It feels as though we are finally in true sabbatical mode. In the past weeks we have visited the Russells in Bonavista (parents of our friend Caroline Todd, wife of College of the Atlantic’s marine mammologist, Sean Todd); seen the Atlantic Puffin colony and the Puffin Festival in Elliston; traveled around the island communities of Fogo, Tilting, and Change Island (which is on the Change Islands); went to the Fish, Fun, and Folk Festival in Twillingate; visited the old whaling port of Dildo, and, of course, made our regular trip back to St. John’s for medical follow-up (for Anouk and me). We have seen several Moose, although nothing to rival the 83 we saw in two weeks last year when we visited the province. I have gone fishing (remember, in Newfoundland, there is only fish known as ‘fish’ and that is the Atlantic Cod). And I have seen some birds.
Let me rephrase that: I have seen a LOT of birds! Maybe it is just that we are finally venturing further away from St. John’s and the landscape is changing, although everywhere the eye looks it seems to still take in vast forests of Black Spruce on the uplands with peat bogs in the depressions. Maybe it is just that summer has finally hit (June was so called that a Newfoundlander we had dinner (the mid-day meal) with at Masonic Lodge at the Fish, Fun, and Folk Festival referred to it as Junuary) with temperatures consistently in the high 20s (that would be Celsius) province-wide for weeks now. And maybe it was that I have been haunted with that threshold lure of 100 birds that has been eluding me for so long. Whatever the reason, I have suddenly been seeing more birds.
Greater Yellowlegs were seemingly on every exposed bit of intertidal mudflat in Notre Dame Bay; the occasional Lesser Yellowlegs (I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to be known as the ‘lesser’ of anything—perhaps they should be named Bigger and Smaller Yellowlegs, or Yellowlegs-With-The-Slightly-Recurved-Bill and just plain Yellowlegs, or Yellowlegs-With-The-slightly-Knobbier-Knee-Joint and Yellowlegs, or we could save a lot of angst, have everyone learn Latin, and simply refer to them by their scientific names of Tringa melanoleuca and Tringa flavipes) side-by-each with the Greater clearly illustrates the size difference. That elusive song I have been hearing for the whole of our travels, that song that is tonally akin to the American Robin, but is not the American Robin…well, I finally managed to find the mystery songster perched cooperatively atop a spruce: a Fox Sparrow. And now they seem to be singing EVERYWHERE! Fledgling Dark-eyed Juncos are falling out of their nest. Literally. Walk in the woods and they are regularly underfoot.
A Common Yellowthroat (15 July) and Roseate Tern (16 July) in Elliston. Yellow-bellied and Alder Flycatchers (18 July) in Chance Cove. Least Sandpiper (20 July), Caspian Tern and Fox Sparrow (21 July), Ruddy Turnstone (22 July), and a Parasitic Jaeger (23 July) while out fishing, all Fogo Island and vicinity. Mourning Dove (27 July) in Twillingate.
The avian highlight of the trip so far, though, is also a life-bird for me (which is particularly exciting because I don’t see life-birds very often anymore).
While we were camping at the municipal park in the village of Fogo, on Fogo Island, I went for an early morning perambulation to the privy to, well, you know. The approach is a boardwalk with a series of single-step level changes. My eyes blurred with sleep (it was about 4:00 in the morning, after all), I stepped forward, except there was no boardwalk, or, rather, it was one course lower. I went keester over kettle, seriously spraining my left foot. @#$%! It hurt, and I eventually struggled back to my feet. By the time I got back to the COW (Cabin-On-Wheels) the inside ball of my foot was swollen and black-and-blue with a nice (or not so nice, depending on your literary interpretation) knot on the top of my foot. It hurt enough to warrant a visit to the hospital. Fortunately for me, x-rays did not reveal anything broken.
So how, you may be asking, does this fit in with a life-bird? Bear with me…. As you may know, one of my many favorite expressions is why use a hundred words when a thousand will do?
The next day we went to the National Historic Register village of Tilting where we met Bonnie, an anthropologist from Rutgers who has been regularly coming to Tilting since her graduate research days thirty-some years ago. Bonnie offered to take us on a hike along the Turpin Trail. Given my bum foot (remember my stumble in Fogo?), which compliments my pinched-sciatic-nerve-numbed right, I chose to stay behind to watch birds. I set out my spotting scope and started scanning the nearby beach and mudflats. Greater Yellowlegs. Greater Yellowlegs. Greater Yellowlegs. Greater Yellowlegs. Lesser Yellowlegs. Spotted Sandpiper. Spotted Sandpiper. American Robin. Fox Sparrow. Dark-eyed Junco. Ruddy Turnstone! I love Ruddy Turnstones! They are a beautiful boreal shorebird that I only occasionally see in migration…and clearly this one is at the very early end of fall migration. I spent a lot of time looking at the Turnstone, scanning some of the surrounding area, but always coming back to the Turnstone.
As I was watching the Turnstone for the umpteenth time, a bird walked in front of it that looked different. Smaller than the Turnstone. Smaller than the nearby American Robin. A bit of reddish in the flanks. Sort of a wedge-shaped lighter border on the side of the head. Clearly a passerine, but what is it? A Horned Lark? No. An American Pipit? Definitely not. B’y, based on my memory of the two Varied Thrushes I have seen in my life, could it be that? Dare I run, er, I mean, hobble back to COW to get my field guide? No choice, I don’t know for sure what this bird is. Look a few more minutes, take a few more field notes to aid identification just in case it is not there when I return. An interminable age later I return with my 5th edition of the National Geographic Guide to the Birds of North America. Varied Thrush. Page 350. NO! IT IS NOT A VARIED THRUSH! But it is so thrush-like!
EUREKA! The red flanks and the wedge-shaped markings on the side of the head are definitive! I am looking at a Redwing! (No wonder it was so thrush-like, it is of the genus Turdus, the same as the American Robin, which is also in the thrush family.) This is a Eurasian bird that, according to my field guide, is known to show up in Newfoundland! I watched the bird for a long time, taking numerous digi-scope pictures (that is where you hold up your camera to the lens of the spotting scope and press the shutter release) and movies.
