Adapting To Winter

The wind gusts whipping upon Dock beach are unforgiving this afternoon.
Snow drifts mixed with sand blasting against my legs and binoculars fogging up with every breath.

I spot what I believe is a pair of Semipalmated (palmated means “webbed” between toes) Sandpipers-each standing on one leg.

These shorebirds minimize losing heat while tucking the other leg in.

Like us putting our cold hands in warm pockets, they too adapt to this frigid clime.

Breeding high up in the Arctic, these migrants may fly far down to South America.

Barley Field Cove & Critical Habitat

I find myself again writing about Eelgrass, which hasn’t always been my intention, but this New Year I feel it should be my “Attention” and maybe even yours.

While science students and I can learn and share facts about this flowering underwater plant named Zostera Marina, and the museum curator might inform me that early settlers banked houses and barns, and covered cellar storehouses with dried eelgrass – my work outdoors is teaching me daily that eelgrass meadows surrounding Fishers Island are a HUGE component of its unique environment.

Experts on the topic will tell you:

Eelgrass maintains shoreline stability and helps prevent erosion

Eelgrass supports several commercial fisheries by providing shelter and structure to ecosystems supporting foraging habitat.

Lobster, mussels, clams, razor clams, periwinkles, rock crabs, winter and summer  flounder, striped bass, bay scallops, blue crab (and more!) all need eelgrass  to survive and hopefully flourish.

Scientists know that Nutrient Pollution is detrimental to Zostera Marina.

Discharges from sewage, septic systems, fertilizer run off from lawns, golf courses, and agriculture fields stimulates algae growth, clouding the seawater and reducing necessary sunlight to promote healthy growth of eelgrass meadows.

While I am not an expert in the “field” of eelgrass, I continue to submit photos in hopes Islanders will, like myself, pay ATTENTION.

 

Snowy Owl’s Great Spirit

As I headed out this morning I had one thought. It wasn’t to hurry up and monitor Chocomount, Isabella, and South beaches. It was more humbling.

A proper Thank You sent to the Universe.

“I am so grateful for the solitude and beauty of this Island and many sacred moments of Nature that are quietly shared with me.”

I was to acknowledge that I love what I do.

After surveying the day’s appointed sites, I heeded the “You are welcome” and went on my own “walk-about”. When I got out of the car I left the camera behind  thinking I am off work now…even though that still voice(that same one that found Officer Kushigian’s  jumper! ) told me to “Bring the camera”.

I walked for almost an hour, thinking about the Christmas Bird Count and how much I learned- but that day, we didn’t see the Snowy Owl that folks spoke of. The tide today was extremely low so I looked down a lot searching for sea glass….

Then I looked up.

Met face to face with the sacred moment for which I had thanked a couple of hours beforehand.

“Forgive me for not listening and taking the camera”

The wind gusts were picking up to 30mph, the skies turning dark and gray.

I turned abruptly around and walked all the way back to the car grabbed the camera and walked all the way back.

Like walking across the Alaskan tundra again.

I didn’t run or cheat and take a shortcut-I peacefully asked for patience and the opportunity to share my passion for these moments of Nature’s Spirit.

The Snowy Owl

I remembered the elder Aleuts in the Pribilofs speaking of this majestic messenger of wisdom, intuition, and as a symbol for “winds of change”.

We both acknowledged our own presence in the company of eachother.

“You are lovely”, I said softly.

I don’t often speak when I am out in the field.

It just happened.

Winter’s Vein

Wind through branch circulates against sky
Fractured ice moans

Threads of marsh grass lie entombed

Nature’s disposition so harsh and hard

Lone and hungry coyote

awaits

The warmth and pulse of Spring’s thaw

 

Call 1-888-LIMULUS

That’s what the round white tag said.
And I did.

Islanders can help work with the US Fish and Wildlife Service by reporting tagged Horse Shoe crab or “Limulus polyphemus”.

By filling out an online data sheet I will soon find out where # 287680 was originally released.

Only four out of five species of Horse shoe crabs are still living today. This number is dropping because of pollution, loss of habitat and over harvesting.

That’s this January’s morning in a nutshell…and speaking of nutshells, poked a camera in an old tree cavity and from the looks of its cache, Squirrels on Island are doing just fine this winter!

 

Been There Swum That

Admittedly, I thought it was quite unfair that as a kid I was signed up for
THe earliest swim lessons of the morning at Hay Harbor.

Standing there wet and shivering dockside when it seemed I just got out of my slippers bedside.

Braving the choppy waters in July with eel grass strands tickling me didn’t make me laugh, and darting and sprinting around jelly fish in August made me tired enough to call it a day by 9am!

Yesterday, I also recollected how as a kid I always wondered what the winters were like on Fishers Island.

Through life I have become a very strong swimmer (even on land!) going greater distances, learning to pace myself, take courage, remembering to exhale….

Somehow, I believe those early morning swimming lessons paid off in many ways.

Empty Nests

It is cold and crisp, 14 degrees, slight wind.
I have been thinking about the emptiness of an Island in January.

Mind you, it doesn’t feel empty-it just appears that way.

In winters past I used to be surprised at all the summer homes I could see once the trees became bare and cold.

Now I just see nests.

Today, I was intrigued with the interiors of these sturdy, windblown, and weathered dwellings.

Summer nests now insulated with plastic, snow, even wrapped with wool scarf remnants (oh, Crow you are clever!)

and a hollow hive swaying……