Ruddy Turnstone Reunion

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One of the best seats in the house for the Naturalist in all of us is Race Point. Walk southwest from the runway and find a warm rock to lean on, or better still a salty, soft “ berm” of kelps, sea lettuce, with mixed greens and reds to squish your toes through. Watch the Orient Point ferry returning to New London, listen to the eerie pulsating of a passing submarine dipping through chop behind the lighthouse.

These afternoons the Tree swallows are swooping and nipping at insects, Red-winged blackbirds clinging to swaying cattails.

The last few years I have looked forward to meeting Ruddy turnstones in this ecosystem specifically in early June. Island “locals”- larger sandpipers sometimes wading, wearing breeding plumage; hungry slender bills poking, sifting and leaving no stone unturned.

 

The Wobbler & Warbler

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I had never considered myself a birder, only because growing up I looked to the sea more often than skyward. Fins, flippers and pelage caught my eye and intrigued me rather than plumage. Songs of the Humpback whale were to me more hummable than say whistling songs of the Warbler.

I have felt wobbly these past years on Fishers Island, getting to know the vast variety of native and migratory song birds out here. But I figure it’s never too late -even to begin to learn to identify them; so I am a “beginner” -a fledgling.  I haven’t though let the fact that there are 54 species of Wood Warbler stop me from getting my wings; though it’s daunting to factor in, add to that, it appears there is a full spectrum of 54 shades of yellow that each type can exhibit a bit of…

For me, staying out in the field a little longer each season is like staying after class for extra help-Nature being the best teacher. Sitting on a lichen covered rock in the evening with my weighty deluxe edition bird guide by Sibley, I am listening more for distinct, audible sweet chirps, and focusing binoculars towards preferred habitat. The spring Peepers are peeping, and the sun is calling it a day.  Then the camera shutter clicks and so does everything for me –just clicks.

 

Life Giving

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The Island is just bursting at its seams…with new LIFE.

From dawn to dusk the vitality of its truest nature is just palpable.

And as I pedal forth through Fort Wright the orchestra of songbirds announces the new day.

The greens and pinks of eager buds start to crowd and push their way towards bloom then prominent shadow.

Barred owl sounding from just up the hill by Duck Pond echoes in agreement.

By noon whistle time, Muskrat grabs lunch; grazing just across my path.

Wrinkles in Island time appear ever slowly rising out of Oyster Pond-Snapping turtle must have some historic tales to tell me but it’s getting late in this evening.

I coast past the Library, listening to a newcomer Osprey in that neighborhood.

With long dangling branch in talons, it ascends over the treetops and then over church steeples.

The sun itself descends off Race Point Light.

Racing now with dusk I take a shortcut home,

Baby Squirrel is chattering above me- both of us remarking about all of this new LIFE.