Uh-oh, I may have watched the Redwing for too long. I hopped (hobbled) in the COW and took off down the road to meet Natalie, Anouk, and Bonnie, who were walking down the road toward me. Oops…
Total Newfoundland birds: 106
Monday, July 28, 2008
Fishing
Every bit of Fogo Island fits my personal definition of an outport: small fishing communities (or former fishing communities), rugged landscape, friendly people, accessible only by boat (in this case, an ice-breaking car ferry). Natalie has been excited about Fogo Island for a long time. For some reason, I could not get my head around the abstract notion of Fogo. However, once we got there, I was smitten! I could stay there a long, long time.
One of the many ways we get to know a community is to eat at the local restaurants. Our first night on Fogo we ate supper (the evening meal) at Beach’s Restaurant in the village of Fogo. Anouk was busy doing her job, serving as the MacSpring ambassador to Newfoundland. She would walk her adorable little baby walk, a wide-legged stance sort of wobbling around, arms held shoulder high for balance. Every woman in the place commented that “she is some cute” or “she is some precious” or “she is some adorable” or “she is some blond…and look at those blue eyes.” Anouk would go up to them, smile, and sometimes take their finger or touch their leg. The men, almost in spite of themselves, would warm up, too.
This opened up a meal-long dialog with the table immediately adjacent ours. Junior and Carole King introduced themselves, Junior offering his hand in friendship, “I’m Junior—that’s my given name—Junior King, and this is my wife, Carole.” Junior works as a medical technician in the local hospital (given our spate of injuries, Natalie has taken to noting the location of every hospital), a local boy who grew up in neighboring Change Islands.
During the course of the evening we talked up a range of subjects: fishing, medicine (Canadian vs. American vs. Canadian), out-migration (Newfoundlands biggest export is its people), politics (we both bemoaned the sorry state of the U.S.’s global standing), and fishing (in Newfoundland, everything comes back to fishing). It turns out the next day was the start of the recreational Cod-fishing season, or, in local parlance, it was the start of the fishing season. In Newfoundland, there is only one fish, and that is the Atlantic Cod. All other fish are called by their common or colloquial names. I had barely made a comment about hoping to go fishing at some point when Junior offered to take me out the very next day.
So the next day, Tuesday (22 July), started off with a virtual cloud over the day: I severely sprained my foot (see the next story…). OUCH! The day picked up with the unexpected finding of a life-bird: a Redwing (see the next story…)! At this point, I really did not expect that we would get to our campsite in time to meet Junior.
By suppertime, time of the evening meal, we finally made it back. The local little kids were at soccer practice in the field adjoining our campsite, so Anouk made a bee-line for them. Natalie later told me that a little boy, all of 3 or 4, was trying to teach Anouk how to kick a soccer ball. Apparently his mother kept telling him that Anouk was too little to know how to kick the ball and the boy replied emphatically that was why he was trying to teach her.
Anyway, Junior pulls up in his pick-up truck and asks if I was up for fishing…or did I want him to amputate my foot…he had a dull and rusty box-cutter with him that he thought would do the job. Marshall, the campground manager, pulled up in his mini-van and asked if Junior was bothering me. Suddenly I was one of the locals, leaning against the car, chatting about the kids’ soccer practice. Marshall asked Junior if he was going out fishing or not, and Junior asked me if I was game. YOU BET!!!
So off we go, to his home about a kilometer away. Junior’s garage may be the fishing equivalent of Natalie’s and my basement: he could outfit and a Boy Scout troop for fishing. I say Boy Scout instead of the more traditional ‘army’ because all of the Wellies he had were made for small feet, not the size 12 canoes I sport. Anyway, he rustles up a pair or felt-lined Wellies, pulls out the felts, and voila, I have boots. Then he gives me one of those jackets with the life-jacket built in…and we are good for bear…or Fish. Junior’s son, Chris, is to join our party. Delman, whose Newfie accent is so thick I need Junior to interpret, comes by to send us off.
We motor out through a narrow channel into the open ocean. Fifteen minutes of cruising later and we spy a wooden dory that two men rowed out to fish. We pull up and they say the fishing is no good, so we cruise another ten minutes, slow, and drop our lines. Junior and Chris are using handlines; they give the CFA (Comes From Away) a heavy-duty rod and open-face reel.
We all are jigging, letting our lures sink ten fathoms to the bottom, then twitch them up and let them settle. Junior catches the first fish (Hey Junior, how much are you going to pay me to not post its size here?), and minutes later I pull in a good sized one: over half as long as I am tall and a good 3 or 4 kilograms. No sooner had I pulled it off the hook, placed it in the fish bin, and dropped my line before I hooked another. And another. And another. Junior was pulling them in, too. In no time flat, between us, we landed ten Fish. Chris did not catch any up to this point; Junior said it was because Chris was fishing on the wrong side of the boat. Eventually Chris did catch a fish: a sculpin. This wide-mouthed, spiny-finned bottom-feeder is not a desired fish and Junior is sure to remind Chris of this fact. We slowly drift into deeper water and we are all catching sculpin. After another hour of chasing Fish, the sun is getting low to the horizon and we head in.
On the way in, Junior says that he is not sure of the regulations, and with me being an American CFA, to avoid trouble, that I should give him the fish. Back at the dock, he quickly fillets (in Newfoundland, they pronounce the ‘t’) the fish and gives me four, which become supper the next night for the family MacSpring.
One of the many ways we get to know a community is to eat at the local restaurants. Our first night on Fogo we ate supper (the evening meal) at Beach’s Restaurant in the village of Fogo. Anouk was busy doing her job, serving as the MacSpring ambassador to Newfoundland. She would walk her adorable little baby walk, a wide-legged stance sort of wobbling around, arms held shoulder high for balance. Every woman in the place commented that “she is some cute” or “she is some precious” or “she is some adorable” or “she is some blond…and look at those blue eyes.” Anouk would go up to them, smile, and sometimes take their finger or touch their leg. The men, almost in spite of themselves, would warm up, too.
