I’ve come to enjoy the excitement of feeling stupid. Stupidity opens up a world of pleasant surprises. For instance, I just returned from vacationing in Hilton Head, South Carolina.
Although there was little likelihood of finding a bird that was new to me, I had a wonderful week encountering old friends in new ways.
Nothing surprised me more than the red-throated loons. Loyal readers know I enjoy the challenge of finding these unusual loons in Maine. They are smaller and skinnier than our common loons, with a snakier appearance. A fair number winter along our coastline, but they are tricky to spot.
It was a short walk to the beach on my first day down south. I had barely curled my toes in the sand when I spotted a loon — a red-throated loon. Excitedly, I directed the attention of my friends to this uncommon bird. While guiding their gaze to the correct spot, I noticed another nearby. And another. And another. OMG, the ocean is full of red-throated loons!
I felt stupid, a victim of my own assumptions. I knew red-throated loons were subarctic breeders on Canadian freshwater ponds. I knew they were forced south in the cold months, and I just assumed they stopped when they got to Maine. Wrong. I saw horned grebes swimming with anhingas. I saw buffleheads swimming with alligators. Mind blown. I had to re-think my assumptions about the wide range of seabirds that winter in Maine.
Re-thinking is harder than thinking. I try to avoid both. So you can imagine what went through my mind when I spied a small duck winging its way over the surf, landing among four pelicans about 500 feet offshore. A blue-winged teal? Really? It’s a freshwater dabbler in Maine. A pair usually nests in Essex Marsh in Bangor each summer. What on earth is a shallow-water dabbling duck doing out there in the ocean with pelicans?
Another thousand yards beyond this mystery, the horizon was crowded with northern gannets. Their nesting colonies are in Canada, but the entire eastern coastline of North America is their home. We see them often in the Gulf of Maine, going to and fro from their summer and winter stomping grounds. I wasn’t surprised to find them in South Carolina, but I was staggered at their abundance. Watching gannets and pelicans plunge-diving together was not something that my brain could easily accept. Maine doesn’t have pelicans.
Maine does have willets. This large shorebird is fairly easy to find in Scarborough Marsh during summer. They stand a foot tall and are uniformly gray, with few distinguishing characteristics until they fly, whereupon the bold black-and-white wing pattern is a dead giveaway. Willets are named for the “willet-willet” cry they make as they fly away from you, startled.
Except in the south, willets don’t startle. Shorebirds there are so accustomed to bikers, hikers, joggers and geriatric dog-walkers that they pay virtually no notice. You can walk right up to them, and they regard you with the same concern they show a beached jellyfish. Hey, in Maine we have to work for our birds!
Of course, working for birds is what makes Maine fun. As late winter days lengthen and warm, our own coastline gets more exciting. You can huddle behind the lighthouse at West Quoddy Head in Lubec and scan a vast expanse of ocean without fog. You can stand at Thunder Hole in Bar Harbor, searching for seabirds without the January frostbite. You can walk the breakwater in Rockland Harbor without risking death from exposure. You can walk southern Maine beaches without seeing tourists.
Or you might be a tourist yourself. Many Mainers head south this time of year, and binoculars fit neatly into carry-on luggage. Find old friends in new places. The same pine warblers that sing above my house in May are trilling incessantly in South Carolina in March. It seems that Maine’s entire breeding population of yellow-rumped warblers is biding its time in Hilton Head. Hordes of cedar waxwings are fattening up for their migration north.
Also, you need not travel far to learn more about familiar birds. It starts upon exiting the driveway. Lots of folks have been amazed to see how many American robins stayed in Maine this winter. Actually, we’ve always had some. They can subsist on berries and crabapples for months. Waxwings and pine grosbeaks can, too. Watch for bird activity in fruit trees this winter, and be prepared for a surprise.
Bob Duchesne serves as vice president of Maine Audubon’s Penobscot Valley Chapter. He developed the Maine Birding Trail, with information at mainebirdingtrail.com. He can be reached at duchesne@midmaine.com.