ducks

Slice of Life

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“Who- Who- Who- Cooks- for you?” Barred owl’s echo off Silver Eel Cove is muffled with the pillow over my head. Honestly Owl, I cook for me, but not at 4am. A few toss and turns later the chorus of songbirds announces the coming of day. The sun dressed in pinks, reds, even violet peeks peacefully over South Beach and the parade grounds. There is the flip flop of webbed feet above me; the cottage roof where a herring gull stands watch. With all my naturalist endeavors, I would like to think this bird is satisfied with baby bunker fish. Perhaps it got wind of strewn popcorn the Fort Wright crows often insist upon (my bad). As the 7:45am ferry docks, a pair of mallard ducks make their routine landing and quite a splash into a terracotta bath meant for that chorus of songbirds. It looks to be a calm blue-sky day and with tides low I grab binoculars and clicker and head off on my bike to Hungry Point.

Last year the harbor seals hauled off and out by May 8th. Today by 8:00am on May 11th, pheasants are grazing beside the old movie theater. Time flies with me as I coast down the hill and pedal even faster past the duck pond. I look for the wood duck Carl Scroxton always sees and I remind myself to ask Janio if I might place a wood duck house in that habitat. Looping around the post office, I veer off to the Village Market – with a hankering for toast and fresh squeezed OJ, I am making great time. A few minutes later I find that I have detoured to check on coyote tracks at Dock Beach. Rounding the bend I spy an overturned horseshoe crab. Just as I put on the brakes, I receive a text at 8:30am: Seven baby swans are in a pond before the Big Club. The morning shifts from third to first gear; the upside down Limulus is rescued and swims into West Harbor. The sun glints and climbs beside me as I dart back to the post office remembering I need to stop by Eiriksson’s and check on the injured crow Lisa is caring for. My today is turning into a “to do.” Just then Larry Horn waves me down-all timing seems perfect. I tell him all about the incredible minke whale sighting the ferry crew shared with me; last Friday eve just off Government Bell Buoy. But it’s stinky VS. a minke as we revel in these stories. Larry pulls out his phone and shows me a picture of a dead skunk ashore on Chocomount! I joke that “smelling is believing” and speed off to photo document; smiling about our Island times with “All the News that’s Fit to Print”. I take a shortcut and whiz past the gate house waving to Johnny B.

“Don’t give me a demerit!”

Bruce Hubert’s bicycle van comes to a halt.

“Thanks for tightening these brakes, Bruce”.

“Hey Justine, did you get the 2 Owls I dropped off, somehow got trapped in a house.”

“Yes, barred owls, but the museum already has a specimen – I got them to a freezer” shouting from up the road.

I can tell the noon whistle is about to blast, remembering I didn’t get to the store, remembering to thank Pierce for sharing Island history slides yesterday. It’s a funny thing – memories on a tiny Island. Noting the osprey’s attempt to nest neatly, I swerve through a cluster of branches and dried eelgrass dropped below on the Recreational Path. A sharp turn and I’m aimed towards Chocomount Beach whose monster’s painted footprints appear different from 40 years ago-different species I suppose. Following the scent of skunk I snap a few pictures. I also follow the trail of nearby landscaping-wondering if the animal snuck into some mulch or even equipment on its maiden voyage from the mainland. The super tide over the weekend has me deduct differently. By 2:25pm, this afternoon I can see that the seals at Hungry Point are teasing me-hauled off but heads and snouts bobbing-no final departure northward yet. If I pedal fast now I can safely maneuver Island work force traffic headed home on Baby Doll, Popeye, and the 4:45 ferries. Finally arriving west myself, I run upstairs to check email: Would I please come east and document a dolphin washed ashore at the castle? I laugh, still wanting that slice of toast but blessed with this Slice of Life.

My Safe Arbor

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With supple sway and gracious bend atop crown and canopy so sure

Give radiant rest to thoughts in flight; ideas seeking roots secure

Await and see!   There shines a beam

midst budding vernal

Swift

Spiral

Swirling

Within annual rings; yet ever towards eternal

Once

Founded

Then firmly

Grounded.