This opened up a meal-long dialog with the table immediately adjacent ours. Junior and Carole King introduced themselves, Junior offering his hand in friendship, “I’m Junior—that’s my given name—Junior King, and this is my wife, Carole.” Junior works as a medical technician in the local hospital (given our spate of injuries, Natalie has taken to noting the location of every hospital), a local boy who grew up in neighboring Change Islands.
During the course of the evening we talked up a range of subjects: fishing, medicine (Canadian vs. American vs. Canadian), out-migration (Newfoundlands biggest export is its people), politics (we both bemoaned the sorry state of the U.S.’s global standing), and fishing (in Newfoundland, everything comes back to fishing). It turns out the next day was the start of the recreational Cod-fishing season, or, in local parlance, it was the start of the fishing season. In Newfoundland, there is only one fish, and that is the Atlantic Cod. All other fish are called by their common or colloquial names. I had barely made a comment about hoping to go fishing at some point when Junior offered to take me out the very next day.
So the next day, Tuesday (22 July), started off with a virtual cloud over the day: I severely sprained my foot (see the next story…). OUCH! The day picked up with the unexpected finding of a life-bird: a Redwing (see the next story…)! At this point, I really did not expect that we would get to our campsite in time to meet Junior.
By suppertime, time of the evening meal, we finally made it back. The local little kids were at soccer practice in the field adjoining our campsite, so Anouk made a bee-line for them. Natalie later told me that a little boy, all of 3 or 4, was trying to teach Anouk how to kick a soccer ball. Apparently his mother kept telling him that Anouk was too little to know how to kick the ball and the boy replied emphatically that was why he was trying to teach her.
Anyway, Junior pulls up in his pick-up truck and asks if I was up for fishing…or did I want him to amputate my foot…he had a dull and rusty box-cutter with him that he thought would do the job. Marshall, the campground manager, pulled up in his mini-van and asked if Junior was bothering me. Suddenly I was one of the locals, leaning against the car, chatting about the kids’ soccer practice. Marshall asked Junior if he was going out fishing or not, and Junior asked me if I was game. YOU BET!!!
So off we go, to his home about a kilometer away. Junior’s garage may be the fishing equivalent of Natalie’s and my basement: he could outfit and a Boy Scout troop for fishing. I say Boy Scout instead of the more traditional ‘army’ because all of the Wellies he had were made for small feet, not the size 12 canoes I sport. Anyway, he rustles up a pair or felt-lined Wellies, pulls out the felts, and voila, I have boots. Then he gives me one of those jackets with the life-jacket built in…and we are good for bear…or Fish. Junior’s son, Chris, is to join our party. Delman, whose Newfie accent is so thick I need Junior to interpret, comes by to send us off.
We motor out through a narrow channel into the open ocean. Fifteen minutes of cruising later and we spy a wooden dory that two men rowed out to fish. We pull up and they say the fishing is no good, so we cruise another ten minutes, slow, and drop our lines. Junior and Chris are using handlines; they give the CFA (Comes From Away) a heavy-duty rod and open-face reel.
We all are jigging, letting our lures sink ten fathoms to the bottom, then twitch them up and let them settle. Junior catches the first fish (Hey Junior, how much are you going to pay me to not post its size here?), and minutes later I pull in a good sized one: over half as long as I am tall and a good 3 or 4 kilograms. No sooner had I pulled it off the hook, placed it in the fish bin, and dropped my line before I hooked another. And another. And another. Junior was pulling them in, too. In no time flat, between us, we landed ten Fish. Chris did not catch any up to this point; Junior said it was because Chris was fishing on the wrong side of the boat. Eventually Chris did catch a fish: a sculpin. This wide-mouthed, spiny-finned bottom-feeder is not a desired fish and Junior is sure to remind Chris of this fact. We slowly drift into deeper water and we are all catching sculpin. After another hour of chasing Fish, the sun is getting low to the horizon and we head in.
On the way in, Junior says that he is not sure of the regulations, and with me being an American CFA, to avoid trouble, that I should give him the fish. Back at the dock, he quickly fillets (in Newfoundland, they pronounce the ‘t’) the fish and gives me four, which become supper the next night for the family MacSpring.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
On meeting a writer
Life in Newfoundland is great. We are still base-camped in a little tiny outport aka coastal fishing village), have been here in Elliston for about a week, getting to know the community and, thanks to Anouk's big smile and wandering legs, making new friends. Had tea yesterday afternoon in the home of a well-known Newfoundland author who shared wonderful stories of her childhood in outport Newfoundland. This was a highlight for me as I had read her stuff and really enjoyed it...something about meeting someone you admire and realizing they are a normal person! And the fun part was that we met her simply because we rode our bikes by her house a few times on the way to a puffin colony and her son popped out and said, "Now where are you folks from..." One thing led to another and I learned whose house it was and the next day it was tea in the front room for all. Wonderful!
We are here for a couple more days. I have had some great meetings with folks involved in tourism planning and fisheries and heritage preservation on this penisula. Yes, remember, this little junket is work after all! Actually, I do feel like I am learning a lot and have been doing a ton of writing too.... (I am writing this from College of the North Atlantic -- yes, North Atlantic, as opposed to College of the Atlantic where I have my office in Maine -- where I have developed a connection and they are letting me use their machines, a nice thing because internet access is sketchy around here, as is cell connection.)
Thursday we head back to the city (St. John's) as both Rich and Anouk have doctor's appointmets. Well, Rich has a PT appointment for his back and leg (which appear to be doing ok, biking seems to help, and we have been doing a ton of it, trying to leave the truck parked as much as possible as gas prices are a bit outrageous...) and Anouk has a check-in with the doc. She is well, still lots of night-itches but nothing alarming. We are looking forward to the doc's ok to stop having to dress the burn site morning and night. She is clearly getting annoyed with the ritual!
We are here for a couple more days. I have had some great meetings with folks involved in tourism planning and fisheries and heritage preservation on this penisula. Yes, remember, this little junket is work after all! Actually, I do feel like I am learning a lot and have been doing a ton of writing too.... (I am writing this from College of the North Atlantic -- yes, North Atlantic, as opposed to College of the Atlantic where I have my office in Maine -- where I have developed a connection and they are letting me use their machines, a nice thing because internet access is sketchy around here, as is cell connection.)
