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July 12, 1999 |
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no ruff helicopter |
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July 12, 1999 Nests remaining to hatch: 4 Today's Reading: none
Copyright © 1999, Janet I. Egan |
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All four nests that remain to hatch survived the high tide over the weekend. Definite good news.
All three Coast Guard vehicles stayed around for a long time. The helicopter raised and lowered an empty basket of some kind repeatedly. The jet crisscrossed the sky. The ship moved a little to the south and the helicopter followed it. Either that or the helicopter pushed the ship a little to the south. This went on for maybe an hour or more. The staff biologist and the guy who is managing the reconstruction of the parking lot 2 boardwalk came over to watch from my vantage point. None of us had any idea what was going on, but from the fact that they were at it so long and they kept doing the same thing over and over again we figured they must be practicing some kind of rescue operation. I guess if the Coast Guard ever had to rescue me from the ocean I'd feel better knowing they'd practiced the maneuver beforehand. Hard as it was to leave this drama in progress when my relief came, I drove into Newburyport for a late lunch at The Tannery Cafe and some coffee at Fowle's. I needed to stick around for a Purrfect Companions meeting at the cat shelter at 6:30, so I browsed at Olde Port Book Shop (and petted Domino, the resident cat) for quite awhile. I came away with The Bird Watcher's America, a collection of essays edited by Olin Sewall Pettingill. Distinguished naturalists write on the best areas for birds in the US and Canada - what's not to like for $15? Having heard reports that the ruff I was looking for on Friday had been sighted at Stage Island Pool, once I was fed and caffeinated, I headed back to look for it. I looked at the salt pannes and everywhere along the way to Stage Island. Once at Stage Island a curious thing began to happen. Every darkish bird that might be a ruff turned out to be a short billed dowitcher. Then lesser yellowlegs turned into short billed dowitchers. Greater yellowlegs became short billed dowitchers. Willets became short billed dowitchers. When gadwalls started turning out to be short billed dowitchers, I figured either I'd entered the twilight zone or I'd burned out. I went back to the car. On the way I saw a man with a really nice scope and a lot of bleeding green head bites. I asked if he'd seen the ruff. "What's a ruff?" he replied. I described it to him and he promised he'd send up a smoke signal if he saw one. I looked at my watch and realized if I did not leave that very minute I would be late for the Purrfect Companions meeting.
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Today
has been one of the least busy, though not the quietest,
shifts of the summer. I only spoke with three visitors. The
temperature was mild and the greenheads were mostly not too
bad because I had a nice breeze coming in off the water for
a large part of the shift.
Midway
through the shift I saw a Coast Guard jet approaching from
the south. I didn't think anything of it until I heard (and
then saw) a Coast Guard helicopter also approaching from the
south. They converged over a Coast Guard ship near a channel
marker toward the north end of the island. The jet kept
flying in circles and the helicopter hovered over the water
getting lower and lower and kicking up quite a spray. They
lowered a guy in an orange survival suit into the water and
then lifted him up and lowered him onto the ship. The wash
from the helicopter blades was so intense it looked like
they were actually pushing the ship.
I
made it to the meeting on time. Kendra was eating her
supper, a roast beef sandwich and some french fries, at the
conference table. Jaguar loves meetings anyway, and meetings
with food on the table command his full attention. After the
meeting was over, Martha offered him some of Kendra's left
over fries but he sniffed them intensely then didn't eat
them. I guess they smell better than they taste.