My 40-hour work week was distributed over four days, so I used my days off to explore Cape Cod.
Though I had read of migration routes traveled by dolphins, birds, and whales on their yearly journeys, I had not witnessed those migrations firsthand. I saw few birds in the early fall, but a trip to Race Point on October 18 revealed herring gulls, greater black-backed gulls, double-crested cormorants, and red-breasted mergansers. A troop of semi-palmated sandpipers made sorties on the beach, stopping to peck at sand grains, looking for the sustaining nourishment of beach hoppers and sand fleas.
I stopped to walk the path in Small’s Swamp and searched for the Pilgrim Spring, where Myles Standish first found water for his colony. I had an excellent view of a female harrier (marsh hawk) circling the marsh, searching for small rodents for her dinner.
I would see harriers throughout my time on the cape and learn more about these unique birds as I read Harrier, Hawk of the Marshes. This fine book was part of The Smithsonian Nature Series. Written by Francis Hamerstrom, it is out of print but readily available from used book dealers.
It was a full day, but I did not find the red-throated loons I had hoped to see. Their cousins, the common loons, had crossed my path in other locations but never the red-throated loons.
I was not what bird watchers call a “lister,” one who keeps lists of birds seen each day, trip lists for memorable forays, and the all-important “life list” of every bird seen in the birdwatcher’s lifetime. Nevertheless, reports of red-throated loons sent me scurrying around the upper cape in search of them.
With limited time for my stay there, I intensified my search and focused on seeing any birds specific to that location. I fulfilled my desire to see a red-throated loon on October 20. The sun was already in the west when I parked my car, departed on foot from a largely empty parking lot in Provincetown, and began the long walk toward Race Point Beach.
Hundreds of common ducks and geese filled the nearer reaches of the ocean while black-backed gulls crowded the beach. Salt spray filled my nostrils, and the air was filled with flocks of mergansers flying in straight-line formations.
Suddenly, two loons crossed my field of vision and continued swimming parallel to the shore. The red throat patch on each bird was so obscured that I first thought they were grebes, but I recognized the thicker, spear-like beak. The long walk left me tired but excited.
Somewhere, expert birders may read this and laugh as they search for a flame-colored tanager or a Bahamas mockingbird, but that is the beauty of birdwatching. Birders at every level find their skills challenged, whether feeder watching at home or flying to a remote island to add new birds to their life list. The book and the movie, The Big Year, each give a comic view of competitive birders’ escapades in search of new species.