Thursday we head back to the city (St. John's) as both Rich and Anouk have doctor's appointmets. Well, Rich has a PT appointment for his back and leg (which appear to be doing ok, biking seems to help, and we have been doing a ton of it, trying to leave the truck parked as much as possible as gas prices are a bit outrageous...) and Anouk has a check-in with the doc. She is well, still lots of night-itches but nothing alarming. We are looking forward to the doc's ok to stop having to dress the burn site morning and night. She is clearly getting annoyed with the ritual!
Elliston's Root Cellars
Today has been the kind of day that our sabbatical was designed for! We are halfway through a week of base-camping at the Elliston municipal campground on the shores of the North Atlantic in northeastern Newfoundland. This campground is definitely an undiscovered paradise, and hopefully my mentioning it by name in this blog won’t change that! Elliston is just east of Bonavista, the town that Rich mentioned last week where we were warmly welcomed by the Todd's and their parents who are life-long Newfoundlanders. I had heard of Elliston as the Root Cellar Capital of the World. What the heck that means I’ll get to in a minute….
First, let me tell you that before we came here, Elliston was described to me by an economic development guy in St. John’s as a prime example of a town that has successfully zeroed in on tourism as a way to help offset the trauma of the cod collapse. He had a story about how the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corp.) once mentioned Elliston as yet another outport shutting down due to economic collapse driven by the fisheries crisis. Apparently, CBC highlighted the town council’s economically driven decision to turn off the street lights as a symbol of the beginning of the end for outports in Newfoundland – kinda like we in Maine talk about the island communities facing the beginning of the end when the school or post office shuts down. Apparently, the people of Elliston would have none of it. I am still learning the details but soon enough, a community association called Tourism Elliston was formed and things clearly turned around.
Don’t get me wrong.... Though we do have a waterfront view, this is no mecca for the mass tourism type looking for sea, sun, and sex. There IS a beach, an extremely rare commodity in these parts, but from what I can see, the water is so cold that only screeching teenage girls venture in just to prove they can. But Rich and I, academic tourists that we are, love this town by the sea. It is wildlife and history and tea with the locals that keeps our bike wheels rolling! Elliston folks have figured out that they have two really unique things that visitors might enjoy. Root cellars is one of those things and they have well over a hundred that you can visit. Root cellars are just what they sound like: a cellar where you store your root vegetables. Only this isn’t just that spider-filled corner in the unfinished part of your basement. The Elliston root cellars are rooms built up and into the side of a hill. Local rock and mud is used to hold everything together, and a door (looking much like what I imagine Bilbo Baggins’ door might look like, wooden and on a metal hinge) marks the entry into the cellar. If you are standing above the cellar, you have no idea it is under you, as the roof is just part of the hillside. Inside, you find a squeaky clean dirt floor (no that doesn’t have to be an oxymoron) and temperature that stays cool and unfrozen year round. Potatoes, turnips, carrots, beets, and other root vegetables are kept year round. Cabbage gets canned before root-cellar-storage but the rest is secured in wooden bins.
Now this all may not sound like the world’s most intriguing thing to visit but root cellars, I now believe, are so interesting! The Elliston root cellars dot the landscape in this town and their simple presence gives you a flavor of the town’s history. Very cool, and very cool idea on the part of the local entrepreneurial sorts to capture me and my tourist dollars by inviting me to visit their creepy crawley dark places… People sure are crafty in Newfoundland!
I mentioned there are two things Elliston is famous for, and that other is Puffins. I’ll write about that another day, or maybe Rich already has? Guess I better check our own blog…
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Thar she blows!
Newfoundland is all about fish (remember, in Newfoundland, fish equals cod; otherwise, Newfoundlanders call it by its common or colloquial name). It was founded on fish. Until 1992, the economy was driven by fish. Most people lived on the coast because of the fish. The local calendar revolved around fish. You get the picture. Whalers have also referred to whales as fish (although probably not Newfoundlander whalers, otherwise they would have called them something else)…so, even though they are mammals, there is that.
Capelin are a smallish fish, distantly similar to Mackerel, and about the same size, too (about 6-8 inches, or about 15-20 centimeters). The Capelin are an important part of the food chain. Capelin runs generally start in early summer, some time in June. You know the Capelin are running because the seabirds are going crazy catching and eating them, the whales arrive and go crazy catching and eating them, and the locals go crazy catching and eating them.
I have gone on a lot of whale watches in my life, but I have never seen whales like I have in Newfoundland!
Saturday we went out on an ecotour with Gatherall’s Puffin & Whale Watch out of Bay Bulls. What a contrast to all of the other bird and whale tour boats I have been on in my life! Quite literally, within minutes of leaving their pier we saw a pair of Minke Whales and a brace of Fin Whales. We didn’t even slow down (every other whale-watch I have been on would have stopped to milk either of these sightings for all they were worth) as we were going on to better whale watching territory.
By the time we reached the head of Bay Bulls, a mere ten minutes from the dock, we were in Humpback Whale heaven! A mother/calf pair were right next to us. Another pair of Humpbacks were within a few hundred meters. As I scanned the horizon with my binoculars, nearly every field had at least one whale; at one point, I had five whales in the field of view. Later, Natalie and I agreed that there were easily between 20 and 30 whales.
We continued on to the Witless Bay Islands Ecological Reserve to look at seabirds. This is the second largest colony of Atlantic Puffins in Newfoundland, with nearly 800,000 birds! The grassy upland slopes are stippled with their burrows. It is amazing to think that this little ten-inch football with wings can dig a four-foot burrow in which to lay its eggs. In addition to the puffins, there are cliff-nesting Black-legged Kittiwakes, Common Murres, Razorbills, Guillemots, a lone pair of Northern Fulmars; oh, and the largest colony of Leach’s Storm-Petrels in the world! Well over one million birds in this reserve!!!
And to top it all off, there were Gatheralls and crew ranging in age from about 10 to perhaps 50, and many of them sang sea shanties and other appropriate ballads. Even the daughter, whom I took to be about 10, and her friend sand a wonderful a cappella duet.