 

 

Naturalist Amazed !

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I was just noting our early arrivals on Island this year.Tree Swallows already darting above the Parade Ground and Oyster Catchers claiming their rock clumps off Hungry Point.So I decided to arrive even earlier at Chocomount Beach this April morning .Scanning the horizon from atop old Picnic Rock I could bearly believe my eyes…..

My Side of the Island

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This past winter has been one of sharing my childhood memories growing up here on Fishers Island.  Lots of recollecting between Jen Burns’ 3rd and 4th graders, fellow passengers on the Ferry, fellow shoppers at The Village Market-even shared remembrances at a recently open Gatehouse. The importance of creating Local Traditional Knowledge through telling of our stories is to me the most “Natural” part of an island’s history. It’s very simple-especially the sharing part. For Instance I remember during summers when I was in 4th grade riding my bike to the Fishers Island Library. My favorite book to check out was Jean Craighead George’s My Side of the Mountain. What kid didn’t want to be Sam who befriended and trained a Peregrine Falcon named “Frightful”?

So while I am happy to  circle up round a bench on The Parade Grounds  with students and share the  scientific name Falco Peregrinus (foreigner)  for this migratory bird travelling great distances to our island; gifting  actual stories of local sightings helps to  promote and strengthen Stewardship of its actual habitat.

Island Sentinels Gardner Thors and Conner Wakeman have  each seen and documented a Peregrine Falcon both on the Recreational Path near Chocomount Beach and flying over Race Rock Lighthouse.

Not that I ever doubted their own keen observations and innate naturalist qualities- I just wanted to finally meet my own “Frightful”-share with enthusiastic students My Side of the Island.

 Then this quiet March morning,rounding the bend by Z&S and Community Center, there perched on a pole  alert and keeping watch-a  simple symbol  of this guardianship.

 

 

Ode To Bird

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His timing was perfect. Last Jaunuary 19th; I had just about given up wanting to reside on this “God forsaken rock”. Life in those moments was one swirl of blizzard with north winds whipping, pipes freezing, a wool hat that was becoming too much a part of me; in a place where “wuthering” really did exist and it wasn’t very romantic. I believe he appeared just when we needed each other. His odd sounding pheasant screetch was like a precisely set alarm clock every morning. His cocky attitude-flying up against the back door if cracked corn breakfast was late. He was, I think farm raised and put up with my humor-the routine “Come on Bird” with a pronounced southern drawl. And I in turn put up with his (believe me!) when neighbors would tease me “Your gentleman caller is peeking in your windows” or “Oh, your boyfriend’s a colorful character!”

In fact it was Bird whom I dubbed “My Ring-necked of the Woods” and got me writing…It was Bird who was patient with all the other birds-waiting his turn when a Mallard family moved in, then being generous with the quail covey… It was Bird who also came every evening, sometimes just to sit and be himself- a pheasant. Last week for some reason I attempted to extend my open hand filled with seed. There we are grounded, in the grass, eye to eye. Then there was that moment of trusting -fulfilled.

A kind neighbor informed me he found Bird had been struck by a car yesterday. Bird,who made “My Neck of The Woods” an even kinder place.

A Remarks Page

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I vividly remember the mornings after Hurricane Sandy.

I walked about a landscape and seascape whose familiarity I had held onto so tight. For the child in me who grew up here it was emotional. And now for the  adult  in me it was problematic-the 12 sites I would profess to know intimately, and the trust put in myself that I could record an Island’s environmental trends were both shook up and eroded. That’s when I looked down and noticed this feather- I was on South Beach. It was just an observation, but as light as this feather was, it stood fast. Instead of monitoring becoming a heavy burden for an individual- I thought it could very well become a blessing for an Island’s whole community. So I “let go”.

This summer I added a Remarks page to our data base, mostly because I have so many Islanders contributing observations, I can’t keep up –nor was I ever supposed to. This sharing has brought out the “unity” in our Community.

