Though this journal purports
to be about piping plovers, long time readers know it's
really all about gulls and radios. Especially gulls.
Especially today. I just noticed I've written Larus
minutus on the lid of my coffee cup. It's not every
day you see a life bird over your morning coffee. But
then again, normal people probably aren't having their
first cup of the day on the south end of the PRNWR beach
surrounded by gulls.
For the first hour or so of the
shift, it was just me and a mixed flock of gulls at the
south end of the refuge. I had plenty of time to sort
through the ringbills, Bonapartes', and seemingly
gargantuan herring gulls. I'm counting the Bonapartes'
when I spot one that's way smaller. Fortunately for me,
the flock takes a short flight over to the waterline so I
can see in flight that this miniature gull has dark
underwings. A little gull! My first ever despite many
previous attempts to will a Bonaparte's into being a
little gull. There's another small one foraging in the
wrack and it's got a pink cast to its underparts. Would
that I could make that into a Ross' gull, but it's an
immature little gull. That makes two. Cool.
A stream of some kind of sand
flies, bigger than the midges I mentioned last week
(nobody has yet emailed to tell me the etymology of
calling them mingies). It's like a continuous black
current running north just above the sand. This proves of
great interest to the gulls and starts attracting other
birds. The Bonaparte's and little gulls thrust their
heads forward with beaks open to catch the flies. The
ringbills catch them in the air like giant flycatchers.
This has always been one of my favorite things about
ringbilled gulls. Their flycatching talents seem so out
of place in the gull world. A pair of northern
rough-winged swallows shows up. They and some tree
swallows who join them swoop down on the flies from
above. Three eastern kingbirds hawk the flies in true
flycatcher style. The catbirds and grackles should take
lessons from them. The catbird has the strangest
technique of all. It perches on a piece of driftwood
above the wrack and pounces on the flies. It doesn't fly,
it jumps on them. I watch it for awhile and conclude it
can't possibly be effiicient. Cedar waxwings, song
sparrows, some goldfinches, and a lone redwinged
blackbird all get into the act. Even a herring gull
starts snagging flies in the same style as the
Bonaparte's, by thrusting its head forward with beak
open. I wonder how many flies it takes to sustain a
herring gull. Only the great black backs and the terns
seem to ignore this fly feast. Three killdeer arrange
themselves in a circle on the slope of the dune and kind
of surround the flies. They look more like some kind of
singing group on stage than shorebirds feasting. They are
making an awful lot of noise. It's all pretty amazing.
Birders stream in, not after the
flies, but after the little gulls. Apparently the word is
out. One of the birders tells me there are in fact four
little gulls, not just the two that I've seen. I pick
them out pretty quickly and thank the guy. A life bird
and there's 4 of 'em!
Unit 61 comes by to check on how
things are going. I tell him about the little gulls and
he's concerned the birders will want the boardwalk at lot
7 opened up so they can get a better view, but the rest
of the shift progresses without anybody asking for that.
The gulls are likely to move over to Stage Island pool or
to Sandy Point when this fly fiesta ends anyway.
I may or may not have seen a piping
plover just out of clear focusing range of my
binoculars.