Frost frustrated me at times last night as it covered the lens of my telescope and hid the view of the universe – and frost frustrated me again this morning as I had to pull over twice on the way to Gooseberry to clear my windshield. (OK, I should have done a better job while the car was in the driveway. But when I got to Gooseberry frost turned out to be the whole show – and what a beautiful show it was.  Combine heavy frost and the sun finding some slots in the clouds to peek through and you have a formula for a beautiful walk.  And no I didn’t see the seal – as I say, it was a stealth seal.  I walked out onto the Southeast Beach, saw some distant ducks, took some pictures – saw a guy walking his dog nearby – no seal. But the guy caught up with me later and said I had missed the seal. It had  been on the beach, he said, and was about 30 yards out in the water when I was taking pictures.  (It was apparently scared into the water by his dog – darn it.) Seals are occasional winter visitors in our region – but I’ve never seen one off Gooseberry.

But as I say, the frost had my eye.  I especially liked how inviting it made this path.

The path that leads to Southeast Beach and the seal I didn't see - but my, isn't it inviting? (Click image for a larger view.)

And in the slideshow that follows I do recommend you click the “full” button beneath the picture for “full screen” viewing. I’m prejudice, but think the closeups are more interesting the bigger you make them.

The weekend brought a legitimate (by technical definition) blizzard to the region – more than a foot of snow, very high winds, and temperatures in the teens and twenties -  so I was eager to get out to Gooseberry to see how things fared there, but it took me a couple days. When I got there yesterday the causeway was still closed to cars and a stiff wind was causing icy waves to break all along the western side.

Looking south along the causeway towards Gooseberry. Click image for larger view.

The snow plow stopped where the causeway begins, leaving a five-foot high artificial drift blocking the way. However, it was a simple matter to get out and walk around this, though in the 25-degree temperatures, high winds, and icy footing just crossing the causeway was enough walking for me. The causeway itself only had a couple inches of snow and salt ice on it. The bay to the east was calm – the ocean to the west quite choppy, with breakers throwing icy spray over the rocks and causeway surface. And no where was there any life. All seemed barren. But in time, as I walked and looked, it came quite alive and the best part was there were several Horned Grebes on both sides. These look to me like little cousins of the Common Loons that I frequently see and while they were the first Grebes I’ve seen this year, I have seen them in previous years. What surprised me this time was how many there were. I’m used to seeing one or two, but there were at least half a dozen, alone or in pairs.

I love Pete Dunne’s descriptions of birds – they do more for me than the pictures in the field guides. Here’s just a sampling of what he says about the Horned Grebe – think of these words as you look at the pictures.

Small . . . somewhat large-headed and heavy-necked grebe . . . Horned’s head is largish, flat-topped, peaked at the rear, and down-sloping to the tip of the of the short, pencil-straight bill; at a distance , the head looks like a doorstop.

Horned Grebe - click image for larger version.

Bright white wraparound cheeks are standard features and contrast sharply with the crisply trimmed black cap.

Horned Grebe - click image for larger version.

Sits low in the water, dives for fish. . . .  Generally not social. . . . Occasionally two or more feed in close-proximity – perhaps for company, perhaps because the fishing is good . . .

Horned Grebes near Bar Rock - click image for larger view.

In Dunne’s “Essential Field Guide Companion” it says  that in winter the Horned Grebe  “strongly prefers the inlets, back bays, and other protected inshore habitats of coastal waters.” The waters around Gooseberry are hardly protected – but I suspect ice might have driven these Grebes out of more sheltered areas.  This is really the very end of their fall migration season, so I doubt they just arrived here – but I’m just speculating from a small knowledge base – one book

Some old friends were here also, but in small numbers – such as a few Buffleheads and this lone – quite handsome – male Common Eider. (A lone female was on the bay side of the causeway – maybe they had a spat.)

Male Eider - click for larger view.

Speaking of spats, I wasn’t sure if this White-winged Scoter was just coming in for a landing – and telling everyone to “gangway” – or if he was being obnoxious, or maybe on the make.

White-winged Scoter - click for larger image.

White-winged Scoter - click for larger image.

I have seen few shorebirds in the past month or so, but as I was about to leave I caught a glimpse of this whirling flight of a dozen or so Sanderlings – at least I think they’re Sanderlings.  The pictures blow up only well enough for me to be somewhat certain.

Sanderlings - click for larger image.

