Last day in Gaspé
June 26th, 2009
This is our last day here. And we're taking it easy: we've worn out our bodies with hiking, and the planned second boat trip to photograph the cliffs of Bonaventure was cancelled on account of heavy mist.
I haven't racked up as many lifers (new species) as I expected. But some of the lifers have, so to speak, extra large check marks next to them. The diversity of seabirds is small, but what there is, there's a lot of! As for songbirds, I have heard an impressive diversity of them, but seen comparatively few. It turns out spruce trees are hell for bird-watching. They're the perfect camouflage.
The first boat trip to Bonaventure was a rousing success. We got to see the extraordinary panorama of 30,000+ breeding pairs of Northern Gannets, some nestled into the crevices of the cliff and viewable only by boat, others nesting on top and visible from land. Common Murres also nest in colonies on the cliff (but not on top). The two species are in some areas tightly intermingled, but peacably coexist, more or less ignoring each other.
The gannets atop the cliff are cordoned off (by conservation authorities). Their crowded colony extends to the very edge of the cordons, and individuals occasionally duck under and wander a short distance to gather nesting material. They show no fear of humans, even as close as five feet away. Needless to say, the photographic opportunities were excellent.
The day before yesterday, we went whale-watching. Got several brief looks at Minke whales, and numerous excellent looks at a female humpback whale with calf! About the only thing she didn't do is actually breach for us. Mike also got our first good, reasonably close-up photo of a Common Murre. Unlike Black Guillemots and Razorbills (their relatives), they never show up close to the pier, so open ocean from a boat is the best bet.
Yesterday was more hiking at Forillon National Park, this time on the "graves" trail, a path that goes along the rocky coast of the tip of Gaspé peninsula. This vies with Mont Ste-Anne as the best time I've had here. The scenery was magnificent. Birdwise, I managed to pish a few Magnolia Warblers out of hiding (I can see them back home, but seldom), and enjoyed the song of Swainson's Thrushes that has been a constant accompaniment to our hikes up mountains and along cliffs. We saw numerous Black Guillemots, swimming and nesting, and I also scored a lifer: Common Eider, a large, stately sea duck. It's the biggest diving duck in North America, and also the most oceanic. Most of the "sea ducks" only really go to sea in the winter; eiders stay there all year long. I glimpsed four of the black and white males in flight, and we also found several families of females (mottled brown) with young on the water.
While walking alone through a grassy area, I paused, drank some water, sneezed--and heard a rustle in the grass beside me. I looked over and saw a porcupine no more than three feet away from me. I moved on. And speaking of animals one does not want to meet, we got an awesome view of a black bear. It's the first time either of us had ever seen a bear in the wild. He was sitting on what looked like a rather precarious perch, on a grassy ledge some distance down, overlooking the sea. We wondered if he had designs on the nearby eider ducklings.
I doubted he'd be able to reach us anytime soon. But Mike wasn't so sure, so when the bear moved, we did too.
June 26th, 2009
This is our last day here. And we're taking it easy: we've worn out our bodies with hiking, and the planned second boat trip to photograph the cliffs of Bonaventure was cancelled on account of heavy mist.
I haven't racked up as many lifers (new species) as I expected. But some of the lifers have, so to speak, extra large check marks next to them. The diversity of seabirds is small, but what there is, there's a lot of! As for songbirds, I have heard an impressive diversity of them, but seen comparatively few. It turns out spruce trees are hell for bird-watching. They're the perfect camouflage.
The first boat trip to Bonaventure was a rousing success. We got to see the extraordinary panorama of 30,000+ breeding pairs of Northern Gannets, some nestled into the crevices of the cliff and viewable only by boat, others nesting on top and visible from land. Common Murres also nest in colonies on the cliff (but not on top). The two species are in some areas tightly intermingled, but peacably coexist, more or less ignoring each other.
The gannets atop the cliff are cordoned off (by conservation authorities). Their crowded colony extends to the very edge of the cordons, and individuals occasionally duck under and wander a short distance to gather nesting material. They show no fear of humans, even as close as five feet away. Needless to say, the photographic opportunities were excellent.
The day before yesterday, we went whale-watching. Got several brief looks at Minke whales, and numerous excellent looks at a female humpback whale with calf! About the only thing she didn't do is actually breach for us. Mike also got our first good, reasonably close-up photo of a Common Murre. Unlike Black Guillemots and Razorbills (their relatives), they never show up close to the pier, so open ocean from a boat is the best bet.
Yesterday was more hiking at Forillon National Park, this time on the "graves" trail, a path that goes along the rocky coast of the tip of Gaspé peninsula. This vies with Mont Ste-Anne as the best time I've had here. The scenery was magnificent. Birdwise, I managed to pish a few Magnolia Warblers out of hiding (I can see them back home, but seldom), and enjoyed the song of Swainson's Thrushes that has been a constant accompaniment to our hikes up mountains and along cliffs. We saw numerous Black Guillemots, swimming and nesting, and I also scored a lifer: Common Eider, a large, stately sea duck. It's the biggest diving duck in North America, and also the most oceanic. Most of the "sea ducks" only really go to sea in the winter; eiders stay there all year long. I glimpsed four of the black and white males in flight, and we also found several families of females (mottled brown) with young on the water.
While walking alone through a grassy area, I paused, drank some water, sneezed--and heard a rustle in the grass beside me. I looked over and saw a porcupine no more than three feet away from me. I moved on. And speaking of animals one does not want to meet, we got an awesome view of a black bear. It's the first time either of us had ever seen a bear in the wild. He was sitting on what looked like a rather precarious perch, on a grassy ledge some distance down, overlooking the sea. We wondered if he had designs on the nearby eider ducklings.
I doubted he'd be able to reach us anytime soon. But Mike wasn't so sure, so when the bear moved, we did too.
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