Saltmarsh Stomp

One of the very first trips I made at the beginning of this Big Year was to Fort Fisher, a Civil War area fort south of Wilmington. I’ve been there several other times this year, it’s one of my favorite places to bird and is pretty easily accessible, which is nice. So it’s probably appropriate that one of my last day trips this year is to return, looking for those few birds that I’d missed the first time and, as of yet, hadn’t figured out that best way to find. The problems were mostly tide related, as a native midwesterner I have a hard time making sense of what the charts and cycles mean. All I know is that when the tide comes in, the saltmarshes that I like kicking around in are impossible to wade through, and potential for rails and sparrows is lost. Perhaps I should just invest in some knee high boots or something.

I thought I was going to run into the same problem Tuesday morning, after nearly giving myself a headache the night before looking at tide charts, (note to self, sailor is not a viable career option) but when I arrived the water was low and there was scarcely any wind at all. I’ve said before all you need for rails and Ammodramus sparrows is a low tide and a low tolerance for muddy pants. One down, one to go. I headed full bore towards the thickest reeds with a mind for some sharp-tails.

Last time I’d done this all I could find were Nelson’s. I really wanted Saltmarsh, which in addition to being a must-have for a Carolina Big Year, would be a lifer besides. It wasn’t long then before my stomping about paid off, sparrows started flushing out in front of me. Mostly Seasides here and there but then a paler Sharp-tail, which flew up to a reed to have a look giving me a full on view of the streaky front while sitting in that way that Sharp-tails do where they’re legs are fully perpendicular to the body grasping two parallel grasses. A Saltmarsh Sharp-tailed Sparrow, easy as pie. A few more tracks around the circuit, cause I’m a glutton for punishment, yielded another Saltie and a couple unidentified birds that could have been Nelson’s, but given my track record I wouldn’t be surprised if the sparrows had made some sort of decision to remain monospecific when I come around.

Target acquired, I walked out on the groin to have a look through the shorebirds that frequent on it. Nothing unusual there, just the regular Dunlins, Short Dowitchers, Turnstones, Willets and Marbled Godwits, but the birds seemed unusually willing to let me get close. Perhaps in my year devoted to them we’ve come to some sort of understanding. I only wish the rare ones were so accommodating…

I was able to walk farther out on the groin than I ever had before, due to the absence of wind and flying spray that usually make the rocks too slippery to chance. It allowed me to check out some of the ducks on the water, mostly Buffleheads and Hoodies. I watched this little boat criss-cross the sound picking up crab pots. Behind it was a neat line of Pelicans following its every turn, as if they were a string of bathtub ducks attached to the stern.

The next great hope was for seaducks. And when I spotted a flock of Bufflehead in the surf in the very exact same spot as I found all three species of scoter two years ago, I was feeling pretty good. My expectations were met, kind of. White-winged Scoter is the one outstanding scoter on my list, the flock in question held both Surf and Black, but not the bird I was truly in the mood for.

It was fun to watch the Scoters that were there though. They forage with, but apart from, the Buffies. When a big wave would come they’d dive through it rather than float over it, which I thought was cool. I sat for a while hoping that a White-wing or two would float into view, in the exact same way they did before, but no luck. I moved on.

I stopped at a couple places up the coast for some other targets with no luck. Good birds, though, included a Great Cormorant, maybe the furthest south on the eastern seaboard and more Common Loons than I’d ever seen. It’s impossible to exaggerate how many there were. They were flocking even, in groups of 15 to 20 in the sound, offshore, everywhere there was water. It was kind of crazy.

Up to Topsail Island to pick through the exotics for the Eurasian Collared-Doves that are supposed to be there, a bird I completely forgot about working on. No dice, but I’ve still got a couple places for it.

And one stop for a Common Goldeneye, appropriately in Goldsboro, that never showed up. That bird is becoming a frustrating no-show.

What could have been four ended up as one. Oh well, at least it was a lifer.