After the tour we continued down the Avalon shore and found a little RV park south of Tors Cove. Given our predilection for wilderness camping, the park was uninspiring: it was all mown flat, covered in gravel, with no natural screening between the dozen sites. We almost chose not to stay, but it was getting on in the evening, time to make Anouk so supper. All of the sites overlooked the southern end of the Witless Bay Islands Ecological Reserve. As we were driving the COW (Cabin on Wheels) to our site, we saw a blow! Humpback Whale! And another! And another! And another…. They were everywhere! We barely were able to focus on dinner for all of the whale sightings, easily 20 whales!
Sunday we made our way to Cape Race. This is the southernmost point of Newfoundland, with treacherous currents, countless shipwrecks, and fog that defines fog. We drove 19 kilometers out a dirt road to the Cape Race light. There is a small interpretive center focused on their history as a communications center, including the first Marconi in the late 1800s (or was it early 1900s?). We also scaled the 84 steps to the top of the lighthouse. We had no visibility, but that just enhanced the feeling of being remote.
We gravel-pit camped about halfway back on the dirt road near the Rookery. Monday morning dawned sunny and clear. From our campsite we were mesmerized by whales. We set up the spotting scope and saw Fin Whales, Humpback Whales, and a pod of unidentified dolphins. It was so hard to know where to look there were so many whales. We eventually broke camp and made the short walk in to the Rookery. We were up on a cliff, perhaps 200 feet above the ocean, looking down on thousands of Black-legged Kittiwakes nesting on the tiniest of ledges. The water was littered with alcids, mostly Razorbills, Atlantic Puffins, and turres (the local name for Commone Murre, a food favored by Newfoundlanders). And yes, there were whales everywhere!
It was difficult to pull ourselves away, but we wanted to go on to St. Vincents. Well, that was the plan. We got back to the COW and had a flat tire. DRAT! Fortunately, Toyota loads their Tacomas with a full-size spare.
We eventually made it to St. Vincents and, once again, the whales were everywhere…with one difference: these guys were within spitting distance of shore! We had perfect viewing conditions, too. Apparently the water drops off quickly, which allows the whales to come right on in. The Capelin were definitely running, at times making the water boil. Think about it: there has to be enough Capelin to feed the hundred, maybe thousands, of whales, as well as the millions of seabirds, while still maintaining enough of a population to sustain itself.
Although St. Vincents and area has not capitalized on marketing their whales, the locals enjoy it. In fact, they flock to the beach to watch the whales. It is a real social event for them.
The birds flock to the beach, too. There were hundreds of Northern Gannets, plunge diving into the schools of Capelin, at times mere feet from the shore! And thousands of kittiwakes!
At one point, Tom Hince, a bird tour operator out of Point Pelee, Ontario, showed up with his group. We had met them two days before when I saw a bunch of birders on the side of the road, scopes set up, scanning the islands of the Witless Bay Islands Ecological Reserve. They told me of a reported Little Gull in the neighborhood (no, I did not find it…DRAT!). But I did add White-winged Scoter and Spotted Sandpiper.
During supper (dinner is what Newfoundlanders call lunch), falafel and sweet potato, which we ate at one of the picnic tables at the beach, we had the scope set up to watch the whales. Shortly afterward, the offshore fog bank rolled in quickly. As it was rolling in toward the beach, I saw a line of black birds flying low to the water just in front of it. Being so close to shore, I automatically assumed they were scoters, but their wings were all wrong: they were long and narrow…like a pelagic bird. And then I realized that they were Sooty Shearwaters! Hundreds, possibly thousands of Sooty Shearwaters flying parallel to the beach in front of the fog bank, which at this point was a mere 50 feet from shore and rolling in.
We camped in the parking lot of this beach and all night long we were serenaded by the sounds of whales blowing just off the shore.
A Downy Woodpecker seen during the day Monday helped my bird list.
Total bird species: 92
Capelin are a smallish fish, distantly similar to Mackerel, and about the same size, too (about 6-8 inches, or about 15-20 centimeters). The Capelin are an important part of the food chain. Capelin runs generally start in early summer, some time in June. You know the Capelin are running because the seabirds are going crazy catching and eating them, the whales arrive and go crazy catching and eating them, and the locals go crazy catching and eating them.
I have gone on a lot of whale watches in my life, but I have never seen whales like I have in Newfoundland!
Saturday we went out on an ecotour with Gatherall’s Puffin & Whale Watch out of Bay Bulls. What a contrast to all of the other bird and whale tour boats I have been on in my life! Quite literally, within minutes of leaving their pier we saw a pair of Minke Whales and a brace of Fin Whales. We didn’t even slow down (every other whale-watch I have been on would have stopped to milk either of these sightings for all they were worth) as we were going on to better whale watching territory.
By the time we reached the head of Bay Bulls, a mere ten minutes from the dock, we were in Humpback Whale heaven! A mother/calf pair were right next to us. Another pair of Humpbacks were within a few hundred meters. As I scanned the horizon with my binoculars, nearly every field had at least one whale; at one point, I had five whales in the field of view. Later, Natalie and I agreed that there were easily between 20 and 30 whales.
We continued on to the Witless Bay Islands Ecological Reserve to look at seabirds. This is the second largest colony of Atlantic Puffins in Newfoundland, with nearly 800,000 birds! The grassy upland slopes are stippled with their burrows. It is amazing to think that this little ten-inch football with wings can dig a four-foot burrow in which to lay its eggs. In addition to the puffins, there are cliff-nesting Black-legged Kittiwakes, Common Murres, Razorbills, Guillemots, a lone pair of Northern Fulmars; oh, and the largest colony of Leach’s Storm-Petrels in the world! Well over one million birds in this reserve!!!
And to top it all off, there were Gatheralls and crew ranging in age from about 10 to perhaps 50, and many of them sang sea shanties and other appropriate ballads. Even the daughter, whom I took to be about 10, and her friend sand a wonderful a cappella duet.