Finally, I couldn’t help imagining how absolutely frigid – not to mention dangerous -  it would have been around 1890 to launch a surfboat into the angry seas of a blizzard and try to rescue  folks who have run up on any of the many rocks around Gooseberry. That’s what this little building near the entrance to the causeway is all about – the one with the big wreath on it.  It has a surfboat inside and boat and building have been lovingly restored recently – I’ll need to write more on this another time – as a historical shrine and a tribute to those brave souls who did venture into the angry seas to rescue those less fortunate – not a bad Christmas metaphor when you think about it!

Historical life-saving station - click image forlarger view

Well, they’re really yesterday’s mystery ducks, but it just seems that the more time I have the less I get done  – so I’m a day or two late in posting this  – but I really did have trouble figuring out what this raft of ducks were.

Click image for larger view.

They were on the ocean side – off what I’ve dubbed West Beach -  at some distance, and in a wicked little chop, so even the telephoto pictures make precise identification difficult – at least for this amateur. So I wavered quite a while between one of the scaup clan and Common Goldeneye and came down, at last, on the side of Common Goldeneye. Zooming in on the above picture I get a little more detail.

But what really clinched it for me was this guy coming in for a landing near the flock. The white wing patches say “Goldeneye” with some sureness – but not absolute.

My prowl this day started out easier in terms of identifying ducks. We had had a significant storm and excessively high tide a couple days ago. But except for a few stones thrown up at the entrance of the causeway, there was no evidence of it.  What is more common now, duck-wise,  are little groups of Buffleheads. I love these guys – for their looks and their funny name. They make me smile. This pair were part of a larger group of half a dozen on the Bay side.

Click image for larger view.

In the choppier water on the ocean side of the causeway were this trio of White-winged Scoters – with a handsome dude in the lead.

Click picture for larger image.

Walking the central trail, Gooseberry felt more and more like a barren wilderness now that approaching winter has stripped the leaves away. Amidst the tangle of barrren brush, though, there is a familiar face – a yellow-rumped warbler, I believe. (See the little dab of yellow on his sides? Click the image for  a larger view.)

Winter is still officially a few weeks off, but we had a little snow the other day and if you looked closely you could find some evidence of it on Gooseberry.

Back near the parling lot, I’ll go out on a limb and say this is a pair of Greater Scaup on the ocean side.  The key to the ID of scaups is black at both ends for the male , and white inthemiddle – and while this isn’t that evident in the photo, in other photos of him alone it seemed more obvious.

Click picture for larger image.

Ooops – where did this come from? A lone stalk of Queen Anne’s Lace that doesn’t seem to know its December!

This is what the rest of the tribe looks like these days:

But there remain bright spots. About a week agao as the four of us were walking on nearby Horseneck we spotted a flock of Snow Buntings “working” one of the parking lots. Incredible birds. Hope to get some pictures one of these days.  And today on Gooseberry wasn’t bad.  Let’s see – I did see an Eider or two, a Common Loon, the Buffleheads, Goldeneyes, Greater Scaup, and White-winged Scoters – not a bad mix for a casual walk. I’ll close with these cuties, seen on the way out.

Click image for larger version.

I was stunned today to find a Red-throated Loon in close to shore as I walked the Northeast Beach. This is a rare bird for me, at least until this fall, and I find her(?) very elegant and graceful. So I grabbed a bunch of shots and put them here. I love the long, slender neck, the slightly upturned beak, the expressions of curiosity as she spots me, and the sleek body, rarely seen because it’s designed for underwater work. She reminds me of a young Katherine Hepburn – hmmmm, and come to think of it, the Common Loon reminds me a bit of Spencer Tracy

(Note – there’s a button for full screen mode for this slide show which you can then exit by hitting “escape” key. )

This wasn’t the only highlight of today’s walk – another one in inclement weather where there was a constant mist out of the northeast on a light wind that raised more chop on the bay than the ocean. In any event, as I came over the causeway I spotted a Brant  – a juvenile I believe.  I’m used to seeing these in flocks – and not very often. In fact, I can only remember seeing them here once before a few years ago.  So maybe this one’s lost, or maybe he’s just a rebel off doing his own thing. In any event, they remind me of a small version of the Canada Goose. When they mature there’s a white ring around their neck – this one has only the slightest hint of a ring.

Click image for larger version.

Click image for larger version.

And remember the Bufflehead dude from the other day – the lone male? Well, this time he had a female companion – and there were several others  along the way, but in small groups.

After walking the beach I turned inland towards the towers and couldn’t help noticing that while the landscape is pretty bleak – here’s a view looking out at a passing ship -

Click image for larger view.

there is an awful lot of color here if you look closely. One yellow flower seems to not know winter is coming. I see it in a small bunches throughout the island. Seems to be the only thing left in bloom right now.

