Herons on the Rocks

 

Great Blue Heron

Herons should be in marshy places where their enormous feet can support them like snowshoes, their long legs elevate them above water and vegetation, their patient posture and whip-like necks ready to ambush prey. A heron airborne on languid wingbeats contradicts its giraffe-like standing pose and seems to confound the solid-liquid-gas-gravity physics of matter.

Heron and cormorant

When herons occasionally come to Halibut Point's coast in search of food they have to contend with turbulent water and rocky shorelines.

Herons and gull

Some other species generally adapt to these conditions more easily than herons. But when schools of small fish are driven into the shallows by predatory species like mackerel and striped bass, they present herons with an opportunity 'like shooting fish in a barrel'.

Black-crowned Night-heron

Such circumstances recently brought this Black-crowned Night-heron to the shoreline  in broad daylight.

Heron, surrounded by gulls

The nocturnally inclined bird stayed up late into the morning to join gulls searching out little fish trapped in pools by the receding tide.

Food was so plentiful that the gulls were uncharacteristically not fighting one another for it.

Well satisfied with their trip to our granite edge of the continent the herons lifted off to return to the shelter of interior wetlands.

The Dragonfly Tree

 

A Blue Dasher pair

Everybody who sees dragonflies swirling over the meadows and moors of Halibut Point wonders if they ever come down for a rest, and where it could be.

Recently I came upon an ideal roosting spot for dragonflies between their flight sallies.

Blue Dasher male

Besides satisfying the purposes of the dragonflies it gave me a chance to enjoy their exquisite details in a stationary pose.

Blue Dasher female

For each of us, a stable perch and clear open sightlines were helpful parts of the arrangement.

Black Saddlebags

Some dragonflies consistently chose the apex of the tree for their perch.

Spot-winged Glider pair

Others preferred a less conspicuous roost in the mid-canopy.

Painted Skimmer

The leafless tree had made a valiant go of pioneering life over the thin-soiled ledges. Last year's drought overwhelmed it. Now it stands like a mast and rigging without sails hosting dragonflies at home from their excursions.

Tracking down a Novelty

Early on the Fourth of July I was enjoying a quiet quarry-side morning at Halibut Point before the holiday crowds arrived. Across the pond what at first seemed an undistinguished group of Mallards paddled out of the overhanging shrubbery.

One of the ducks was noticeably smaller than the others and had a long thin beak. My facetious motto (to myself) is always, "Shoot first, ask questions later." I did. They were swimming clockwise along the rim. I took off counter-clockwise hoping to meet them at an open vantage point by the Cattail Corner.

The Bird of Interest looked like a miniature cormorant. What to think of that?  At first sight it had few distinguishing features. What would an orphan be doing up here, and how could it get here? It seemed to have attached itself to the resident Mallards, like other solitary juveniles have done. [See Mallard Chaperones from February 15 of this year.] That wouldn't be very cormorant-like.

Besides, there was a dash of white along the wing, the hint of a crest on the back of its head, and very large eyes. It seemed to be drawing characteristics from different species, with a lot of merganser in the mix.

Hooded Merganser pair on the quarry

February 24, 2017

It didn't look much like the only small ducks with a long thin bill that I'd once seen here early in the spring migration season as the ice was thawing. That boldly patterned pair of Hooded Mergansers was hustling north to traditional breeding grounds.

I sent pictures to a local expert who pronounced it precisely of that species, a juvenile Hooded Merganser "fresh from the nest, I'm guessing."

Female Hooded Merganser
December 20, 2020

Its dash of white along the wing was very much like that on a female that had passed through here on its migration south a few years ago. Whatever gender this youngster was, it left me wondering how it was able to reach Halibut Point at such a tender age. I asked my generous friend for more about its life history. He wrote, "Once an uncommon migrant and very local resident, Hooded Merganser has become increasingly common in recent years. It now nests in Essex County and probably on Cape Ann (as suggested by your juvenile bird)." Aha.

 An online source noted that breeding begins in late February, which matched the pass-through date of that pair I'd once seen here. Their preferred habitat is wooded lakes, ponds, rivers where they can nest in surrounding tree cavities. That rules out Halibut Point.

 Like most waterfowl, Hooded Merganser hatchlings are precocial. They leave the nest within 24 hours after hatching. Their mother calls to them from ground level. The newborns scramble up to the entrance hole and then flutter to the ground, which may be 50 feet or more below them. They walk with their mother to the nearest body of water. The young are immediately capable of diving and foraging but remain with the female for warmth and protection. They start flying at around 70 days of age.

Juvenile Hooded Merganser

Incubation time for the eggs is about 30 days. Added to the 70 days needed for maturing to flight it took at least 100 days since conception to reach Halibut Point. Assuming its conception began about March 1, this bird was 3-4 weeks old when it flew here on the Fourth of July.

Unlike its Mallard companions, the young bird snorkeled frequently in search of fish to chase underwater. Hooded Mergansers can actually change the refractive properties of their eyes to improve their underwater vision. They have a transparent extra eyelid called a nictitating membrane that helps protect the eye during swimming, like a pair of goggles.

I look forward to its return colorfully fledged  in breeding plumage, when the pond ice, believe it or not, melts from the quarry.

Shoreline Treasures

 

Great Mullein, Verbascum thapsus, surrounded by
white Yarrow, Achillea millefolium

 

After enjoying flowering plants in the meadows and woodlands of Halibut Point visitors can find further blooms along the ocean's edge. The examples pictured above have self-sown in the gravelly terrain of the old quarry grout pile, now known as the Overlook.

Scarlet Pimpernel, Lysimachia arvensis

Contrasting with them in size and scenic circumstance these tiny flowers bloom down below along the shoreline.

Virginian Rose, Rosa virginiana

Unlike pampered horticultural hybrids some native roses thriving in the scree produce wonderfully simple fragrant flowers.

Larger Blue Flag, Iris versicolor

Wild irises find niches in swales where drainage patterns keep the soil moist.

Hedge Bindweed, Calystegia sepium

A morning glory relative weaving through the very harshest areas of the moors puts up delicate blossoms against the grout pile from the industrial mining era.

Purple Loosestrife, Lythrum salicaria

Purple Loosestrife, the ubiquitous migrant from Europe, brightens moist crevices among the rocks after hop scotching here through the New England countryside.

Beach Pea, Lathyrus japonicus

Another exotic from Asia that prospers within the reach of high tides disperses its seeds by ocean currents.

Seaside Goldenrod, Solidago sempervirens

Specialized coastal survivors have earned their open habitat by developing unusual resistance to salt, wind, and drought.

For us the surrounding views are spectacular, but these pioneers grace an otherwise barren margin of the continent.