Glace Bay Lifers
July 3rd, 2015
Early in our stay at Cape Breton we went to a place called Schooner Pond that I had found out about on the net--very much off the beaten tourist track, but known for good birding among the locals. It consisted of a couple of freshwater ponds as well as a long trail hugging the edge of sea cliffs. I will say, as an aside, that those sea cliffs are where I fell in love with Cape Breton. I will never forget the patchwork of vivid multicolored mosses nor the way the scent of juniper mingled with the smell of the sea. I will not forget the stunted trees bent 45 degrees back, and the gnarled, bleached-white skeletons of trees that finally gave up the fight. I remember thinking that I could camp out the rest of my life on those cliffs, those bleak and beautiful cliffs, and be happy. (Spiritually speaking, that is. Perhaps not physically speaking. It was a mite nippy.)
At any rate, we had good birding, including a mature Bald Eagle getting harassed by nesting blackbirds, a great view of a Black Scoter group swimming close to shore, and a pair of Northern Shovelers. As we were about to leave we ran into a fellow who gave us the universal sign--lifted his binoculars at us--and asked, "see anything good?" (No, the Bald Eagle didn't count. Cape Breton locals are about as blase about Bald Eagles as I am about Double-Crested Cormorants.) We were surprised to learn that the shovelers were a rarity in Cape Breton. In fact he had come looking specifically for them, chasing a report on eBird.
After some thought ("what would an Ottawan be interested in?") he suggested Glace Bay to us as a birding destination, and listed off some of what we might find there. He was not half-through with his list before I was sold. We went there about five days later and I hit pay dirt: two lifers in quick succession!
The first:
The above do not do justice to the sheer cuteness of a Piping Plover. I wish I'd taken video! It's a highly endangered species with only some 6500 of them left in the world. Unfortunately Piping Plovers nest on sandy outer beaches, a habitat that humans also love and tend to wreak havoc on (from the birds' point of view, anyway.) It doesn't take many beach-roving ATV's, or many pet dogs, before a Piping Plover nursery is defunct.
Glace Bay has one breeding pair. The individual we found could not have been more cooperative. I walked down the beach to the big "Piping Plovers nest here" sign, and (s)he was right in front of it! However, since I was dealing with an endangered species, I did not make any attempt to get closer to it to get better pictures.
Nelson's Sparrow, my fourth and final lifer of the trip. This shy skulker breeds in salt marshes of the North Atlantic, as well as some freshwater marshes out west. Usually every autumn, in September and October, small numbers of Nelson's Sparrows migrate through Ottawa, but every year they've eluded me. A breeding Nelson's Sparrow is somewhat easier to uncover! It has an explosive little song like radio static ("kshhhhhhh"). [ETA: one website compares it to the sound of hot metal immersed in water, which is probably a better analogy!] Every time it sang, that explosive sound stood out amidst the soft, lispy voices of the Savannah Sparrows that surrounded it. I stalked it by the sound and eventually managed to get a clear view. I was surprised to then see it do a skysong: fly straight up in the air, "kshhhhhhh", then drop back down into the grass.
That's it for my vacation photos. Once I've developed some of my husband's many scenery photos, I may be able to show you why I fell in love with those cliffs at Schooner Pond.
July 3rd, 2015
Early in our stay at Cape Breton we went to a place called Schooner Pond that I had found out about on the net--very much off the beaten tourist track, but known for good birding among the locals. It consisted of a couple of freshwater ponds as well as a long trail hugging the edge of sea cliffs. I will say, as an aside, that those sea cliffs are where I fell in love with Cape Breton. I will never forget the patchwork of vivid multicolored mosses nor the way the scent of juniper mingled with the smell of the sea. I will not forget the stunted trees bent 45 degrees back, and the gnarled, bleached-white skeletons of trees that finally gave up the fight. I remember thinking that I could camp out the rest of my life on those cliffs, those bleak and beautiful cliffs, and be happy. (Spiritually speaking, that is. Perhaps not physically speaking. It was a mite nippy.)
At any rate, we had good birding, including a mature Bald Eagle getting harassed by nesting blackbirds, a great view of a Black Scoter group swimming close to shore, and a pair of Northern Shovelers. As we were about to leave we ran into a fellow who gave us the universal sign--lifted his binoculars at us--and asked, "see anything good?" (No, the Bald Eagle didn't count. Cape Breton locals are about as blase about Bald Eagles as I am about Double-Crested Cormorants.) We were surprised to learn that the shovelers were a rarity in Cape Breton. In fact he had come looking specifically for them, chasing a report on eBird.
After some thought ("what would an Ottawan be interested in?") he suggested Glace Bay to us as a birding destination, and listed off some of what we might find there. He was not half-through with his list before I was sold. We went there about five days later and I hit pay dirt: two lifers in quick succession!
The first:
The above do not do justice to the sheer cuteness of a Piping Plover. I wish I'd taken video! It's a highly endangered species with only some 6500 of them left in the world. Unfortunately Piping Plovers nest on sandy outer beaches, a habitat that humans also love and tend to wreak havoc on (from the birds' point of view, anyway.) It doesn't take many beach-roving ATV's, or many pet dogs, before a Piping Plover nursery is defunct.
Glace Bay has one breeding pair. The individual we found could not have been more cooperative. I walked down the beach to the big "Piping Plovers nest here" sign, and (s)he was right in front of it! However, since I was dealing with an endangered species, I did not make any attempt to get closer to it to get better pictures.
Nelson's Sparrow, my fourth and final lifer of the trip. This shy skulker breeds in salt marshes of the North Atlantic, as well as some freshwater marshes out west. Usually every autumn, in September and October, small numbers of Nelson's Sparrows migrate through Ottawa, but every year they've eluded me. A breeding Nelson's Sparrow is somewhat easier to uncover! It has an explosive little song like radio static ("kshhhhhhh"). [ETA: one website compares it to the sound of hot metal immersed in water, which is probably a better analogy!] Every time it sang, that explosive sound stood out amidst the soft, lispy voices of the Savannah Sparrows that surrounded it. I stalked it by the sound and eventually managed to get a clear view. I was surprised to then see it do a skysong: fly straight up in the air, "kshhhhhhh", then drop back down into the grass.
That's it for my vacation photos. Once I've developed some of my husband's many scenery photos, I may be able to show you why I fell in love with those cliffs at Schooner Pond.
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Mike
July 4th, 2015 at 11:56 am
The plover was indeed very cute!
I'm impressed at the sparrow pic... that took some stalking. It catches the warm brown on the wings well.