Local Vocalizations

    What may be the last of the Cackling Geese were overhead this morning. Bird books say the migration of these long-distance travelers drops sharply in early May. Their journeys between the high Arctic and the Tex-Mex border make them a special aerial treat twice a year here on the Atlantic Flyway; once in awhile we spot some on the barrier islands nearby for a feeding stop.

I heard a few off to the west early today, but yesterday was the big score. There were four flocks of 20 to 40 birds travelling together SSW to NNE directly overhead when I stepped out around 0630 to check on alewife activity in the creek. I scrambled around the house to get a better look and watch them off to the horizon. A gorgeous sight and the sound of scores of birds cackling high in the air was the voice of nature herself. A great start to the day … with a long finish, like a fine chardonnay.

 We have had some other visitors in the air of late. The Laughing Gull, another avian vocal artist, is not unusual for Long Island waters, but I rarely see more than a few per season over our property; They have other favored places nearby. But this year, starting about 10 days ago, great numbers are moving back and forth along the Carll’s River. Maybe this year’s alewife run, which appears to be very strong, has lured them into waterways not usually frequented.

While this blog is devoted to birdlife, I can’t leave mention of the alewife without some background. I monitor the annual spring run as part of a survey run by the Seatuck Environmental Association and the South Shore Estuary Reserve, among others. Properly called River Herring, the Alewife is a major food source for many birds such as herons and egrets, but an even more important one for the big fish along the coast.

We are building the database on their presence here on LI, where most breeding creeks and rivers have been blocked by dams for a century or much more. I am happy to say my sightings in the past couple of years are the first official recordings of a remnant population that is coming into the lower reaches of the Carll’s River – LI’s third longest – in many decades. They are stopped not far from here by a big dam, upon which -- with the help of our data – we expect to see a fish ladder installed in the future.

The fish manage to produce their own sound signature in the deep of night, about an hour or two before the first birds start calling around 0400. They like to come into the estuaries under cover of darkness, which provides protection from predators. From my bedroom window I hear the fish in the creek nearby, splashing vigorously as they go through their mating ritual, which I am told will result in thousands of small fry with a couple of weeks. They will do a lot more of that once we can allow them past the dam into the miles of river upstream.

Gray Catbirds were gone from our property from late October until just a week or so ago. They are back in force, setting up shop as they do each year in shrubbery near the creek mouth. Strong vocalizers, Catbirds, while not carrying as wide a repertoire as their Mockingbird cousins, have a rich and varied set of songs. They imitate other birds in addition to the meow-like call which gives them their name. Interestingly they can be both secretive and bold. When on the hunt for food they will come within feet of people, but most of the time they are hidden in the greenery even when belting out their morning songs.

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