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
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.
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.
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.
You took the fierce from a squall and marched forth
I chased after through sea spray and the rain lashed
I turned and it stung.
But I eventually caught up
With rainbow’s glow and overflow.
You added a hint of tint to hues imbued with radiance.
All with such ease;
Oh Nature, you make me blush
You’re a natural at all you do…..
Today the rain was whipping sideways from the east with wind gusts of 35mph.
It was quiet up Island. Except for a few Harbor seal heads poking through the chop off Hungry Point, most shore birds stayed hunkered down-small flocks of gulls on both golf courses.
Along with this Great Egret, I found a bit of calm down west by the Duck Pond.
Despite displaying breeding plumage under the drenched and tousled “look; this heron seemed to display some natural sense of confidence (sure footed).
While the Egret’s greatness led to the bird becoming Audubon’s iconic symbol-I find that its simple “walk into deeper waters without fear” quality observed by Native Americans is for me most agreeable…
Fast lane along Driving Range-
Osprey sits with fresh fish at drive thru
At a standstill on Hungry Point-
Seals bumper to bumper
Round the bending reeds pondside and eastbound-
Swan makes her bed
Stop.
For slow moving vehicles and curious passerby
This week, as I count returning Osprey soar west and east over Fishers Island I am recalling the bird’s plight in the 1970’s when the use of DDT across eastern states had that species population plummeting down the eastern seaboard. Back then, occupied nests atop telephone poles were often few and far between. Thankfully, the “fish-hawk” made a comeback and indeed came back. Today, our Island continues to provide critical habitat that is essential to the Osprey’s survival and conservation.
Four decades later I find myself presently monitoring 12 precious coastal and interior sites on Island-and have been for the last three years. There are stacks of filled out data sheets being plugged into an evolving database, over a thousand photographs documented, and even more than a few pairs of worn out sneakers…
So, now I feel I must pipe up for the Piping Plover.
Each spring bird migration always has me checking on familiar sites for returning breeding pairs. In two years I have only sighted one single Piping Plover up east at the Big Club Beach-last May. I have yet to document any west on Island.
This tiny shorebird is federally listed as “Threatened” and “Endangered” as the species appears to dwindle in numbers along the Atlantic coast with overall lack of quality foraging and nesting habitat.
I remain hopeful and expectant, continuing to cheer on the Piping Plover; encouraged especially having been able to witness a healthy recovery that even though spanned years, did indeed eventually bring the Osprey “home”.
This week James & Bob Rogers of FI Highway Dept. are generously custom fitting sturdy stakes to even sturdier updated federal signage declaring critical habitat for nesting shore birds visiting the Island. The red & white signs will be placed in historically familiar locations: south side in the sands parallel to the Airport runway and on Big Stony Beach facing the Sound and also Hay Harbor. Here, a sanctuary of sorts prohibits human activity from disturbing Piping Plovers, Oyster Catchers, and Least Terns during spring and early summer.
And perhaps it’s because instilled in my Naturalist thoughts I believe hope and expectancy have no boundaries; that I have just noted again, one tiny Piping Plover companioned with a Sanderling. Both birds scurrying along the wrack line the other afternoon at the Big Club Beach. A returning Pair of Oyster Catchers noted in coves north along the Golf course as well.
But there will be no signs posted this year to protect possible nesting areas east on Island.
While the human imposed notions of public and private, east and west matter not one jot or tittle to these delicate shore birds; the fact that our entire Island offers a wealth of critical habitat to many wildlife species DOES.
So everyone on Fishers Island can and should be supportive of educational outreach:
*Be vigilant and watch where we step along sands and beach grasses.
*Leash any dogs where shore bird nesting activity is present.
*Observe at a respectful distance.
With lessons learned from the Osprey which we nearly didn’t have; we can work with what we do have – each other.
While snow has given way to rain and I never did spot a lamb this March (or a lion…), Islanders eagerly await Edwin the Osprey’s return flight. Thanks to our Henry Ferguson Museum, folks can cozily sit in front of their computer screens and catch and map his every GPS move north(or zig-zag!) towards here, home.
Admittedly, I prefer to be a sort of “welcoming committee” for these birds, get an “interview” off camera.
And we Islanders know that everyone has their own way to welcome the new season-the new and not so new faces…a certain rhythm develops for all of us; like- who will find whom and where. Everything becomes familiar again.
Oyster pond is a very familiar hang out for another particular Osprey here now, and I suppose a lot of mileage on the Recreational Path these years has us hanging out together. By now we can even stop, turn around, and welcome and greet each other with the same whistle!
It’s all part of making and preserving local traditional knowledge for an Island.
In morning light pheasant keeps track
After raccoon
Waited before.
In morning light seals wait
Till our paths cross sand, rock, then water.
Faraway
Eyes meet
Foghorn sounding fills any distance between times
And I wait too, now in morning light.