The bittersweet berries remain lovely.

And here are a couple of other plants that I found appealing, but I don’t have a clue what they are.

Saw quite a bit of small bird activity – but little I could identify. Maybe a Yellow Rump or three and I’m certain of a pair of Mockingbirds.  But most were too far away and too fast for me.

On the way out I stopped on the causeway to admire some Eiders. Seems they’ve learned to avoid humans now that hunting season is here. But they’re smart. They didn’t fly – just sort of swam real fast with their wings. Could they be doing this on purpose? Perhaps they know they can only be shot when in the air? Nawwww . . .

Not me! I’m a ring-billed gull because my bill has a ring around it – obviously!

Click image for larger view.

Oh, you mean me? Yeah,. I’m a Bufflehead. What’s it to you?

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Yes, it was a rather slow day at Gooseberry, but we did see our first Bufflehead of the season, a lone male  easy of the causeway – kind of handsome dude, I think, but where did he get that name! My research – I looked in the dictionary – shows that “bufflehead” in the sense of “simpleton” stems from the 17th century and refers to a square head. Hmmm. . . kind of interesting, the different inflections put on a square. I mean, in the ’60s a square was someone who socially didn’t get it, but could easily be a very bright person, especially in technical areas.  Words! Constantly evolving. And let’s see, Wikipedia epxlains it this way:

The name Bufflehead is a combination of buffalo and head, referring to the oddly bulbous head shape of the species. ^]This is most noticeable when the male puffs out the feathers on the head, thus greatly increasing the apparent size of the head.

OK – in any event, I guess it’s better than what another site says he is also known as – butterball!

Saw a couple of loons today as well – one in the ocean near the parking lot and the other along the causeway nearer to Bar Rock. Wasn’t until I got home and looked at the pictures that I noticed the difference, though. Have to get more sensitive to this. Take a look. Here they are, loon one and two:

Click image for larger view.

Click image for larger view.

Notice loon one has more white around the eye? And holds it’s neck higher and looks a tad more gracefull? If you did, you should associate those traits with the Red-throated Loon – adult, non-breeding. The other, stockier fellow is a Common Loon – also in adult, non-breeding plumage.

Yipes – the radar shows thunderstorms just to the west and when I took the pups out this morning it started to pour. But I hadn’t been to Gooseberry lately and I thought I’d at least take a drive down there and see what I could see from inside the car. Wow! Great decision and lucky timing! I bagged a hunter I have been hoping to get all fall, confronted another hunter (different species from first)  and my own prejudices, and discovered a bird that I bet I’ve seen dozens of times in my life and never knew it – a bird that wasn’t even in  my vocabulary, but should have been!

First, although it’s just a couple miles south of here, it wasn’t raining at Gooseberry – the sun was even slicing through the clouds making  for some dazzling, rapidly changing seascapes. In fact, the shot below is one bookend for this post, as you’ll see.

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First up, though, were these two hunters. Yes, that’s my Marsh Hawk which I caught a fleeting picture of several weeks ago from a much greater distance. This time she was not only close, but when my camera suddenly didn’t work she waited for me to kick the tire and get it working! And yes, that’s a young duck hunter who has stopped cleaning his 12-gauge shotgun long enough to check out the marsh hawk. And yes, she is big – just shy of the redtail hawk in length and wing span and she doesn’t need a license to hunt, nor does she have a bag limit.

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The Marsh Hawk has always been one of my favorites and I have seen them frequently flying low over Gooseberry, hunting small game.  But since I started Gooseberry Journal this fall I haven’t gotten anything like this kind of good look.

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You know the Marsh Hawk by the way it flies low, following the contour of the land as it hunts – and you know it, in flight, by its distinctive white rump.

Click image for larger version.

And the other species of hunter? Well, I’m trying to understand this species – and myself, since I’m part of the same tribe – and try to be less judgmental and get rid of my anger by simply being more self aware. So I was real happy that I could approach this young man, have a conversation about his hunting, and find him likable. And when I looked at myself, I could find no anger. I liked him. That’s a big step for me. As a teenager I was a hunter. But it didn’t take me long to switch sides and eventually hold hunters in disdain. I really hate the idea of anyone making a  sport of killing.  But as I started my walk along the island’s central trail I thought about my own eating of burned animal parts and of how those animals I eat are raised and slaughtered in huge, commercial, money-grubbing farming operations and with such thoughts it’s pretty hard to dredge up self-righteous indignation about hunters. If I were a vegetarian  . .. but I’m not. And moving right along, here’s my next surprise.

