The Green Barrel Vigil - Dream Yr Update (part 1)

GREGORY.B.MILLER@bge.com
Tue, 8 Dec 1998 17:20:20 -0500


Howdy All!

Here's the Executive Summary for birding this weekend in Rhode
Island and Massachusetts:

     Long-billed Murrelet     probably (Dec 4)

Other goodies:

     Iceland Gull (or was it the leucistic Ring-billed Gull I saw
later in the day?)
     Black-headed Gull
     Black Guillemot
     Razorbill
     Harlequin Duck
     Great Cormorant
     Red-throated Loon
     Northern Gannet
     Purple Sandpiper
     American Avocet

     Unfortunately, "probably" does not constitute a tick on the
list.  This, for a die-hard lister, is the hardest status to
swallow.  "Painful" is the word association that first comes to
mind!  So what happened?  Here's the tale of another
uncomfortable miss...
     I returned from Florida in the wee hours of Tuesday morning,
December 1.  Even though I was very tired, I checked my email
anyway and found out about the Long-billed Murrelet, discovered
this weekend in Narragansett, Rhode Island.  The Long-billed
Murrelet (a recent species split with Marbled Murrelet), native
to Siberia, is a tiny little black and white seabird, and a
relative of the puffin.  It is only about the size of a football.
 A rare Mexican vagrant, the Rufous-capped Warbler in Hereford,
Arizona was also seen again.  Wasted, I fell into bed, deciding
to make a decision where to go tomorrow after some rest.
     The work week was long as I put in 37 hours in just three
days while monitoring the rare bird reports late at night.  I
couldn't get away at all from work either as a new version of
some software I'd written was scheduled for rollout Wednesday
evening.
     Warm weather continued in the East, continuing to provide me
with little or no hope of my other target birds:  the stately
white owl of the northern tundra, the Snowy Owl, or the tiniest
seabird of the North Atlantic, the Dovekie.  I checked on flights
and prices.  The combination of cheap flights as well as
continued reports of the Long-billed Murrelet through Wednesday,
prompted me to head back to New England.  I purchased my tickets
on-line over the web Thursday night, December 3.  I had seen no
updates on either internet listserv, BIRDCHAT or MASSBIRD about
the murrelet.  I followed my on-going philosophy:  "If I do not
go after a bird, it'll be a certainty that I do not see it."
     The software rollout had been smooth except for a single
hitch.  Unfortunately, it was important enough that I had to stay
late Thursday night to figure out the cause of the problem.  I
desparately hoped the solution would be simple and that I would
not have to work through the weekend.  I was incredibly relieved
when I not only found the problem, but also knew the solution
would be an easy fix.  Imminent disaster was averted!  I went in
to work for three hours Friday morning and made the necessary
changes for a new program to be tested.  I hurried to the bank to
get money for my trip, blitzed home and packed, and headed for
the Baltimore/Washington airport for the jillionth time this
year.
     The 1:05pm flight to Providence, Rhode Island was uneventful
and I hustled with my two carry-ons directly off the plane to get
my rental car.  No baggage claim for this guy.  Elapsed time at
the rental desk was under four minutes.  I caught the next
shuttle to the rental car pickup lot sitting at the front so I
could be the first one off.  The race for daylight was foremost
in my mind.  I loaded up my tiny Ford, took a quick look at a
map, and head for I-95 South.  I turned off on Rt 4 South which
turned into Rt 1.  I tried reading my directions while driving.
Unfortunately, I had used a smaller font to print the reports so
I would save paper.  I squinted down and the paper.  I looked up.
  I squinted down and found out I'd lost my place.  The miles
whizzed by.  Where was my next turn?  I had already passed by
more than the six lights stated in the internet directions.
There it is.  Finally.  An exit for Narragansett.  The adrenaline
was already at work!  I headed East on Rt 1A to the rotary.
Gosh, I despise rotaries.  But this one was pretty tame.  Three
quarters of the way around it, I continued toward Narragansett on
1A.
     The sun at my back seemed way too low for 3:00pm.  I felt
the same sence of urgency I had felt a month and a half ago while
I was on my 2400-mile road trip from Oklahoma to Arizona to see
the Northern Jacana.  Another very rare Mexican vagrant, this
dark, rusty shorebird with a bright, yellow beak, and huge,
yellow feet had been delighting birders for over a week.  I
arrived merely hours after it had last been seen.  It was a
heartbreaking miss.  Was it Arizona's third record ever?  I
couldn't remember.
     I snapped back to reality as the beautiful blue waters
glittered before me in the late afternoon sun.  I was in shirt
