One Sneaky Bird

,

 

I think the coast is clear. That’s what the Island feels like. Like those of us who have been a bit in hiding are making an appearance. I believe The Island itself sighs with a sense of relief-just all the cars off its back.

And so the scenes shift: I stop looking inward and look outward. September shadows, sultry breezes, chorus of crickets, squalls of swallows dancing over queen anne’s lace

This Green Heron is like us islanders, very secretive. Walking across an old plank, in a brackish marsh, it was spying a frog or two for lunch. I knelt with my camera as the crowd of beachgoers in summer walked by behind us. Just us two sneaky birds….

Just Rippling It Out There

,

 

I like to think that small island dishing and tattling has been replaced these months with fishing and paddling. It’s something to behold-literally, when I can witness the rippling out of sightings and stories that are helping residents here share and instill local traditional knowledge into our own natural history and heritage. Take for instance islander Tracy Brock’s photo of a juvenile green sea turtle. Winding up snorkeling in West Harbor on a Sunday afternoon, she happened to glimpse gliding movement through waving Eel grass. All ready to call it a day, she was amazed to be gifted with a somewhat rare moment (and happen to have the old underwater camera). I told her I was thrilled; as shared communication of healthy, thriving Eel grass meadows in both Long Island and Fishers Island Sounds is vital to our community.  Excitedly, the next evening I related to fourth grader Benjamin Edwards who was sifting through sands on Dock Beach that “out there” a young sea turtle was growing up before our very eyes and added “there could even be family”!

And scuttlebutt has it that several days later dad Jeff Edwards tracked me down at Race Rock Garden Co. to share that afterwards Benjamin actually sighted a sea turtle surface during his rowing class. Somehow enthusiasm convinced us all that perhaps it might even be the same individual turtle Tracy photographed.

And to folks who for years have worked here and help keep Fishers Island afloat; commuting on morning ferries above sea grass meadows in West Harbor-the Baby Doll, Popeye, and Red Sky; word of mouth has it that we are all of us locals, that we all have a stake in conservation here, and we can’t do it without each other. That’s the best story- so pass it on…

 

Listening To Dragonfly

,

 

So transparent your message

On delicate wing

Gift of grace with precision

Poised in these moments you speak

In whirlwind of change,

“To balance so dearly life upon our Island”

 

 

 

 

Silver Eel Cove: A Good Read

,

 

 The other morning I was sitting on the bow section of the Race Point ferry –a great seat for observing one of my favorite monitored sites: Silver Eel Cove where I grew up. Back then it was the old Mystic Isle ferry along with the Olinda both on which I looked forward to my big voyage to New London. A lot has changed. I don’t dive off the old Navy dock anymore, but it is still standing near the old brick pump house. King Mackerel no longer swarm within the slip during August. But red jelly fish still drift in and often stay. Kids don’t spend the day crabbing off the middle dock anymore. They sit there though and use their Smart Phones, then hop on Paddle Boards.

At the end of the school year I treated Jen Burn’s 3rd and 4th graders to a morning of monitoring on land-actually they treated me!

I likened Silver Eel Cove to a great story which they could read over and over again. How the weather will change, the seasons, the scheduled boats, tides, and let’s not forget all those interesting characters. I introduced them to local barn swallows nesting under the ferry dock and a diving cormorant near the Coast Guard Station. Then there is the gang of six local crows that meet the 4:15 boat, two egrets that regularly fly in from Race Rock in the evening time fishing for dinner. Close your eyes and you can hear Pheasants and crickets cheer on the pedestrians. New residents Mr. & Mrs. Mallard waddle up towards Fort Wright.  Lately, I’m reading how Black- crowned Night- heron stands sovereign over Silver Eel Cove. Lots of summer reading.

 

 

Mylar Madness

, ,

Don’t blow them up

Don’t string them up

Don’t dress them up

Pick them up

Give them up

And

BAN

Killdeer Nest & All the Rest

,

 

Islanders have so much to share and talk about these days-after all with Summer folks pouring off the extra ferry boats and weekend guests touching down on the runway, there’s a lot of unfamiliar amidst the familiar.

I feel sometimes like someone shook my "Etch A Sketch" very vigorously. Like I have drawn this detailed map in my thoughts- memorized all the neighborhoods or ecosystems; tidal pools and beaches are community centers, even wrack lines; like little busy streets with the bustle of pipers, plovers, and peeps. I’m not surprised I have become genuinely attached and concerned for my wildlife neighbors. Add to this a bit of rhythm: of tides, ferry schedules, noon whistles, summer store hours, which  family is renting what house; I’m not surprised I am so grateful for local traditional knowledge either.

So when friend and neighbor Lisa Eiriksson shared that she had spotted a delicate and “Oh” unbelievably discreet Killdeer nest I quickly hopped on my bicycle and rode across to South Beach.

There was mama Killdeer (perhaps the same pullover plover !) standing alert between rosehip bushes by the back pond there. I snuck up as not to disturb, happy I can now map out and post a few “tread lightly” signs here next year.

 

 

Muskrat Love

,

 

Ok, I admit it. I love the idea of someday spying a River Otter over maybe happening upon a Muskrat here on Island. And despite the exciting news shared last winter that a River Otter was spotted crossing a snow dusted Castle road, and webbed tracks and dragging tail prints were photographed in deeper snow mid Island, even tell- tale fishy smelling scat documented by yours truly; I am learning to be equally loyal to any Muskrat sighting. Could be the rat thing; that scaly tail. Could be the rodent profile; those protruding teeth. It could though very well be I just need to embrace Muskrat love. While a secretive concealed telemetry device might someday let me follow a tagged and elusive River Otter over here-I enjoy being left to my own devices; local traditional knowledge.

 At the very eastern tip of Fishers Island there is a very territorial Osprey that has a splendid view of Latimer Reef Light. Here she guards her brood atop the telephone pole between Mud and Money ponds. Legend has it there is sunken treasure in one. As for me and my muddy map quest for Muskrat love, this is where I found it – in a treasured moment.

 

That Moment in Mackerel Sky

,

 

You were there in Mackerel Sky

On thermal uplift under Osprey’s eye

The droplet dew on dangling web

The unfurling fern

 Wave’s surge the ebb

The clang of bell as buoy tilts

The crickets cheer  

 Autumn olive wilts

And long tawny grasses-they whisper and wave

And short shadows remain still but for a moment

In Mackerel Sky

 

 

Ruddy Turnstone Reunion

,

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

,

 

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.