I'm sure all of you know that there is a big ole' storm barrelling toward the eastern coast of the United States. The storm's name is Earl. Wouldn't it be just like a guy named Earl to ruin your life? No offense to the perfectly decent guys out there with that moniker. However, there is a reason that The Dixie Chicks wrote a song about killing a guy named Earl. Most Earls turn out to be bad news.
I am a weather watcher. It's not an accident that, to my knowledge, I'm the only person to photograph a tornado in progress in Maine. I was at the ready with the camera and glued to the events out the window when it erupted. The "Thanksgiving Twister", as we like to think of her, also imparted to me a tangible sense of how bad the weather can be and very suddenly. It marked me with a lasting impression of anxious urgency which is heightened immensely when they start squawking on the T.V. about the monster's advance across the ocean. As much as I hate the relentless chatter, I am drawn like a moth to a flame. I can't help but watch the computer tracts marching across the screen and the magnificent cloud photographs taken from space.
I have always been interested in the weather and what makes it. One of my favorite books is about identifying cloud formations as part of anticipating weather events. I'm a member of The Cloud Appreciation Society and proud of it. It fascinates me that the huge, rotating clouds coming across the Atlantic start out in the African desert. Earl will be carrying dust from the sands of the Sahara.
Of course, living on a rock sticking into the Atlantic ocean prompts me to be more than a passive observer. Not just a weather voyeur, watching from the comfort of my living room as events unfold and approach; I'm emotionally involved!. After all, there is nothing but ocean between my recliner and Morocco. When you look at a world globe with that in mind, it's sobering. I can almost feel the grit of those Saharan sands in my teeth as the storm gets closer. And closer, and closer. But, I'll wait until the wind whips up and the rain is slashing before I get serious about putting away any patio furniture. Though I'm a nervous wreck, I'm also a procrastinator. I work best under a ridiculous deadline.
With that in mind, I'm still printing and matting photographs for the Boothbay Regional Arts show on Saturday. Yep, art on the waterfront under a lovely, white tent. It ought to be interesting when Earl gets his teeth into that tent and our photographs ragging it all like a dog with a bone! We're Mainers in our camera club, so we are waiting it out to see what develops - no cancelling too early for us! Wish us luck (we do have a rain date of Sunday the 5th). Now, I must get back to finding the remote control and the weather channel - background music for my photo matting.
I spent some 'pier time' today as it is about fifty-five degrees and sunny. There is a brisk, off shore breeze, so I admit to donning more than my bathrobe. There were plenty of sea birds around, but few of them were close enough to photograph well. Exceptions were these Surf scoters. This chunky diving duck is called "Skunk-Head Coot," or "Skunk Head" because of the white patch on the back of the head. I don't usually see them in this close to the shore, but rather, out at sea in groups of a dozen or so. They are easy to identify from a distance as the white patch is very noticeable against the dark of the sea. Like the skunk mammal they get their name from, you don't have to see them up close to know it's them! These birds nest on freshwater lakes in Canada. The males circle around the females while on the water protecting a moving territory. When the chicks hatch, they hit the water really quickly. The mothers don't do much for them other than to protect them. Frequently, the little Skunk Heads get mixed up from one mother to another, so they may be raised by a mother other than their own. None of them seem to mind this. Surf scoters spend the winter on shallow marine shores like Maine, New Jersey and California where they can dive for crustaceans and mollusks. Spring has also brought out the other kind of skunk. The unmistakable smell of burning tires is riding heavily on the night air of late. Perhaps it's a good thing there was a stiff breeze down on the pier, in case those Skunk Heads sprayed me. Now that would be a bad birding adventure! Get out the tomato juice!
This Herring Gull stole the crab from the Skunk Head, then tore it limb from limb, breaking it down to a consumable morsel.Can you imagine the conversation between them?
And here we have a little "happy dance!"
Sick, really sick.
Thanks to David Allen Sibley -The Sibley Guide To Birds, Wikipedia and allaboutbirds.com for the information. Another terrific birding site I've discovered is 10000birds.com. It was very informative and I shall be referring to it again in the future.