After the tour we continued down the Avalon shore and found a little RV park south of Tors Cove. Given our predilection for wilderness camping, the park was uninspiring: it was all mown flat, covered in gravel, with no natural screening between the dozen sites. We almost chose not to stay, but it was getting on in the evening, time to make Anouk so supper. All of the sites overlooked the southern end of the Witless Bay Islands Ecological Reserve. As we were driving the COW (Cabin on Wheels) to our site, we saw a blow! Humpback Whale! And another! And another! And another…. They were everywhere! We barely were able to focus on dinner for all of the whale sightings, easily 20 whales!
Sunday we made our way to Cape Race. This is the southernmost point of Newfoundland, with treacherous currents, countless shipwrecks, and fog that defines fog. We drove 19 kilometers out a dirt road to the Cape Race light. There is a small interpretive center focused on their history as a communications center, including the first Marconi in the late 1800s (or was it early 1900s?). We also scaled the 84 steps to the top of the lighthouse. We had no visibility, but that just enhanced the feeling of being remote.
We gravel-pit camped about halfway back on the dirt road near the Rookery. Monday morning dawned sunny and clear. From our campsite we were mesmerized by whales. We set up the spotting scope and saw Fin Whales, Humpback Whales, and a pod of unidentified dolphins. It was so hard to know where to look there were so many whales. We eventually broke camp and made the short walk in to the Rookery. We were up on a cliff, perhaps 200 feet above the ocean, looking down on thousands of Black-legged Kittiwakes nesting on the tiniest of ledges. The water was littered with alcids, mostly Razorbills, Atlantic Puffins, and turres (the local name for Commone Murre, a food favored by Newfoundlanders). And yes, there were whales everywhere!
It was difficult to pull ourselves away, but we wanted to go on to St. Vincents. Well, that was the plan. We got back to the COW and had a flat tire. DRAT! Fortunately, Toyota loads their Tacomas with a full-size spare.
We eventually made it to St. Vincents and, once again, the whales were everywhere…with one difference: these guys were within spitting distance of shore! We had perfect viewing conditions, too. Apparently the water drops off quickly, which allows the whales to come right on in. The Capelin were definitely running, at times making the water boil. Think about it: there has to be enough Capelin to feed the hundred, maybe thousands, of whales, as well as the millions of seabirds, while still maintaining enough of a population to sustain itself.
Although St. Vincents and area has not capitalized on marketing their whales, the locals enjoy it. In fact, they flock to the beach to watch the whales. It is a real social event for them.
The birds flock to the beach, too. There were hundreds of Northern Gannets, plunge diving into the schools of Capelin, at times mere feet from the shore! And thousands of kittiwakes!
At one point, Tom Hince, a bird tour operator out of Point Pelee, Ontario, showed up with his group. We had met them two days before when I saw a bunch of birders on the side of the road, scopes set up, scanning the islands of the Witless Bay Islands Ecological Reserve. They told me of a reported Little Gull in the neighborhood (no, I did not find it…DRAT!). But I did add White-winged Scoter and Spotted Sandpiper.
During supper (dinner is what Newfoundlanders call lunch), falafel and sweet potato, which we ate at one of the picnic tables at the beach, we had the scope set up to watch the whales. Shortly afterward, the offshore fog bank rolled in quickly. As it was rolling in toward the beach, I saw a line of black birds flying low to the water just in front of it. Being so close to shore, I automatically assumed they were scoters, but their wings were all wrong: they were long and narrow…like a pelagic bird. And then I realized that they were Sooty Shearwaters! Hundreds, possibly thousands of Sooty Shearwaters flying parallel to the beach in front of the fog bank, which at this point was a mere 50 feet from shore and rolling in.
We camped in the parking lot of this beach and all night long we were serenaded by the sounds of whales blowing just off the shore.
A Downy Woodpecker seen during the day Monday helped my bird list.
Total bird species: 92
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Gravel pit camping on the Avalon…
Friday night, after we left St. John’s (yet again, this time we were there for my physiotherapy appointment), we decided to head south on the Avalon Peninsula. By the time we finally left the city, it was late afternoon, so we drove about an hour and pulled off the road for the night on Route 13.
What a novelty: camping just about anywhere you want! We passed several other “gravel pits” (some may have been actual gravel pits, others are just cleared areas on the side of the road), with anywhere from one to dozens of campers. Apparently the provincial government is trying to discourage this cultural phenomena, instead directing people to public or private campgrounds, but there is a long history of Newfoundlanders camping in open spaces where they do not have to pay.
Ours was just a little pull-off, but it gave Anouk room to explore. It may not have been the end of the Earth, but it sort of felt like it. The undulating barrens all around us had small copses of stunted spruce and alder interspersed with countless kettle-hole ponds. Savannah Sparrows and Dark-eyed Juncos sang all around us. Two bird other songs remained unidentified, but I desperately wanted to turn them into a Lincoln’s Sparrow and a Willow Ptarmigan. A lone Pickerel Frog doing its banjo call kept us company until well after dark (which in these parts is about 10:00 p.m.).
What a novelty: camping just about anywhere you want! We passed several other “gravel pits” (some may have been actual gravel pits, others are just cleared areas on the side of the road), with anywhere from one to dozens of campers. Apparently the provincial government is trying to discourage this cultural phenomena, instead directing people to public or private campgrounds, but there is a long history of Newfoundlanders camping in open spaces where they do not have to pay.
Ours was just a little pull-off, but it gave Anouk room to explore. It may not have been the end of the Earth, but it sort of felt like it. The undulating barrens all around us had small copses of stunted spruce and alder interspersed with countless kettle-hole ponds. Savannah Sparrows and Dark-eyed Juncos sang all around us. Two bird other songs remained unidentified, but I desperately wanted to turn them into a Lincoln’s Sparrow and a Willow Ptarmigan. A lone Pickerel Frog doing its banjo call kept us company until well after dark (which in these parts is about 10:00 p.m.).
The ongoing adventure in Canadian healthcare…
I hope you, dear reader, are not as tired of reading about our ongoing adventure in Canadian healthcare as I am eager to move on from it. Unfortunately, we are getting to see yet another aspect of the system.