What the heck is that undulating line of large, flying, mostly white birds way out at sea to the west? Too small to be swans. Too large and white and… well, look at this picture, taken with a telephoto, of course.

Clcik on image to get alarger view.

I was flumoxed. Even without the telephoto they looked like something different. But I was ready when I got home to  learn they were just gulls. Then I looked at the pictures more closely and I saw the distinctive black wing tips – and a lot of different degrees of white. What the heck are they? Take a closer look.

Click image to enlarge.

Have you got them figured out? I do. But only after a bout with the “Sibley Guide to Birds” and the “Field Guide to Birds” by Donald and Lillian Stokes and yes, “Birds of New England” a Smithsonian Handbook, as well. And once I was absolutely positive I was looking at a line of  Northern Gannets, I switched  to Pete Dunne’s “Essential” – yes, it really is essential and delightful, too – “Field Guide Companion.” Boy does he ever capture what I saw and it is all the little behavior clues that make the big difference. Yes, field marks are nice, but you’re dealing with living, moving, animals and they’re all individuals.  But here are some quotes from Dunne  I found particularly useful, and another picture.

In flight the Northern Gannet is larger, stiffer, more angular, and more four-points-pointy (bill, tail, and the two wing tips) than the largest gull. . .

Adults (at least four years old) are all white with all black wingtips. The yellow wash on the head disappears at a distance . . .Older subadults are variously piebald . ..

Flies with a coursing, undulating rise and fall . . . Often flies low over the water in a line with other gannets that recalls the rise and fall of roller-coaster cars on some invisible track.

Yep – exactly what they looked like!

Click image for larger view.

So what does my species hunt? Ducks, of course – sea ducks – mostly the Eiders that I love.  So hear this girls – stop waving to everyone who passes you on the causeway. Scoot out of this shooting galler for a few months. Find, some lonely, deserted coast where you can live out your life in comfort, kept warm by that beautiful down vest!

Click for larger image.

Oh – and the thunderstorms? They hit after I got home – no thunder here, but a lot of rain. But I escaped them on Gooseberry. As a matter of fact, as I was finishing my walk, heading north towards the parking lot, I had this beautiful view of the sun shining through the clouds and appearing to  throw a moving spotlight on buildings at Horseneck Beach more than a mile away.

What a theater we inhabit!

Click image for larger view.

The remnants of Hurricane Ida are headed our way  – and they kicked up a ferocious northeast wind well in advance. As we walked Gooseberry yesterday in this near gale and I saw the waves breaking over distant rocks – it was near low tide – I thought of how mariners of a century or two ago must have given this little island a wide berth. More on that – with pictures – in a moment.  On a cheerier note,  Bren and “the kids” found it tough to even stand on the southeast beach – well, Bren and Higgins anyways. Eliza seems to be saying: “Bring it on!”

The bay they saw from this vantage point was as angry as I’ve ever seen it. Here’s the view looking north towards East Point. There are usually some gentle, low roller sint his area, but not the angry white caps and breakers you see here. On the west side of the island this would be fairly common – on the east side, quite unusual. And just a few days before I walked the whole perimeter in 60-degree weather that felt more like July than November!

Click image for larger view.

Not much in the way of bird life. Most everything was hunkered down, I guess – though Bren spotted a Surf Scoter real close to the  causeway as we headed out to the parking area. I stopped and got out of the car and was just in time to get a shot of him/her flying away. What is obvious  – and helps with the identity even in flight – is the the very black body and wings and the very orange bill.

There wasn’t much wave action in close on the ocean side – it was all on the other side of the causeway.  Still, once we got to the top of the first hill it was obvious the wind was kicking up the surf in the ocean as well amnd in a very interesting pattern towards the southwest end of the island.  I could see waves breaking at different points well off shore and I took some pictures so I could check them against charts when I got home.  First up, though, is a picture from the south using the telephoto and showing the waves breaking over Hen and Chickens  rocks which are well off shore, due south of the island.

The white line you see out beyond the rocks is the waves breaking at Hen and Chickens – made famous in 1908 when the U.S.S. Yankee went aground on Hen and Chickens and stayed trapped there for 10 weeks  – eventually sinking.

Click image for larger version.

The Yankee was originally a passenger liner, launched in 1892, It was brought into the Navy during the Spanish American War and used as an auxiliary cruiser armed with 5-inch guns. In 1908 it was a Navy training ship. It grounded on Hen and Chickens in dense fog, was held fastfrom September to December, then was finally pried loose, but sank a short distance away in Buzzard’s Bay. Here’s the picture of the Yankee aground on Hen and Chickens. You can read it’s story on our Gooseberry history page.

