Winter birding can be either spectacularly rewarding or incredibly frustrating. I can think of a few times I’ve gone out — particularly for a Christmas Bird Count — and seen nothing but European house sparrows, starlings and rock doves all day. Factor in extremely cold or inclement weather and I start wondering just why I ever picked up bird-watching as a hobby in the first place.
This was most certainly not the case this past weekend, when a friend and I went to Scarborough Marsh. This was my first winter visit to the marsh, and I was anticipating seeing a few winter ducks, at least. Both of us carefully studied the weather forecast the night before: The day would start out very cold — in the low teens and 20s — and sunny. Afternoon would see temperatures rising into the 30s and increasing clouds. In the end we decided to get there around 10 a.m., and this proved to be an excellent decision.
Soon after parking at the small Audubon nature center, we observed a small group of common goldeneye ducks. Just beyond them, a large flock of Canada geese foraged along a bank of dry grasses. Suddenly, the geese became alert. Every one of them stretched their long necks as high as they could go and stared intently across the marsh. Following their gazes, we noticed a few crows take flight from the ground, as well as a strange white object that appeared to be sitting atop the dried golden grasses.
We soon realized this white object was the head of a mature bald eagle. A second eagle hopped up into the air nearby, causing the crows to become agitated again. The birds must have found a food supply, or perhaps the eagles had caught a few fish; the dried marsh vegetation obscured the view. Still, it was quite impressive to see a bald eagle suddenly launch itself up from the ground into view.
As things went, I would have been satisfied with the day if all we had seen were the eagles and ducks. But an even bigger surprise was in store for us.
After the eagles had flown away, we drove down the road, parked and started across the bridge that spanned the marsh. As we stopped momentarily to scan the trees along the edge, we saw a good-sized raptor perched at the very top of a white pine.
We watched as the bird flew to a better perch. Its plumage appeared mottled and splotchy; this immediately brought to mind an immature bald eagle, whose dark feathers look as if someone has splashed white paint on them. But as I studied the bird through my binoculars, I noticed there was a definite pattern to the bird’s plumage: there was a large, very dark band across its belly, and large dark patches on the “wrist” area of its underwings. The base of its tail was white and tipped with a dark band, and its chest was a beautiful tawny color with fine, dark streaking.
This was a rough-legged hawk we were looking at, so named for the heavy feathering on its legs — an adaptation for survival in the high arctic, where it breeds. The plumage pattern indicated it was an immature, “light phase,” bird; an alternate plumage pattern, known as “dark phase,” can occur, which can make a bird appear almost all black in color. Birds with a dark phase pattern are actually more likely to be seen here in the East, so seeing this “light phase” bird was even more of a treat. I was thrilled to see this raptor, period, as it is only a winter visitor here.
The Scarborough Marsh habitat is an ideal hunting ground for this bird, which hunts small mammals almost exclusively. It will hover in flight while scanning the ground for prey, hunt from a strategic perch or cruise low over the marsh, hoping to surprise its prey among the brittle vegetation of the many “islands” in the marsh channels. It may also fish like an osprey, as I had the chance to witness that day. The hawk made one dive toward open water and struck the surface with its feet, but I was unable to see if it had actually caught something.
Rough-legged hawks have been spotted throughout Maine over the years, from Aroostook County, to Acadia National Park, to southern Maine and many points in between. Open fields, as well as marshy areas, are the bird’s winter habitats of choice.
We watched as the hawk made a few cruising flights over the marsh. At one point, it returned to perch in a white pine tree that slanted over the dark, open water of the marsh. Although the sun was out and relatively warm in the absence of a wind, reminders of winter were blatant: Ice still coated many of the trees as a result of the ice storm a few days before.
I kept my binoculars trained on the raptor. Behind it, the trees, with their coating of ice, sparkled in the sun, creating a starkly beautiful tableau.
Beyond a doubt, this was a spectacular day of birding.