It’s a winter morning on the Maine coast. It’s about 25°F. It’s overcast. It’s breezy and the water is choppy.
We have just arrived at a Winter Birding Adventure hosted by the Schoodic Institute1, which is part of the Acadia National Park system. We are piled up in layers, binoculars in-hand, ready to see some diving ducks!
The silvery quality of the cloud-filtered light has turned the landscape into a sort of graphite sketch, just a watercolor wash here and there to remind you that the water is actually still sapphire blue, the forest is actually still emerald green, the signature granite coastline is actually still rosy pink.
I really don’t get many great pictures of winter coastal birds. My lens is not very long, and the light is often not very strong. Just a few commemorative gestures to remind me of the wonder of standing bundled in layers, distinctly conscious of the icy cold persisting in the tips of my fingers and toes and nose, marveling as the wild ducks effortlessly navigate the freezing, tossing waters - absolutely right at home.
Winter on the coast of Maine is - mm, how shall we say this? - a bit inhospitable. Which makes it all the more striking to spend some time with winter birds. Because, well, they don’t even seem to notice that they’ve gotten themselves into an extraordinary predicament!
Here in Maine, a number of birds winter off the coast, including Common Loons, Common Eiders, Surf Scoters, Black Scoters, Buffleheads, American Black Ducks, and Harlequin Ducks, who were all in attendance at this particular birding adventure.
The thing about winter birds is, they’re not stuck here looking for the next flight out to warmer climates. They’re here because this is home, winter home, every winter. Which is kind of wild, when you think about it.
I would be freezing! I would be struggling! I would be miserable! And I wouldn’t make it. But for them, this choppy winter day is no different than a sunny summer day. It’s a day, and they’re doing just exactly what they do every day. Paddling, diving, preening, flapping, fishing. Just being ducks.
It’s kind of amazing, that they can be equally adapted to such diverse, extreme, challenging conditions - and it’s just ordinary to them. And, as always, I was delighted to spend a few hours with these now-familiar neighbors - and learn a few brand new things about them, too!
Some familiar birds take on a whole new look in winter. The Common Loons spend their summers in formal dress, strictly black tie for all occasions.
But for winter, they slip into something a little more casual, something more reflective of low wooly clouds tucked in tight around the margins, softly gray and white with understated elegance.
Scoters and Eiders are a familiar sight along a winter coast, often floating in large rafts far off shore, casually riding the tossing waves, dazzling periodically with a spectacular wing beat.
Common Eiders are usually pretty easy to identify, because it’s their winter plumage that is dramatically distinctive. You can spot that signature snowy jacket with the black cap from quite a distance, and then it’s simple to draw the conclusion that their coppery companions are Common Eider females.
But one bird had me stumped. He was all by himself for the moment, and he was very dark, but with a white chest. I asked one of our Schoodic hosts for help. “That’s also a Common Eider, actually, just in a different plumage.” A first-winter plumage, specifically. There’s something special about knowing that the bird you’re looking at is in this very specific stage of life. Like, Oh my goodness, you’ve made it this far, and when I see you next year, you’ll be in your all-grown-up look! And also, I think, because my kids are high-schoolers, I have a special place in my heart for this liminal moment when youth launches into adulthood. And it’s lovely to me that the birds wear this specific milestone on their feathers.
You can spot a Harlequin Duck a mile away, as well. They’re quite small, but that pattern is just absolutely distinctive, and nothing else is similar. There is no confusing a Harlequin Duck, even in a crowd!
What I like best about Harlequins is the way that they fish together. They form cozy little groups, bobbing about in the choppy surf, neatly reorienting so that they all face the same way. They take turns scoping out the action below the surface.
When one Harlequin spots a promising opportunity, it dives, and then everyone else dives in rapid succession, until not a Harlequin remains. Moments later, they start popping back up again. Bloop-bloop. Bloop-bloop-bloop-bloop. Bloop. They re-huddle, neatly re-orient, and start all over again. It’s so cute it has created a permanent giggle in my heart that I now feel every time I watch it or remember it!
And apparently, they are incredibly tough little birds! Our Schoodic Institute guide told us that Harlequin ducks, by finding their niche fishing along the crashing shores, endure so many constant impacts that they suffer frequent broken bones. Fracturing and healing and fracturing and healing has become the constant state of their normal daily lives.2
And the things is, these ducks don’t know that they’re being tough. They don’t look at their options and decide that they can handle whatever the Maine coast can throw at them. They are simply adapted to the conditions. It’s so fascinating, isn’t it? They’re adapted, not just to the calmer, warmer waters where they spend the summer months - but also to the crashing, tossing, frigid waters where they spend their winters. It’s all the same to them, just another day in another season in another year of life.
Another reason I could easily wish to be a bird. To sit in a difficult winter and feel no differently about it than if it were the very gentlest spring morning. Serene, confident, certain that you are as entirely-equipped for the one thing as for the other. What an incredible gift, reserved for the wild creatures, but an inspiration to us all.
Thanks for connecting here at Nature Moments, where we are making the world a better place, one nature connection at a time :) Be curious. Be amazed. And then do it again!
Thank you for your support! 💕
https://schoodicinstitute.org
https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Harlequin_Duck/overview
Beautiful! I love this and I love the perspective!
I was just saying to my sister, laughing about being an “old man,” and how “old” was a concept of time that humans use, but no other living creature is aware of.
Similar to these beautiful waterfowl just living life, as it should be.
Thank you once again ❤️
When I open your exquisite photos and read your poetic descriptions you bring such joy into my day and a balm to the soul. Blessings to you Sidney, that your extraordinary talent and heart-felt "plumage" persevere in the choppy waters of these challenging times and that your spirit continues to be enriched by your eye for hidden beauty.