About two weeks ago I woke to a very stiff back. No amount of stretching would ease the tension. Two days later, the tension finally eased, but I had pain radiating down my right leg and my right foot was tingling . . . you know that feeling, when you foot feels all pins and needles after it has fallen asleep. I went to a walk-in clinic, waited a long time, was finally seen by a doctor who took all of about two minutes to hear my story and prescribe an anti-inflammatory and a muscle relaxant. I was underwhelmed by his performance. Can you really make a diagnosis without taking time to truly hear your patient out? It was as though his sole job was to push through as many patients as possible. A few days later the symptoms had worsened, so Natalie talked me into going to the emergency room (‘emerge’ in local parlance). Dr. Murphy was not much better, but at least she prescribed physiotherapy.
The physiotherapist took over an hour with me going through skeleto-muscular tests, asking questions, probing, prodding. In the end, she came up with a plan of action to not just address the symptoms, but to solve the problem (I have a history of back issues).
It has been interesting to compare and contrast our family’s different experiences in Canadian healthcare. Anouk has received what I think could be the best care she could have had anywhere; meanwhile, I had two less-than-invigorating experiences, followed by the level of care I would expect.
About two weeks ago I woke to a very stiff back. No amount of stretching would ease the tension. Two days later, the tension finally eased, but I had pain radiating down my right leg and my right foot was tingling . . . you know that feeling, when you foot feels all pins and needles after it has fallen asleep. I went to a walk-in clinic, waited a long time, was finally seen by a doctor who took all of about two minutes to hear my story and prescribe an anti-inflammatory and a muscle relaxant. I was underwhelmed by his performance. Can you really make a diagnosis without taking time to truly hear your patient out? It was as though his sole job was to push through as many patients as possible. A few days later the symptoms had worsened, so Natalie talked me into going to the emergency room (‘emerge’ in local parlance). Dr. Murphy was not much better, but at least she prescribed physiotherapy.
The physiotherapist took over an hour with me going through skeleto-muscular tests, asking questions, probing, prodding. In the end, she came up with a plan of action to not just address the symptoms, but to solve the problem (I have a history of back issues).
It has been interesting to compare and contrast our family’s different experiences in Canadian healthcare. Anouk has received what I think could be the best care she could have had anywhere; meanwhile, I had two less-than-invigorating experiences, followed by the level of care I would expect.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Birding in a birdless land…
…At least, that is how it feels. I know that there are birds out there. All of the literature on birding in Newfoundland say so. My friends that come here to go birding tell me so. Memorial University of Newfoundland professor Bill Montevecchi talks of some impressive sightings. But I am just not finding all that many birds. Granted, trying to bird-watch from Anouk’s fourth floor hospital room complicated things somewhat during her five-week stay, although I did manage to see a Cooper’s Hawk one fine afternoon. Now we are out and I am trying to make up for lost time.
We went from winter to summer in a blink of an eye. I know the birds should be here, but where are they? What I mean to say is that I expected to be identifying a LOT more birds than I am. Back home in Maine, as we were preparing for this trip, I made a bird-list of all the species I thought I was likely to see. Then I made a list of the species I thought I might see with a little work. And, of course, I made a list of those species I could see if I am really lucky. They totaled 200 species! Well, we are two months into our Newfoundland adventure and I have just barely reached 80.
In terms of birds, it has not been quite so dreary as I may have made it out to be. So far there have been a few surprises. As we drove off the ferry in Channel-Port aux Basques, several Bonaparte’s Gulls were mixed in with some Black-headed Gulls. Our first night in Rose Blanche saw a small flock of Snow Geese fly overhead. In the Codroy Valley we found one, then two, then three, then seven Great Blue Herons, a species that until recently was largely unheard of on the island of Newfoundland. A Tennessee Warbler was both early, and the only one we have identified so far this trip. And an American Bittern on Long Pond in St. John’s was an unexpected bonus.
Then there are some observations that just don’t fit in with my previous experiences. In Pippy Park, the campground we stay at within the city limits of St. John’s, Boreal Chickadee is the common bird (I have always had to work hard to find them on the coast of Maine and in the Adirondacks). As their name implies, they like boreal forests…that is, the forests of the north, which is exactly what we have in Newfoundland. What is even stranger is seeing European Starlings and House Sparrows right alongside the Boreal Chickadees…or, at least, within a few meters of each other.
Some expected (but still welcomed) sightings include:
– Northern Gannets plunge-diving for their fishy food close in to shore.
– Atlantic Puffins flying so close I could catch them with a puffin net (think butterfly net but a LOT bigger) in Bonavista.
– Running on the Grand Concourse between the Fluvarium and Quidi Vidi Lake, seeing the bat-like flight of a Common Nighthawk, doubting it because they are quite rare in Newfoundland, and then seeing on the Internet that one was seen near where I saw it.
– Walking with Lindsey Russel to see his garden and having a pair of Whimbrels fly over (I think both of us were as tickled as the other to see these birds).
– Bumping into birders in the Codroy Valley who were out for a bird-a-thon, then getting invited to their barbeque that evening.
– Seeing many Iceland and Glaucous Gulls…far more than the scattered one or two I see each winter in Maine and the Adirondacks.
– Having a very cooperative Lesser Yellowlegs next to a Greater Yellowlegs so I could readily see the differences.
– Being on the unnamed-in-order-to-protect-the-guilty tour boat out of St. John’s, seeing colonies of thousands of cliff-nesting Black-legged Kittiwakes (I managed to ignore the erroneous narration by the captain who said they were the world’s smallest gull). Natalie, Anouk, and I may have been the only ones to see the lone puffin that trip, too.
