The Telegram (St. John's)

Eider spectacle at Cape Spear

- Bruce Mactavish Winging it Bruce Mactavish is an environmen­tal consultant and avid birdwatche­r. He can be reached at wingingito­ne@yahoo.ca

I heard the reports of eiders at Cape Spear during the week while I was marooned at work. Some king eiders were being seen among the abundant Newfoundla­nd common eider. I decided that Cape Spear is where I would meet the dawn on Sunday morning.

With my spotting scope, tripod, binoculars and the backpack that protected my heavy camera gear, I walked from the parking lot down to the point while noting flock after flock of eiders flying south close by the shoreline before I was ready. I found my place of shelter from the west wind. The flocks of eider kept on coming at a nice rate. They were in good size flocks of 100 to 200 individual­s.

It was thrilling to see the eiders on the move at close range. There were king eiders among the throng, but the snow squalls and dull light challenged the photograph­y effort. The birds knew something was up because as soon as they stopped flying at 8 a.m. the wind and heavier snow squalls started up. Over the next two hours only occasional flocks of eiders passed. I decided to give it a break and come back in the afternoon hoping a feeding flock of eiders might be working over the beds of sea urchins by the shore.

In mid-afternoon I arrived back at Cape Spear. This time I climbed down on the rocks close to the water where you are not really supposed to go. But the wind was offshore and there was very little swell so there was no danger of getting salt spray on the lenses. I found a comfortabl­e natural rocky bench behind a rock wall that protected me from the wind and prying eyes from above. It was pleasant enough to pass a couple hours there without seeing much of interest. Then there was a sign. Less than 100 metres down the shore there were five gulls hanging in the wind looking down at something of interest. This could mean they were watching over a flock of feeding eiders hoping to steal their sea urchin meals or it could mean a seal was eating a fish and the gulls were looking for the scraps.

I scurried over the rocks and peaked over the edge. It was eiders! A flock of 120, rather small by March standards, but they were in very close and had not seen me.

Then the sun popped out. Was this really happening? The ducks were completely unaware of my presence as they dove in the surf next to the rocks. The camera fired off as fast as she could go maximizing the moments of luck.

Then it was time for the ducks to move offshore to let their gizzards go to work on the urchins they had just swallowed. I caught my breath and waited for Round 2. I had already secured some of my very best photograph­s of Newfoundla­nd common eiders. When they were 300 metres off shore they turned around and started swimming back in. Half-way back strings of eiders started flying in from the south and without hesitation landed among the others. Within two minutes the flock had swollen to 1,500 strong and there were king eiders in this flock.

The mass moved inshore to where I was already establishe­d. They wasted no time getting down to the business of diving for dinner. I poked the camera to the right and to the left around the rock where I was hiding. It was rare to be this close to such a mass of wary and beautiful birds. Shoot now and look at your booty later was my motto.

Then I saw something unexpected down through the lens. The warning bells quietly started going off in the back of my head. One of drake common eiders had an alarmingly bright orange bill. This was the classic mark of the western Arctic race of the common eider known as the Pacific eider in the birding world because that is where it goes in the winter. There are only couple of documented records for the Atlantic Ocean. I pelleted it with photos just in case it was that bird. It started preening. I was praying for it to rear up and flap its wings and show me the underside of its throat where the stamp of approval was located. My finger was already on the shutter button when it did just that revealing the black V tattooed on the underside of its chin. I nailed it with 12 photos in under two seconds. Each shot clearly showed the patented mark of the Pacific eider.

This eider is extremely rare in the Atlantic Ocean, but with the continued loosening of the summer ice in the passage ways through the central Arctic Islands, we can perhaps expect more to cross over to our side. It was the icing on the cake of an unforgetta­ble photo session with the eiders.

 ?? BRUCE MACTIVISH PHOTO ?? The black V under the chin of this common eider was the mark needed to prove it was the rare Pacific race of the common eider.
BRUCE MACTIVISH PHOTO The black V under the chin of this common eider was the mark needed to prove it was the rare Pacific race of the common eider.
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