Click the image for a larger view and you should be able to see the Yankee south of the island - and it was an island then - no causeway.

An old friend and Westport native once told me that the lumps of coal I see from time to time on the eastern beaches of Gooseberry came from some ship sinking there a long time ago. I’ve often wondered if they came from the Yankee. But I can well imagine many ships found the waters around Gooseberry treacherous. Just look at this picture taken from the small hill just south of the parking lot. The view is to the southwest and if you click the image to get a larger view, you’ll clearly see several sets of waves.   The nearest ones are just the normal breakers, in this case moving towards the east and hitting the rocky beach. But look beyond them in the center and you see breakers indicating the positions of rocks well off the island known as S W Rock, Little S W Rock and Hicks Rock.

Clcik image for larger view.

When I switched to a normal lens, looking in the same direction, I got this panorama which includes breakers over another complex of rock and ledges over to  the right (west) identified on my chart as Browing Ledge.

Click image to get large version.

The island has become deserted lately – not simply because of the storm, but because of approaching winter. I haven’t seen any warblers for weeks and just a few wintering shorebirds – fall mirgration appears to be over. The last of the Monarchs have all headed for Mexico.  Still, there is a wild loveliness in the landscape. I found this tangled patch of Bittersweet berries particularly attractive with the breaking sea in the background.

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Bitter sweet indeed! A good summary of the state of the island on this day.

(Oh – the hurricane. It was nothing, Just some rain and a bit more wind today than usual. It was all fragmented and spent by the time it got this far north. This is awfully late in the season even for the remnants of a hurricane.)

It’s fun contemplating that some of “our” Monarchs who passed through Gooseberry and similar locations in the past few weeks are now in Mexico at their winter retreat. Take a look at this picture – and when you do  keep in mind each butterfly you see is just a few inches across – that means they have to be darned close to you to show up in the picture at all – so I have afeeling there are thousand more just outside of camera range and the idea that “millions” are arriving in Mexico now is no exaggeration.

The picture is here.

They come from all over the country, of course, but I like to try to imagine these beautiful and delicate creatures making the flight from where I see them on Gooseberry Island to the butterfly sanctuary in Mexico where they spend the winter. (Click image for larger version. Modified Google map.)

More details on the migration can be found here.

For Monarchs on Gooseberry see this entry.

Monarchs, that is  – five of them  on a day I didn’t expect any.  In fact, I walked for over half an hour and passed through prime Monarch territory at the south end  and didn’t see a single Monarch. But between the towers and the parking lot I was surprised by seeing five. also saw several  Cloudless Sulphurs, Cabbage Whites ,and I believe an American Painted Lady.

Yes, it was about 52 degrees and calm and near noon, so it was a good time for butterfly activity. No sign of the other migrants – the warblers though. Not a single Yellow Rump -  in fact, I don’t think I saw a single songbird, nor did I see any shore birds and I walked the entire east and south coasts before heading down the central road. I did get a glimpse  – in fact two glimpses – of something sleek and grey and flying very fast. My best guess – a Merlin, but there’s no way I can be sure.

Here’s a sampling of what I did see, starting with a barge towed by a tug so far off that it’s out of the picture. These are common – just as coasting schooners were common a century ago. I think I would prefer seeing a coasting schooner – we do pay a price for modern efficiency.

Click for larger image.

I think I read somewhere it takes the kids three years to develop the full, male suit of feathers. (I think that’s the same as the Herring Gull.) In any event, the different arrangements continue to catch my eye – here’s a mature male, an immature, and a female.

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Cloudless Sulphur – they are beautiful. They stay the winter, I understand. My biologist friend thinks they just sort of shut down – go into a form of hibernation. Wonder when they’ll stop being active?

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OK – here  he is – one of the five Monarchs.  Hope he still plans to head south!

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What can I say? We went, we saw little, we came home. Higgins loved it. Eliza is always eager. On the last two trips Higgins has been in uncharacteristic high gear, tugging constantly at his leash, always wanting to take the point.  I think he still  remembers that Woolly Bear from a couple of trips ago and is determined to go find it again, mighty hunter that he is

With a northeast wind threatening rain – there were a few drops as we were leaving – the only songbirds we saw were a couple of sparrows in the parking lot. We walked out the central road past the towers to the southeast beach. There was a tiny raft of seven female Common Eiders there bobbing in and out of sight in the small chop. There were also some near Bar Rock and along the west side of the causeway. That was it.

Click image for larger version.