Cape Cod...Again....

Sunday, November 28, 2010

 

 

First Encounter Beach. The winds have continued to be wrong (west component) so the logic was to bird the inside of the Cape hoping to get birds that were trapped in the bay.

From the warmth and comfort of the car, more of the same.  Razorbills by the dozen, but no little black-and-white twerps.  The flock of Dunlin was easily the largest I have ever seen in my life – 250 easily. 

After perhaps an hour, Race Point was next on the agenda.  Again.  More of the same.  Again.  Oh, wait a minute!  Yup, Greater Shearwater!  Sweet!  Beyond that, yup, more of the same.

By this time, bellies (I’m a ruminant) were growling. I shot off to Provincetown for lunch and warm drinks.  The dog outside one shop was clearly a brutal killer.  Chunks of human flesh and clothing littered the street around him.  Actually, upon approach, he just rolled over on his belly looking for attention.  What a complete dufous.

A quick run through the harbor turned up Common Goldeneye and Long-tailed Ducks, among the usual. The Razorbills at your feet can't be passed up, either. The Seal  (presumably a Harbor) peering up through the water looked so damned intelligent.   At any minute, it appeared as if it would climb up on the dock, and start a conversation about coffee prices in Vietnam or something.  What a cool animal. 

Realizing that winds are no good for much of anything, the Head of the Meadow Beach was next on the agenda.  

You can't wrong with any location at this point, right? 

This site is quite a bit different than the others.  You can be in your car and above the surf.  Easily a few hundred feet off the crashing waves and 50 feet up off ocean's level, birding here is convenient.  Razorbills,blah, blah, blah...you know the birds at this point. 

Woah!  Those appear pretty damned small!  Yeah, black and white.  Distance from me?  1.9 lightyears. Yeah, they were probably my life bird Dovekies, but too far to call. That distance distortion issue is the plague – again. Is it big and far away or is it small and up close?  Dammit!

Hey, this gull is not like the rest.  Even at great distances, the pale primaries with black tips, whitish underwings and smudge on the back of the nape were a perfect match for an adult Black-legged Kittiwake.  A trip bird.  Awesome! 

Of course, seeing the whale makes up quite a bit more missed birds. As I was scanning the waters for twerps..uh, I mean Dovekie, the unmistakable vision of a whale rolling back in the water was right there.  With the ocean shelf a few hundred yards offshore, the fellow was easily as close as the water allowed. Any closer and he would have been beached.  No tail fluke. No blow.  But the color, shape, and dorsal fin were a perfect match for Minke Whale (Min-kay).  Very damned cool.  In just that split second viewing my heart raced.  I can only imagine how the whalers would have felt in 1851.  Their hearts must have jumped quite a bit, too.  I saw the same creature, but my excitement was clearly for another reason…

Sadly, too late in the date to manage anything, word came of a Northern Lapwing in Connecticut.  Three hours (by GPS) could not overcome the cycle of the sun.  Nothing could  change that! It was not possible to be on-site before sunset.  It just couldn't happen.  Plus, driving three hours in the dark hoping it would be there at dawn made no sense whatsoever. Noting the mega-rarity status of this bird, if it was there at dawn, the word would get out.  The plan for tomorrow? Stay the course on the Cape and check the internet every 15 minutes.  If it shows, drive like hell.

With the plan to head off to First Encounter Beach...again...for a dawn flight, lodging was in Orleans (right the road from the Beach).  Dinner was at Land Ho. Two new beers were sampled along with my salmon.  The Cape Cod Ale (#871) from the Cape Cod Brewing Company was a solid beer from start to finish.  The Lost Sailor IPA (#872) from the Berkshire Brewing Company was every bit as delightful.  Both were damn good and I look forward to having more!

The Tropics In Connecticut

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Loading the car in the morning provided my first official Connecticut bird – an American Goldfinch, believe it or not.  Despite some GPS trouble, I made my way to Cove Island Park which is right on the waters of Long Island Sound.  Why there? 

Fork-tailed Flycatcher!  This cousin of the Scissor-tailed Flycatcher has no business being anywhere north of Texas. But here it was in chilly New England. Was it a life bird?  No. I saw one in Ontario some years back (September 5, 1996, to be exact. Life Bird #375).  But, I basically figured “Look – if I am going to visit and bird Rhode Island and Connecticut, I should see the good stuff that is there.”  Originally, that was NOT the plan, but I changed it. 

