Greetings and salutations from Cape Cod! I am on a family vacation this week and we all decided to rent a house in Barnstable.
At first, the weather was a little sketchy, but after a day of that oppressive humidity and the constant threat of rain, the conditions really turned around. I have had four perfect days of photography and have collected enough new photos to fuel my column for the next two months. The only problem I have now is where to start.
Well, it turns out that this question is a little easier to answer than you might think. I am here with two nieces and a nephew for whom I am the beloved Uncle Bill. We have been swimming, walking on the beach, going on whale watch cruises and just having a wonderful time in general. However, the quiet moments needed for successful writing are few and far between. I just bid them all adieu as they headed out for an afternoon at the beach without me and now I am ready to roll.
It turns out their destination is the same exact beach that I visited this morning. The only difference is that when I left the house it was about 5:30 in the morning and I was alone. I decided to visit Craigville Beach to see what the situation was over there and I arrived to find myself the only person on the sand. It was my kind of morning.
The sun was up, but it was so early that the light was coming in almost parallel to the ground. Better still was the fact that when the sun broke over the horizon it was one of those sunrise moments when the sun was nothing more than a deep pink circle in a blue-gray sky. It was absolutely perfect because I was in search of shorebirds and I wanted to get that gorgeous light splashed across their gorgeous feathers. The only missing ingredient was cooperative birds.
Standing on the beach at the water’s edge, I had a decision to make: east or west? I opted to head east so I could get ahead of the birds and then have the sun to my back on the return trip to my car. It wasn’t long before I caught up with the birds I sought and I was able to start taking photos almost immediately. Least sandpipers, sanderlings, semipalmated plovers and willets were all present in large numbers, but then I caught sight of another bird that was noticeable in its singularity.
The bird was a ruddy turnstone (Arenaria interpres) and I was extremely happy to find it in its full breeding plumage. This is not the first time that I have covered the turnstone in my column, but I think that I can safely say that today I am able to unveil the best turnstone photo of my photographic career. This bird was a little shy at first, but after about an hour I was able to get the photo I was dreaming of.
This bird was definitely in the “wrong” habitat for a turnstone. As its name might suggest, the bird actually has a habit of approaching small stones and rocks and flipping them over to see what delicious creatures might be hiding underneath. A beach that is composed mostly of fine-grained sand doesn’t have the same stone-flipping opportunities that a more rocky, pebbly beach with a plentiful covering of shells might provide, but the birds are now returning from their breeding grounds in the islands of the Canadian Arctic. Like many a human traveler, they have to make pit stops along the way to their final destination and I was lucky to catch this guy as he fed with a mixed flock of travelling shorebirds.
I say “guy” because the black markings on the face and breast are so bold. The female ruddy turnstone has black in the same areas, but there are white feathers sprinkled in that make the fields of black look a little less neat. By winter, however, the bold red feathers and the more intense black will all be replaced by a more subdued collection of browns and charcoal grays; perfect for blending into the habitat and much less provocative to birds that need to spend time in one another’s company.
Now I realize that I am seeing this photo through the eyes of the person who was actually there, but there is a rosy quality to the light that I find stupendously beautiful. The sun was low in the sky and fighting its way through some morning haze, which is why there is no shadow of any kind on the sand beneath the bird. The photo gods saw that I was doing all the right things and they rewarded me with a combination of perfect light and perfect bird, and I was able to capture that moment with the simple press of a button.
So, this is just the first of a series of columns that will focus on the marine life of Massachusetts. Coming up in the next few weeks, I will share stories of my adventures finding seals that were seeking refuge from marauding sharks, whales that were parting company and breaching in farewell, pelagic birds that were living their lives miles from shore and the little shorebirds that decorate the beaches of this wonderful cape of ours. For now, however, I have to get out and enjoy a little “me time” and recharge the Uncle Bill batteries before my next performance is required.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 21 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service and the Massachusetts State Parks, and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit www.speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.