1:00 PM Two sharpies materialize seemingly out of nowhere by the road in front of some vegetation and buzz each other.  Incredulously I ask Steve if they could be the two that flew in there about twenty minutes ago? Earlier when we saw one sharpie come in over the dunes I put down a cup of hot tea that I’d been drinking. Coming relatively close to us the bird changed direction to fly over some vegetation when another seemingly materialized out of nowhere!   The pair disappeared among some vegetation by the bay. Maybe they would soon appear above its blue water. Nothing. Nada. Now only the birds know if they are the same pair. However as they fly off they’re not talking. Returning to my tea I find it has turned ice cold without the benefit of cubes.

Now I understand why someone once referred to the sharpie as “feathered lightning.” 

Almost immediately another sharpie flies quickly between small trees and scrub below the dunes on the beach side. It almost appears to be tunneling among the dark green vegetation. Now I understand why someone once referred to the sharpie as “feathered lightning.”  It passes some bare sand and disappears. Soon two sharpies materialize again on the ocean side.  They split off from each other and one comes abreast of us flying high. I hold binoculars on the raptor watching the sun come through its splayed primaries as it flies past a glittering section of ocean on its way to only-it-knows where.

This sharpie Steve says was an adult and he shows me a drawing in a field guide that illustrates the adult’s dark back. This one’s a rarity here as overwhelmingly the sharpies that pass through are immature.

2:07 PM “Both are Coops” Steve calls out. There’s an adult Cooper’s hawk and an immature one flying  by the  bay. One has a long black-banded tail with a lot of white near the base and a rich brown body, which is held straight. The other has a bluish back and reddish breast. I lock a picture of the first bird in my mind’s eye not just because it is stately but also because I want to be able
to start identifying these raptors. Steve shows me comparative drawings of the Cooper’s and the sharpie in his field guide explaining that the Cooper’s head is proportionally larger than that of the sharpie. Great in-the-field information.

2:24 PM Earlier we saw a harrier flying along by the bay toward the bridge. The brown bodied, white-rumped, marsh hawk banked slightly showing a butterscotch color, glowing in the midday sun. Magic in motion. Now there’s another one going the wrong way over the dunes. Maybe it’s feeding; maybe it didn’t like the prospect of flying to New Jersey.
 
3:06 PM A small falcon with a lot of bright yellow on the breast and with what
looks to be a huge eye for it’s size flies by fast. It’s the kestrel, the
smallest of our falcons, and doesn’t have a huge eye but a vertical black
“mustache” below the eye. That’s something I won’t forget.

An adult merlin perched atop a telephone pole eating a small bird looks around while feeding. The falcon does this for a long time and finally moves toward the edge of the pole, its tail partially hanging over. Fueled up and ready to go.  Soon it’s gone. The moment is peaceful and tranquil. The day, like the birds, seems to have flown by. With the tally at 38 Steve and Walter will stay for another hour but I’m chilled and at 3:30 PM it’s time to go.
 

I like the spectacle and mystery of the hawks.

What’s the attraction in standing on an open windy platform, bundled up like an Eskimo, getting fleeting looks at migrating hawks, sometimes with barely time to blink? I like the spectacle and mystery of the hawks. The spartan setting and beach landscape create mood. Some of the veteran hawk watchers are walking encyclopedias of bird knowledge, which I deeply admire, and are invaluable for a  novice in learning to recognize the raptors. Their camaraderie is genuine and the jokes are good.   You can't ask for more on an Autumn day.

Photos by Trudy Battaly

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