Dolphins off Race Point Lighthouse in July and the Big Club in August, fisher cat vs. mink on Wilderness Point road, swarms of baby bunker (menhaden fish) along the old stone Tennis Racquet, 30 Least Terns (threatened species) north side by the Castle, coyote tracks thru the Parade Grounds, released quail hopefully feeling at home and nesting, monarch butterflies returning, more bats and lightening bugs than in the past summers. All just this week!  Just remarkable.

 

 

One Sneaky Bird

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I think the coast is clear. That’s what the Island feels like. Like those of us who have been a bit in hiding are making an appearance. I believe The Island itself sighs with a sense of relief-just all the cars off its back.

And so the scenes shift: I stop looking inward and look outward. September shadows, sultry breezes, chorus of crickets, squalls of swallows dancing over queen anne’s lace

This Green Heron is like us islanders, very secretive. Walking across an old plank, in a brackish marsh, it was spying a frog or two for lunch. I knelt with my camera as the crowd of beachgoers in summer walked by behind us. Just us two sneaky birds….

Just Rippling It Out There

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I like to think that small island dishing and tattling has been replaced these months with fishing and paddling. It’s something to behold-literally, when I can witness the rippling out of sightings and stories that are helping residents here share and instill local traditional knowledge into our own natural history and heritage. Take for instance islander Tracy Brock’s photo of a juvenile green sea turtle. Winding up snorkeling in West Harbor on a Sunday afternoon, she happened to glimpse gliding movement through waving Eel grass. All ready to call it a day, she was amazed to be gifted with a somewhat rare moment (and happen to have the old underwater camera). I told her I was thrilled; as shared communication of healthy, thriving Eel grass meadows in both Long Island and Fishers Island Sounds is vital to our community.  Excitedly, the next evening I related to fourth grader Benjamin Edwards who was sifting through sands on Dock Beach that “out there” a young sea turtle was growing up before our very eyes and added “there could even be family”!

And scuttlebutt has it that several days later dad Jeff Edwards tracked me down at Race Rock Garden Co. to share that afterwards Benjamin actually sighted a sea turtle surface during his rowing class. Somehow enthusiasm convinced us all that perhaps it might even be the same individual turtle Tracy photographed.

And to folks who for years have worked here and help keep Fishers Island afloat; commuting on morning ferries above sea grass meadows in West Harbor-the Baby Doll, Popeye, and Red Sky; word of mouth has it that we are all of us locals, that we all have a stake in conservation here, and we can’t do it without each other. That’s the best story- so pass it on…

 

Listening To Dragonfly

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So transparent your message

On delicate wing

Gift of grace with precision

Poised in these moments you speak

In whirlwind of change,

“To balance so dearly life upon our Island”

 

 

 

 

Silver Eel Cove: A Good Read

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 The other morning I was sitting on the bow section of the Race Point ferry –a great seat for observing one of my favorite monitored sites: Silver Eel Cove where I grew up. Back then it was the old Mystic Isle ferry along with the Olinda both on which I looked forward to my big voyage to New London. A lot has changed. I don’t dive off the old Navy dock anymore, but it is still standing near the old brick pump house. King Mackerel no longer swarm within the slip during August. But red jelly fish still drift in and often stay. Kids don’t spend the day crabbing off the middle dock anymore. They sit there though and use their Smart Phones, then hop on Paddle Boards.

At the end of the school year I treated Jen Burn’s 3rd and 4th graders to a morning of monitoring on land-actually they treated me!

I likened Silver Eel Cove to a great story which they could read over and over again. How the weather will change, the seasons, the scheduled boats, tides, and let’s not forget all those interesting characters. I introduced them to local barn swallows nesting under the ferry dock and a diving cormorant near the Coast Guard Station. Then there is the gang of six local crows that meet the 4:15 boat, two egrets that regularly fly in from Race Rock in the evening time fishing for dinner. Close your eyes and you can hear Pheasants and crickets cheer on the pedestrians. New residents Mr. & Mrs. Mallard waddle up towards Fort Wright.  Lately, I’m reading how Black- crowned Night- heron stands sovereign over Silver Eel Cove. Lots of summer reading.