In addition to stunning looks at a very cooperative flycatcher, the Monk Parakeets provided an interesting accent to an interesting morning.  The parakeets, with their crisp, glowing green feathers, are native to South America, but they are found breeding (and are therefore countable) in some major northern cities.    Two South American tropical birds on a chilly morning…in Connecticut.  Go figure.

Stops at Lighthouse Point Park and Hammonasset State Park were shockingly unproductive.  Knowing I needed to get back to the Cape for another go at Dovekie and the Black-headed Gull, I set off for Massachusetts again, via Sachuest National Wildlife Refuge in Rhode Island. Again. The place, while not at all huge, it THAT cool; it warranted a second trip. 

Dinner was at the Coddington Beer Company in Middletown, Rhode Island.  Blueberry Blonde, Golden Ale, India Pale Ale, Irish Red Ale, Irish Stout, Oktoberfest, and Pumpkin Ale (#864-870) were on tap.   They served up the Blueberry with actual blueberries in it. A nice touch. 3’s and 4’s for all!

While the lobster ravioli was awesome, it was here that I decided I should work on a side job. Lots of people do in these tough times.  I, for a substantial fee, will name your beers.  Really.  Give me some time and lots of free samples for family and friends, and I will research your location and find out what makes you unique.  I will find a name for your beer so you don’t have to use boring junk  like “India Pale Ale” or “Irish Stout.”

It was here, too, that I saw something very disturbing. Really. The opportunity to sample beers here was very awkward. The idea behind sampling is exactly that – samples. Small ones.  That way, a visitor can see what the place has to offer without calling for a cab later. A large part of beer tasting is all about being responsible and not stupid. It is about enjoying a time-honored tradition, and not shifting into a blithering idiot.   Most samples are not more than 4 ounces and a “flight of beer”, as they are sometimes called, may be 6 beers, plus or minus.  This place?  Seven beers at seven ounces each.  7x7=49 divided by 12 ounces in a regular beer = 4 beers + one ounce. 

You have to be kidding me.  After I explained to the waitress the blatant stupidity of the sampling procedure, she was more than happy to fill my glasses 1/3 of the way. 

Lodging that night was in Hyannis, Massachusetts (again) to be close to First Encounter (again) because of west winds (again) so I could try , at dawn (again) for Dovekie (again) and maybe bumble into a Black-headed Gull (should have gone to Halifax).

Big Mammals And Tiny States

Friday, November 26, 2010

After surviving the Hotel Overlook (I double-checked all my notes to make sure they did not say “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy”), I made my way to a diner for breakfast (things are open again!) and then on the New Bedford Whaling National Historic Park.

Say what you will about whaling in the 19^th century, but we would not be here today without it. Of course, because of it, a lot of whales (which are mammals, by the way) aren’t here either.  In the incredible tradition of horrible resource use, nobody gave any thought to what might happen if they killed all the whales because they simply did not think it could happen! But it is important to know that oil (rendered from the blubber) was the chief source of oil before we switched to petroleum products.  Spermaceti candles (not what you think) were the best and most efficient candles money could buy. Baleen and bone were used for other products ranging from cribbage boards to corsets.  Don’t forget scrimshaw. 

On the seas, with cruises sometime lasting four years at a time, crews would scour the globe looking for whales.  After a sighting, a crew would harpoon it, and eventually kill it.  Blubber, cut into chunks, would be boiled down to an oil and placed in barrels.  The picture, taken as I strolled the deck of a scaled version of a whaling ship, is that of the stoves.  Note the panels on the front side for fueling the fires while the two holes on the top accommodated the kettles.  When all the barrels were full, the ship would return to New Bedford where the owner of the ship made tons of money, the captain made some money and the crew made squat.  Needless to say, crew turnover was high.  

Think about this, too. Without whaling, there would be no whaling ships.  Without whaling ships, Herman Melville would not have sailed.  Without Melville, there would be no “Moby- Dick.”  Without “Moby-Dick”, we would not have all the “Moby-Dick” references in “Star Trek II: Wrath Of Khan.”  Without the book references and the similarity in plots, the movie may have been as bad as “Star Trek IV: The Final Frontier”.  That is a chilling thought indeed…

Some early 19^th century buildings were moved to a downtown block to create the park.  Old buildings or not, modern businesses use them in a way that preserves the past without forfeiting the future.  The light, misty rain, gulls chattering down at the docks, and crazy street surfaces all combined with the “old building feel” to make time travel come alive.  Very neat.