sleeves as it was incredibly warm for Rhode Island in December.
I drove underneath the big, dark stone towers and the old bridge
arching over the road.  The Coast Guard Restaurant appeared
immediately on my left.  I parked along the street as stated in
my notes.  I was in such a hurry, I decided I should scan the
shoreline for a group of birders first before unpacking and
setting up my telescope.  I hadn't walked 10 yards before a dark
sport utility vehicle pulled up and the window starting rolling
down.  I recognized it immediately.
     "Tyler!"
     He was one of my good birding friends from Southern
Maryland.  I knew Tyler Bell and Jane Kostenko were driving up
and that they'd started out around 4:00am.  The eight-hour drive
would put them at Narragansett, Rhode Island around noon.  But
they were still here.  This did not bode well.  But that sense
didn't take long to change...
     "I think we've got the bird!", Tyler exclaimed.  "Go up
around the side of the restaurant!  I'm going to tell the other
birders down at Hazzard!"  The vehicle drove off.  I bounded up
the steps around the side of the restaurant to the upper level.
I felt like everything was now in slow motion--like a dream where
you just can't go fast enough.  Several other birders were there,
scopes all trained in one direction.  I could actually feel my
skin tingle with the energy as I stepped up to the birders and
looked in the same direction.  The birds were minuscule specs in
my 10x binoculars.
     Jane looked away from the telescope for a second and
immediately recognized me.  We exchanged a quick, happy greeting
and I got to look through the scope.  Unfortunately, the bird was
no longer visible from that angle.  Pretty soon, Tyler arrived
and we all took turns looking.  For a long half an hour, no one
had the bird.  The little rascal had eluded us!
     At 3:30pm, though, Jane found a group of small alcids out by
the marker that looked like a green barrel.  There were 5-6 birds
feeding.  These were all smaller than the Common and Red-throated
Loons and Red-breasted Mergansers that were still present, but at
other locations.  I listened as she briefly described the little
black and white birds, but her voice trailed off for a second and
then she started rattling off an excitedly hasty description.
     "Oh!  Wait!  I've got an even smaller bird!  Very small!
Short neck!  Black on the back!  Long thin white mark over the
wing!  Black cap and nape!  Quick!  Quick!  Take a look!  It's
moving left in the middle of the group!"
     Once again I could feel the warmth in my face as it flushed
with excitement--not unlike that of an embarrassed blush.  I
peered carefully through the eyepiece.  The warm air was still
causing a considerable amount of heat shimmer.  I looked through
the small flock.
     "These are definitely small alcids", I thought aloud, "but
I'm not sure what they are--maybe Black Guillemots?  It looks
like they have white patches on their backs"  I had never seen
more than two guillemots at a time--never a group.  I stopped my
musings as the smallest bird of the group popped up from under
water and became visible for the first time.
     "Oh, my gosh!  I think this is it!", I exclaimed, almost out
of breath.  "Quick!  Tyler!  Take a look!"  Already, the bird was
back under water and was lost to sight.
     Light was beginning to fade fast as the sun dropped below
the buildings behind us.  But the heat shimmer was going away,
too.  A few minutes passed and Tyler refound the bird.  This
time, it was Tyler's turn to be excited about the sighting.
Rhode Island birder Dan Finizia was there, too.  Dan had added
the Long-billed Murrelet earlier in the week as his 350th state
bird!  Incredible!  Dan looked through the scope and the bird was
lost again.  At no time could all of us get a look consecutively.
 The bird was actively feeding and would be completely lost to
sight for several minutes at a time.
     None of us had a positive id on the other alcids either.
This fact had me worried.  If we could not id the other birds for
certain, how could we be sure of the murrelet?  The shape of the
tiny murrelet, however, was very recognizable.  I had seen dozens
of Marbled Murrelets this year in several locations in Alaska and
a few in California.  I was certain it was a murrelet and pretty
sure it was the bird--the Long-billed Murrelet.  The view was
less than optimal with the distant birds in the waning light.  By
4:20pm we had lost birding visibility altogether.  We all
remained on the deck for another 10 minutes discussing our
sightings and id characteristics and possibilities.  But our
discussion came up inconclusive.
     I was discouraged, but I knew in my heart that the addition
of one dubious bird for the year was not worth jeopordizing the
