
Amy “Twig” Quist
Camp Director
The ride out along the Elizabeth Island chain is half the fun, if you ask me.
We take the Venture Inn II with Ocean Quest, from the waterfront in Woods Hole, and wind our way down towards Tarpaulin Cove, on the Vineyard Sound side.
There we find the ancient lighthouse, and the cove where ships' masters ordered their men to get to "tarpawling" their vessels, making them watertight - hence the name.
Then it's through Quick's Hole, where the Scottish highland cattle can be seen grazing on Nashawena Island. They proved to be more sturdy than sheep when the coyotes came calling on the islands.
Our first stop is on Penikese Island, home of Massachusetts' short-lived leprosarium, now mostly a bird sanctuary.
We visit the colony's cemetery to meet the 14 patients who died here, always a poignant and sobering moment.
And then, after an hour or so on Penikese, it's off to Cuttyhunk, where the striped bass has always been king.
We walk the lonely road to Lookout Hill, laid out to lead to the home of a young man who died in a car accident before that home could be built.
We dodge the golf carts along the way, the primary mode of transportation on the island.
And enjoy the view from the top, 167 feet above the sea on which we just rode.
Before we know it, the day is over, and it's time to head for the mainland. But there's nothing like island time, whether you're on it now, or have memories of what it was like when you were there. Nothing in the world.
Adventure? Well, I guess it depends on your definition of the word. But I'll tell you one thing. Our recent trip to northwest Montana was more than an excursion, and heck of a lot more than a journey.
From the moment we left the airport in Kalispell and the wild horses charged down the street at us, we knew we were in for a good week.
The rodeo that night in Columbia Falls told us we weren't in eastern Massachusetts any more.
Sunrise the next morning at Logan Pass, after a long drive up the Going-to-the-Sun Road, was spectacular.
So thought the bighorn sheep.
And the mule deers.
And the mountain goats.
And the glacier lilies.
We constantly ran into the jammers as they drove their red buses up and down the mountains...
...as we stopped wherever we could find something interesting to photograph.
We never lacked in that department, especially at Lake McDonald...
...where sunsets were sublime...
...and sunrises were even better.
Some of us felt right at home in the woods...
...especially on the Avalanche Lake Trail.
American Dippers entertained us...
...as did the moose that stood alongside the trail to Lake Josephine...
...and the one that swam across the lake in front of our boat.
We ate like the locals.
We spent a night in a tipi in Blackfeet territory, at the Lodgepole Gallery and Tipi Village.
We avoided the grizzlies...
...but were armed just in case.
On a last day whim we visited the National Bison Range...
...and found the stars of the show...
...not to mention a black bear eating huckleberries...
...pronghorns and much more.
So did we find adventure in Montana?
According to my definition, we sure did.
We don't really start the nature side of our birding trip downeast - we call it Puffins and Peatlands - until we get east of Bangor on the Airline. Then, as you can see, we have no choice.
From there we travel through the Deblois Blueberry Barrens...
...where this year we found two adult Upland Sandpipers with two youngsters.
We end the day in Machias with dinner at Helen's and our onlydisappointment of the trip. But it's okay, we understand. The blueberry pie is always sold out by the time we get there. We order ahead for day two. Speaking of which, at sunrise...
...we head for the Bold Coast, passing through Cutler and the Navy radio station...
...where we find bunchberries...
...pyrola...
...and the trail to Boot Head.
The view never gets old.
Then, it's across the border to Campobello...
...where even a quick glimpse of a Spruce Grouse from a car window can be quite satisfying.
In a world of amazing views, the spectacles from East Quoddy Head rate right up there with the best of them: sailing ships, nesting bald eagles, diving black guillemots and more.
And what kind of world would it be if we didn't stop at Monica's Chocolates on the way back home to Machias for the night?
On day three, it's up with the sun and out to Cutler Harbor for the big moment: the puffin trip.
Who even needs to leave the boat?
This year a Northern Gannet made a special landward appearance.
It was outnumbered, though, by the Atlantic Puffins, Razorbills and Common Murres.
The trip back is a time to rest...
...and a chance to glimpse at Little River Lighthouse.
Day four was a chance to catch up with Savannah Sparrows...
...and Nelson's Sparrows on the South Lubec Flats. In the distance, we counted 23 Bald Eagles on the rocks and mud of the flats.
From there, it's up to Quoddy Head State Park to see the Arctic Bog and its exotic plants...
...like sheep laurel...
...spatulate-leafed sundew...
...baked appleberry...
...and the ubiquitous pitcher plant.
With a visit to West Quoddy Head Light, it's time to go home. Unbelievably, we had four days in downeast Maine this year with no fog - and almost felt robbed because of it. Oh well, we'll take it. There'll always be more fog in Maine.
It all started in Plymouth this year, a mile or so down the beach. We got a big surprise when Norman Smith, director of the Blue Hills Trailside Museum and our bander, came down the hyperextended ladder.
There were not two, not three, but four healthy chicks. That's the most we've ever banded in one spot.
The story at Nelson Street beach was half as good - two healthy chicks, a little younger, and an unhatched egg, the first of three we'd find on the trip.
The second was at Hicks Point in Duxbury, where we also had two chicks, doing very well, thank you very much.
Out onto Duxbury Bay we rode, to check on five osprey nests we knew had seen some activity.
Nest after nest had been successful. One had been predated by a great horned owl, but the rest produced youngsters.
The whole scene just became more and more picturesque, as the clouds built in the sky.
And we can honestly say that not every chick looked alike. When Norman came down the ladder each time, the rest of the banding team guessed the ages, and usually, according to Norman, we were right.
Some birds enjoyed the notoriety.
Others didn't.
Our last stop on the Bay, at Saquish Head, produced the youngest of all, three week-and-a-half-old birds. They were so small, in fact, that we couldn't band them. Norman will be back out in a week or so to take care of them.
At the end of day one, the mother at the Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary let her feelings known. We banded her youngsters and called it a day.
We started the following morning in Quincy, on the marshes at Squantum.
Two more chicks, two more bands.
At Great Esker Park in Weymouth, the nest has grown so big that Norman can barely reach into it.
He was able, though, to disentangle a chick from some manmade debris, which would have spelled its demise had it tried to fly.
In all, we encountered 26 osprey chicks from Plymouth to Quincy, while unable to band chicks from several other pairs. Ospreys are back, baby!