After a powerwalk through an antique mall (another coffee jar!),  and a bit more birding in Massachusetts, (including  a sizable flock of Snow Buntings at an 1840's fort south of New Bedford), I pressed on to Rhode Island, the nation's smallest state at 346 square inches.  Okay, not that small. It is 1,214 square miles, making it twice the size of Wayne County, Michigan.  I have never been there and needed to tick the state on my state list. 

Sachuest National Wildlife Refuge was pretty damned cool.  The rain had long since cleared but the clouds were just starting to break as the sun was setting giving cool colors on gray  seas.  Neat.  All the while, I was gawking at FLOCKS of Purple Sandpipers.  More seaducks, too.  A Red-tailed Hawk that was kiting in the stiff breezes not 20 yards away was certainly neat.  My camera rig was in my car. Damn.  Given a new state, all birds were “new” and for a time, perhaps even cool, even the Starling and Mute Swan.

Connecticut, while a new state was first seen in the dark.  Dinner was in Hartford at the City Steam Brewery Café.  Apparently, one of the older buildings in town (with a historic building plaque in the lobby), it was a department store in its heyday.  The American Wheat, Blonde Export Lager, Black Silk Stout, Colt 46 Light, and Naughty Nurse  (#859-863) were all on tap.  The Colt was junk (basically Bud Light). The Naughty Nurse was not naughty at all. In fact, she was quite nice.  Well balanced and smooth, it was the best beer of the night. So good, in fact, I had to get the shirt that said I had a naughty nurse.  The pasta was damn good too, but the gorgonzola cheese was getting pretty rich by the end…

Cape Cod

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Dawn was spent racing up Cape Cod. Even in poor light, that shape of the Snipe shooting across the road was unmistakable.

At Race Point, the northernmost beach on Cape Cod, winds were from the northwest at one million miles per hour.  Very cold. Gannets plunge-diving 100 yards offshore is incredible sight, but after about 45 minutes, I just did not feel I was seeing what I was hoping to, so I moved along the little town of Provincetown (I refuse, by the way, to call it “P'Town” like everybody else).  Most of the same sorts of waterfowl I had been seeing for days were there when I noticed a distant flock of something non-waterfowl.  Razorbills.  Dozens of them.   At one point, I realized a small distant flock never passed me by as I thought they should. Walking to the end of the pier, there they were in water not 50 yards out.  No doubt the best views yet!  Unfortunately, not a Dovekie to be had.

I thought it was worth it to head down to First Encounter Beach.  From the comfort of my car, I enjoyed dozens of Razorbills zipping past along with hundreds of Common Eiders (at left). Sure they were a bit far at times, but boy, are they cool.  Those single file lines just feet off the roaring waves? I could have watched them for hours.  One fellow the day before claimed over 8000 from the same location.  I don't doubt it one bit.  All the usual waterfowl where there too.  Plus Snow Buntings again.

By the time lunch came around, I was whipped.  The early starts continued to do me in even though I was going to bed at what I thought was a reasonable time.  I thought it best to move on to New Bedford, Massachusetts.  Taking the scenic route via Falmouth, I secured a long-overdue bird for the trip – Purple Sandpiper!  Common Loons were sometimes very close and cooperative, like the bird seen here.  While trying to find lodging in New Bedford I was simultaneously excited and angry to add a new bird for the trip – Mute Swan.  (After recording them, I shot them all. Not really. But, if we don’t do something soon, they are going to wreck a lot of real estate.)

Now, I know it is Thanksgiving, but does a town really have to completely close everything?  NOTHING was open. Okay, CVS.  Great, that does not help me much, now does it? Dinner?  I know what you're thinking – call a Chinese restaurant.  I did.  Fourteen of them. Really. Fourteen.   All closed. Dinner was basically cheese, crackers and beef jerky that I foraged at a gas station....right before it closed.

So, back at the hotel, I “ate” and did some journaling.  The hotel, by the way, gave me the creeps.  Huge.  I mean huge.  Almost no people.  I felt like I was the only one there and I was really getting bad vibes that I just cannot describe.  I swear, I was expecting a little kid to come down the hall on a tricycle...

Beantown

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

While I was prepared to bird the Cape, the winds were way too strong (20mph) from the wrong direction (northwest).  If the winds were from the east, I would have been on the Cape in a heartbeat hoping for more seabirds.

So, in an attempt to set the mood, I thought I would write this section in my best Boston accent:

You know,the idea that pocking a cah in Bawston is wicked bad.  I just could not bay-ah the idea of bumpa to bumpa cahs, so I left at dawwwn.  Before long, I was pocked and walkin' the Freedom Trail.  Two and half miles lawng, I did the whole thing. Twice, actually.  I pocked in the middle, went to the first stop, got to the last stop, and then got back to my cah.  My dawgs weren't bockin’.  I did good.

