---Green Barrel Vigil part 2--- Except for the pair of American Avocets at Hellcat Marsh, Plum Island was pretty slow today. I asked some birders about Dovekie. One had been reported a week or two ago from Halibut Point State Park near Rockport, Massachusetts. I got directions and headed South, ready for another change of pace. I passed through the historic towns of Ipswich and Essex on my way and told myself that these towns would be fun to visit at another time. The narrow winding streets, lined with old houses close together reminded me of another era. The little shops along the street reminded me a little of some of my brief travels to Europe. In an hour, I was hiking the wide, wood chip covered path out to the Atlantic Ocean. The overlook is on a tall rocky cliff that juts into the ocean and affords a sterling view of a splendid seascape. The bright afternoon sun was at my back and patches of heavy fog would move through like giant wispy clouds at ground level. Large rafts of scoters, dark sea ducks, were visible immediatly from shore. All three species were represented, Black, Surf, and White-winged, with White-winged Scoters being the most common. The large white birds with stiff-winged flight in the distance were Northern Gannets. Like pelicans, these large seabirds would cruise lazily at 40-50 feet, tuck their wings and dive into to cold ocean waters. This is always a spectacle to me. A couple dozen of my favorite sea ducks, the beautifully colored slate and rust Harlequin Ducks, complete with clean white trim were just off the rocky shoreline below in the dazzling sunlight. Awesome! In the next hour and a half, I watched six Razorbills fly by the point. This black and white relative of the puffin is nearly as chuffy and a little larger and longer-winged than it's cousin. I finally laid eyes on some small object, but I had difficulty in making out what it was. Ahhh. "It's an Aluminum Alcid", I proclaimed proudly. The other birders laughed. It wasn't long before I did find an alcid, a tiny seabird. This bird was mostly pale with a dark back and a large white patch visible on its wing. "I've got a Black Guillemot!", I exclaimed. The others got the bird in their scopes. Soon, everyone had a look at the distant alcid. It was a good bird. This bird was about the same distance away as the small group of birds I had seen Friday night. I felt more certain of my original gut feel. It was strangely haunting. I looked at my watch. 2:30pm. I decided to try to get back down to Narragansett, Rhode Island. Sadly, I ran out of light, though, still North of the Rhode Island state line. I was tired again and this time, ready to go home. I continued down to the airport, turned in my rental, checked in at the gate and found the plane had extra seats available. This would save a night at a motel and a day's parking fee. I was already too late to save a day's charge on the rental car. The trip back to Baltimore was uneventful as I mulled over the findings of the weekend. Another weekend and no new birds. Ouch. Oh, well. That's what makes a sport of birding. Sometimes it's what you *don't* find that makes birding more real. When you then do find a target, it has more meaning. Rarity would lose its value if you were batting 1000 on every one of your tries. (But sometimes, I think it sure would be fun to have a streak like that!) I considered my big year. I have been very lucky. 712 is a great number. I think I managaed a weak smile before I drifted off peacefully, unable to stay awake. Another weekend would bring more opportunities... ---end of part 2--- this is the end another long-winded report <grin> -- Greg Miller Lusby, Maryland, USA Home- gregorym@erols.com Work- gregory.b.miller@bge.com WWW- http://www.erols.com/gregorym