2008 Tour Narrative
In Brief: Monhegan was, as always, absolutely lovely. Though we didn’t have a big push of migrants, we had enough, and we saw them well—in most cases very well. The Monhegan specialties, Lark and Clay-colored Sparrows and Dickcissel, were all represented, and falcons were everywhere; at one point five Peregrines were lined up on the windward side of Manana, a formidable peril for any small migrant that flew by. The Island was as charming as ever, the Maine coast spectacular, and the night skies unbelievably bright.
In Detail: Migration birding is almost always weather-dependent. This year’s Monhegan trip got the cold front we’d hoped for, but it was centered to the north and the resulting winds, while cool and dry, were from the northeast. It takes winds from the west to drift significant numbers of birds offshore (and thus onto Monhegan), and so our bird numbers were lower than we had hoped.
Having said that, the great joy of Monhegan birding is that it is never dull. Birds linger there, they are often very easy to see, and the whole environment is so charming and beautiful that just being there is its own reward. One of the best moments was watching the sparrow flock feeding on plantain seeds in a narrow driveway, where Clay-colored and Lark Sparrows and Dickcissel fed within a few feet of one another (and of us!). These three species seem to be seen more frequently on Monhegan that anyplace else in New England, in part, I think, because they—indeed many birds—are just more seeable on Monhegan. Many are tired and hungry from the extra effort required just to get to the island, and they are both sluggish and focused on replenishment—and there are a limited number of places to replenish, mostly in the town site where food is available.
Vireos were especially well represented. One berry-laden tangle of dogwood and viburnum housed a number of Red-eyeds, several Blue-headeds, and both Philadelphia and Yellow-throated, all sharing the abundance with dozens of Cedar Waxwings and a few Gray Catbirds and American Robins.
The falcon show was as good as ever. Merlins were seemingly everywhere, harassing the flickers and Blue Jays and chasing (and often catching) the Mourning Cloak butterflies that this year seemed unusually numerous. Several times we saw dots overhead that on inspection turned out to be Mourning Cloak wings drifting back to earth, all that was left of a successful Merlin attack. Peregrines were much in evidence as well; at one point five were lined up on rocks on the windward side on Manana, the island just across the narrow harbor from Monhegan, and they rose as one whenever a little passerine tried to overfly. Few did and none, as far as we could tell, succeeded.
Our gentle walks took us to Cathedral Woods, an area of dense old-growth White Spruce; the high cliff at Burnt Head; and the shore at Lobster Cover, where schools of herring were being pursued by Mackerel, which in turn were being chased by a huge bull Northern Gray Seal. On several occasions Minke Whales were just offshore, and at one point a huge shark, presumably a Basking Shark, swam by.
As is almost always the case, we spent a lot of time in town, looking at weedy backyards, wooded bits between small shingled houses, the town marsh, the “ballfield” around which the vireos clustered, and Icehouse Pond. We often passed other birders and shared news; Monhegan was, as always, a very collegial place.
Finally, I think all of us were struck by Monhegan’s after-dark quiet. Often the only sounds were natural: the chirp of crickets, the low ring of bell buoys, the lap of waves, the cries of gulls… and none of us could remember when we had last seen such a brilliant night sky, the Milky Way stretching like an illuminated if irregular path from horizon to horizon.
- Will Russell