It was so cool to watch the city come alive.  Fruit vendahs settin' up the stuff. The news-pay-pah guys settin' up his rocks to weigh down the pay-pahs. So few people.  As the minutes ticked by, more and more people pooored out of the mass transit hubs.  The sounds.  The sights.  Really, really cool, believe it or not.

The bone-yods were incredible.  Three of them are on duh wok and they looked just like the Old Burying Ground in Salem.  Skulls with wings seemed to be popular, especially at the Copp's Hill Cemetery (way-ah, by the way, all the stones were moved in 1838 as planners  wanted paths around the grounds, but gave no thought to moving the stiffs).  The Downy Woodpeck-ah was a nice change from what was basically a bird-less environment beyond House Sparrows and Sky Rats.

Seeing the graves of some of the most famous stiffs in our history was really cool.  Paul Ruh-veer-ah’s stone was pretty boooring.  I assume Dawes (the udder guy with Ruh-veer-uh) must be buried under that crypt.  If not, he is buried in dah fetal position. Or, he had the stature of hobbit.  Such a tiny box.  John Adams is buried in Bawston. Without him, what would the Bawston Beer Company have called their bee-ah?  Right around the corner is John Hancock's grave.  Buy me a cold one and I will tell what you the grave mock-ah looks like...

Okay, enough of that.....

 A stunning piece of work can be found on Boston Common. A memorial to the men of the 54th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry stands larger than life.  The movie "Glory" with Mathew Broderick, Denzel Washington and Morgan Freeman, popularized their accomplishments.  It is a must watch for everybody. Period. 

In my ongoing attempt to fill people in on reality (they sometimes hate it when I do that), I'm afraid I have bad news about the Old North Church. 

You know the story, I'm sure.  “One if by land, two if by sea” was the code used by the residents of Boston to inform everyone of the British invasion plans.  The steeple, standing tall and proud, is not the original. Sorry, but it is a re-do. The original was redone almost two centuries ago.  The fake was then destroyed by a hurricane in the 50's.  So, the steeple you see is not the one old Paul saw that night. Sorry.  The weather vane, however, is the original from 1740. 

On the other hand, Paul's house, not far from the church, is apparently the real deal.  Built in 1680, it stands as the oldest structure in Boston. Sure, things have changed a bit.  No, the gutters are not original to the 1770's.

The site of the Boston Massacre is sandwiched in the middle of one of the weirdest intersections.  Roads criss-cross around this tiny little triangle of real estate.  I have seen larger dining room tables.  A star marks the location were 5 Bostonians were shot dead.  The morning I was there, another Bostonian almost died on the spot.  If she did not collect her wits in time, that bus would have massacred her. 

Unfortunately, some things were not as open as I had liked.  The USS Constitution was closed.  One can tour this ship and I missed my chance.  While is has been restored and modified, it is basically the original ship dating back to pre-1812.  “Old Ironsides” is still a commissioned warship.  So, when we have to invade Yemen in the years to come, she can lead the way!  Take that, terrorists!   Also, the huge monument on Bunk-ah Hill...er, I mean Bunker Hill, commemorating the Battle of Bunker Hill (which was largely fought on Breeds Hill, by the way) was closed.  The grand view of the Boston area will have to wait.

As one might expect, after touring Boston on foot (other wimps took the tour buses), I was tired and thirsty.  A GIANT glass of water was what I needed.  That, and a steak and cheese burger with three new beers from the Boston Beer Works.  If the title sounds somewhat familiar, it should.  It turns out the Salem Beers Works is owned by the same guy.  Any way you look it, the three beers; Ginger IPA (#856), Muddy River Porter (#857), and Bulfinch (#855).  The Bulfinch was the creamiest beer I have had in a long time, but the Porter was the best of the three.

Per usual, leaving town was ridiculous.  I was leaving at 3:00 and it was a slow bumper to bumper battle.  What would have taken a few minutes in most towns, took fifty years...

Lodging was in Hyannis with a nice bite at Ardeo's.  Seafood pasta can't be beat.  Despite a bum-steer from the folks at the hotel about the beer selection, I found the Harpoon IPA (#858), from the Harpoon Brewery in Boston, was new and more importantly, good. 

After-dinner journaling at another British Beer Company would have been cool, but knowing this is the biggest bar nights of the year, I opted to head back to the hotel and plan my assault on the Cape. Trying to type while listening to college hacks recount bad drinking episodes was not on my agenda…