For anyone that may be interested, here is my bird-list to date:
May 8th (Rose Blanche) – Snow Goose, Bald Eagle, Greater Yellowlegs, Black-headed Gull, Bonaparte’s Gull, Herring Gull, Great Black-backed Gull, Belted Kingfisher, Common Raven, Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Hermit Thrush, American Robin, Savannah Sparrow, Song Sparrow, white-throated Sparrow, Dark-eyed Junco, Common Grackle, House Sparrow
May 9th (Codroy Valley) – Great Cormorant, Chimeny Swift, Blue Jay, American Crow, Black-capped Chickadee, Red-breasted Nuthatch, Yellow-rumped Warbler
May 10th (Codroy Valley) – Canada Goose, Wood Duck, American Wigeon, American Black Duck, Mallard, Blue-winged Teal, Green-winged Teal, Common Merganser, Red-breasted Merganser, Ruffed Grouse, Great Blue Heron, Osprey, Northern Harrier, Merlin, Wilson’s Snipe, Northern Flicker, Tree Swallow, Barn Swallow, Tennessee Warbler, American Goldfinch
May 11th (Stephenville) – Ring-necked Duck, Northern Gannet, Iceland Gull, Black Guillemot, Rock Pigeon, European Starling, Pine Siskin
May 12th (Stephenville) – Greater Scaup, Ring-billed Gull
May 13th (Stephenville) – Purple Finch
May 14th (Stephenville) – Double-crested Cormorant, Glaucous Gull
May 17th (Come By Chance) – Common Loon, Lesser Yellowlegs, Golden-crowned Kinglet, Evening Grosbeak
May 18th (Come By Chance) – Arctic Tern
May 20th (St. John’s) – Boreal Chickadee
May 22nd (St. John’s) – Northern Pintail
May 23rd (St. John’s) – Red Crossbill
May 27th (St. John’s) – Yellow Warbler
May 29th (St. John’s) – American Bittern
May 31st (St. John’s) – White-winged Crossbill
June 4th (St. John’s) – Cooper’s Hawk, Common Tern
June 5th (St. John’s) – Black-legged Kittiwake, White-crowned Sparrow
June 8th (St. John’s) – Cedar Waxwing, Magnolia Warbler
June 12th (St. John’s) – Great Horned Owl
June 13th (St. John’s) – Killdeer
June 15th (St. John’s) – Common Nighthawk, Nashville Warbler, Blackpoll Warbler
June 28th (St. John’s) – Mourning Warbler
June 29th (St. John’s) – Surf Scoter
July 1st (Bonavista) – Whimbrel
Total: 82 species
Bonavista...
Bonavista. Good view. An apt name for this wonderful community. We traveled there to meet our friends Sean and Caroline Todd, and their daughter Sarah (the Todd’s live in Bar Harbor; Caroline grew up in Bonavista) and Caroline’s parents Lindsey and Minnie Russell.
Bonavista has really gotten under my skin. I love the outport feeling of the community; the small homes with little windows to minimize heat loss during the harsh winters; the narrow streets with no logical pattern to their layout (a very Newfoundland trait); the sense of history that permeates the community. Visiting Bonavista and the Russels, who let us camp in their driveway, made me feel like I have finally entered the real deal Newfoundland culture. Lindsey and I talked at length about fishing, gardening, hunting, his new four-wheeler and snow machine, heating with firewood, etc. Minnie was the consummate host, even insisting on doing our laundry.
Our first night there, Sean took me to me to see Atlantic Puffins. We drove to the lighthouse at dusk, parked, and instantly I was awed by the sight of hundreds, no, thousands of puffins flying around. And they were a mere stone’s throw away! There are not many places in North America, perhaps none, outside of Newfoundland, where you can see this density of charismatic megafauna. And what is even more surprising is that this is not even a large colony!
On Tuesday night, Canada Day, the Russels had us out to their “camp”, an old trailer permanently parked in a barren just outside of town. From the deck around the camper we could see icebergs floating in Bonavista Bay, Northern Gannets wheeling on the horizon and occasionally plunge-diving, Black-legged Kittiwakes (Newfoundlanders call them ‘tickle-asses’ because of how close they fly to one another), and the odd puffin. Sean said that in a few weeks, once the Capelin were running, whales would be abundant, too. Minnie made a wonderful dinner of fish (in Newfoundland, fish is the same thing as cod, all other fish are called by their actual or colloquial name).
Earlier in the day we toured downtown Bonavista. Being Canada Day, the provincially-managed historic sites were open for free, so we toured the Ryan Premises. There are five buildings restored to their original, historic condition, with interpretive exhibits of the fisheries. We also toured the Matthew, a replica of the ship John Cabot sailed to Newfoundland in 1497.
Our visit was far too short, but we will be back.
Bonavista has really gotten under my skin. I love the outport feeling of the community; the small homes with little windows to minimize heat loss during the harsh winters; the narrow streets with no logical pattern to their layout (a very Newfoundland trait); the sense of history that permeates the community. Visiting Bonavista and the Russels, who let us camp in their driveway, made me feel like I have finally entered the real deal Newfoundland culture. Lindsey and I talked at length about fishing, gardening, hunting, his new four-wheeler and snow machine, heating with firewood, etc. Minnie was the consummate host, even insisting on doing our laundry.
Our first night there, Sean took me to me to see Atlantic Puffins. We drove to the lighthouse at dusk, parked, and instantly I was awed by the sight of hundreds, no, thousands of puffins flying around. And they were a mere stone’s throw away! There are not many places in North America, perhaps none, outside of Newfoundland, where you can see this density of charismatic megafauna. And what is even more surprising is that this is not even a large colony!
On Tuesday night, Canada Day, the Russels had us out to their “camp”, an old trailer permanently parked in a barren just outside of town. From the deck around the camper we could see icebergs floating in Bonavista Bay, Northern Gannets wheeling on the horizon and occasionally plunge-diving, Black-legged Kittiwakes (Newfoundlanders call them ‘tickle-asses’ because of how close they fly to one another), and the odd puffin. Sean said that in a few weeks, once the Capelin were running, whales would be abundant, too. Minnie made a wonderful dinner of fish (in Newfoundland, fish is the same thing as cod, all other fish are called by their actual or colloquial name).
Earlier in the day we toured downtown Bonavista. Being Canada Day, the provincially-managed historic sites were open for free, so we toured the Ryan Premises. There are five buildings restored to their original, historic condition, with interpretive exhibits of the fisheries. We also toured the Matthew, a replica of the ship John Cabot sailed to Newfoundland in 1497.
Our visit was far too short, but we will be back.
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