integrity of the rest of the list.  I think I sighed out loud,
but then I resolved to myself that I would look for the bird the
next day, even if it took all day.  A better look was all I
needed.  Surely we could refind the bird.  It would be Saturday
and there would be many more birders from all over who would be
searching intently.
     Tyler and Jane headed North for the night and I stayed just
a quarter mile away at a very pleasant Victorian B&B, the 1900
House on Kingstown Road.  It was my first Bed and Breakfast for
the year and a very rich experience.  Various antique
furnishings, Victorian wall designs and decorations, quaint
lighting, wooden floors and throw rugs gave this place a warm,
comfortable ambience.  It made me feel like I was visiting the
welcome home of some very old relative.
     I had a fairly quick standard fare dinner of fish and chips
at one of the local family restaurants, Twin Willows.  I drove
back to the 1900 House immediately as I was tired again.  (Is
this new?  Ha!  I think not!)  I spent an hour chatting with the
kind and friendly owners, Bill and Sandy Panzeri, before retiring
for the evening in all the comforts of grandma's house.
     I drove down to the Coast Guard Restaurant on Saturday
morning, December 5, where I met Tyler and Jane again.  We set up
our scopes and panned the waters thoroughly.  Nothing looked like
the birds we had seen the night before.  A few minutes later, we
were joined by more birders in search of the murrelet.  At one
point during the day, there were at least 20 telescopes set up
and pointing northeast.  Later in the morning, we got to meet
Shai Mitra, the finder of the Long-billed Murrelet.  We thanked
him for the find and he stayed with us for a couple hours.
Several birders decided to try for the murrelet at varying
locations along the coast and departed.  A good number of us
stayed, though.
     At 8:25am, I drove Tyler and Jane back to the B&B I had
stayed at last night.  I had asked the owners last night how much
they charged for breakfast and whether or not I could bring my
two birding friends.  Don't laugh.  This *is* an unusual request.
<grin> Bill and Sandy were extremely gracious.  They told me that
they would be happy to seat my two friends for breakfast at no
extra charge.  Unbelievable!  What hospitality!  We were seated
at a table with another couple, Mike and Lisa, who had spent the
night and were headed out for some Christmas shopping.
     The gourmet breakfast was scrumptous as we delighted our
tastebuds with baked apples in goblets.  There was coffee and
cranberry juice, and fresh muffins and bagels, thick Belgian
waffles with Sandy's special cranberry-walnut topping, bacon on
the side, and the plate was garnished with fresh fruit.  It was
tantalizing to behold.  (my mouth is watering all over again as
I'm writing this!)  We all had a delightful time chatting.  Mike
and Lisa were intrigued with our birding adventures and that we
had traveled all the way from Maryland just to see *a* tiny
little bird.  We had to pull ourselves away and head back to the
stakeout.  Tyler, Jane, and I returned to the Coast Guard
Restaurant.
     A few birders from New Jersey arrived.  I recognized one of
them and went over and introduced myself to Fred Ditmars.  I had
met Fred birding at Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge along the
Rio Grande in Texas in April of 1996.  I bumped into him again in
an airport (was it Charlotte or Nashville?) in late July of last
year.  Both of us were headed to California for birding then.
Fred recognized me last year as a birder in the airport as he
noticed the tripod propped up against my chair and me poring over
Rich Stallcup's Seabirds book.  What was the give-away? <grin>
My flight across the country was much shorter that day as we
found our enthusiasm for birding and listing was mutual.
     "Have you seen the bird yet?", Fred inquired.
     "Maybe", I said, as I went over the details of the sighting
from last night.
     "That sounds very convincing.  Anything today?"
     "Nope.  Nada today.  In fact, we haven't seen any alcids
today.  How long are you guys staying?"
     "Just today.  It's better than nothing."
     We continued looking.  My feet were getting sore from
standing.  My eyes were fatigued from staring.  Ahh.  Such are
the rigors of a stakeout.  This is always a test of patience and
persistence.  Do I wait here?  Do I go to another place?  What if
I'm somewhere else and the bird shows up here?  What if I'm here
and the bird shows up somewhere else?  Do I dare take a break?
Sometimes, I even find it hard to take long enough to go to the
restroom.  Oooh.  Such a quandary!  What to do?  The answer is
really not all that hard.  It's the same every time, too...keep
looking!
     Around noon, Jane and Tyler set out for the eight-hour
return trip to Maryland and I went to lunch with the birders from
New Jersey.  We enjoyed a quick sandwich at a nearby deli.  They
were inquisitive about my big year aspirations.  I gobbled my
sandwich in between questions as I saw quickly that the rest of
them were going to be finished long before me.  We hurried back
to the top level of the Coast Guard Restaurant, refreshed and
ready for a few more hours of searching.  As I got to the top of
the stairs I saw an uncommon bird, a Black-headed Gull with my
unassisted eye.
     "Is that a Black-headed Gull?", I called out as I didn't
want to jump the gun since I had made the id without the help of
my optics.  One of the other New Jersey birders, Bob Lewis was
"on it" right away with a positve confirmation.  I now had my
binoculars up and was calling out directions as the bird passed
markers and buoys and other birds.
     "Hey!  You want to try going to lunch and coming back
again?", one of the many birders joked to me after the bird was
out of view.  We all laughed.
     After another hour the leucistic Ring-billed Gull passed
over the deck.  It's white wingtips were stunning with only the
outer two primaries having just a smidgen of pale gray on the
feathers.  The bill was plainly ringed with black and the feet
were a dull yellow.  What an oddity.
     By 1:30pm, birders were watching Herring Gull watch a rat
run between the rocks near the water's edge.  By 2:30pm, the
birders were now watching a little gray and white cat stalk the
aforementioned rat through the rocks.  Yes.  Boredom was at a new
height.  Birders watching cats looking for rats.  Oooh, don't get
me started on this one!   Even I was mildly amused with what
little activity we had below us.  <grin> Stakeouts can be SOOO
boring!
     All day long we had people from the restaurant walk upstairs
and ask us what we were looking at.  Inevitably, our answer was
"Nothing right now" and then we'd proceed to explain about our
quest for the tiny, black and white seabird from Siberia.  Many
visitors were amazed, genuinely interested, and some, of course,
thought we were a little crazy.  (We are a little crazy, aren't
we?)
     Late in the afternoon, we were joined by some fresh faces,
including some birders from Massachusetts.  As the time neared
3:30pm, I started getting a second wind.  This was the time
yesterday that we'd had the bird.  I'd seen nothing today that
fit the bill for any of the alcids we'd seen the night before.
Some of the fresher birders were calling out possible small birds
pretty regularly.
     I got a particular kick out of a Massachusetts birder whose
name was Joe (I don't remember his last name).  Joe's a birder
with a sharp eye and some pretty dry quibs.  Several enthusiastic
birders would have what appeared as small birds, describe their
location, and Joe would be "on the bird" in a hurry.  And then,
with the same tone of voice as the character Bones on Star Trek
would have whenever he said, "He's dead, Jim.", Joe would pipe
out dryly, "It's a loon.".   Ha!  He could have said, "It's a
loon, Jim." and it would have sounded the same!  For the next
half an hour, I heard "It's a loon." over and over.  I think I
chuckled to myself every time.
     Finally, I tried another very scientific test.  I tried
"pishing" to draw the murrelet in close.  My experiment failed,
however.
     Someone chimed in, "Hey!  Do you have a Long-billed Murrelet
tape?"  We all howled.  That was hilarious.
     Someone else added, "How about chumming?"
     "What does a Long-billed Murrelet eat?", another birder
questioned.
     "Pop-Tarts.  They LOVE Pop-Tarts", I joshed.  More laughter.

     A little humor helps break the heavy feeling of making such
an effort at seeing a bird, but coming up empty.
     The daylight came to an end.  No murrelet.  No small
seabirds.  Nada.  But it was still enjoyable as we shared our
birding experiences throughout the day.  Now it was decision time
again.  Do I stay here another day?  Do I head North to
Massachusetts and try for Snowy Owl and Dovekie, even though the
weather was not right and there were no reports?  I decided I was
ready to move on to another location.  I drove North in the dark
up Interstate 95 and stayed in a motel in Danvers, North of
Boston.
     I headed out to Plum Island to look for a Snowy Owl, even
though it was only a very remote chance that I'd see one.
Besides, it is one of my favorite places to bird in New England.
At the first parking lot, I climbed the dune to gain a higher
vantage to look over the marsh.  But there was no Snowy Owl to be
found.  I saw several Northern Harriers slowly sailing low over
the marsh, tottering side-to-side on wings angled at a dihedral.
A dark Rough-legged Hawk sat poised on a lone post out in the
marsh, seemingly ready to drop down on some unsuspecting rodent.

---end of part 1---

Greg Miller
Lusby, MD