There was a clot of birders standing on Bayshore Road, about where I’d been told the male Bullocks’s Oriole had been hanging out. But I turned left instead, past the Beanery. Then right onto Sunset. Then left on Lighthouse. Past East Lake Drive and CMBO on toward…
The male Bullock’s Oriole, seen here in flight, is native to the American West. Photo by Michael O’Brien.
Is there anyone who hasn’t figure out that I was heading for Cape May Point State Park? And it would only be the date that might prompt you to conclude that my destination wasn’t the hawk watch platform.
Right. You don’t know the date, yet. OK. It was December 1. The first day after the official last day of the Cape May Hawk Watch. And the Hawk Watch Platform was my destination. I was betting that it would be empty and I won that bet.
Even though it was Saturday.
Even though it was getting on toward 9:00 a.m.-lift-off time for a late autumn flight.
Even though it was mostly sunny and the winds were blowing NNW 15-20 m.p.h. and this was the second day of winds out of the west and it had been a good flight the day before when the count was still in progress…
Empty.
I took the parking spot nearest the ramp (heck, there were only two other cars in the lot). Walked onto the platform and claimed a spot at the north end of the platform (where the wind is blocked by the planted pines). I started to bring my binoculars to my eyes but was distracted by the Northern Harrier that materialized right in front of me, then vaulted the platform—momentarily blocking the view of the immature Bald Eagle that was, now, about twenty feet over the place where Counter Jessie Barry had been on post just yesterday.
I like eagles, and I was prepared to watch it chase ducks around Bunker Pond until it quit the area, but this ambition was undermined by the adult female Merlin that passed over the platform (and under the eagle) then continued over the bay.
I’d been on the platform less than one minute. I’d already seen three great birds and had yet to lift my binoculars.
If you are a writer then you know that there are two ways this story can go from here. I’ve set readers up for a slap or a fall–meaning that:
A. This was the beginning of a great, great day and nah, nah, nah you missed it. Or.
B. That was all she wrote. Three birds and the flight collapsed and died.
I won’t keep you in suspense. Take away the nah, nah, nah and the answer is “A” it was a great flight but an “un” flight insofar as the Official Count had ended for the season and any birds seen today don’t count. Over the course of the next two hours (i.e. 9:00-11:00 a.m.) I tallied.
Five Bald Eagles (2 imm., 2 adults, 1 subadult), 4 Northern Harrier, 7 Sharp-shinned Hawks, 7 (or 6) Cooper’s Hawks*, 2 (or 3) Northern Goshawk **, 12 Red-tailed Hawk, 3 Red-shouldered Hawks, one Merlin and one cheat Peregrine Falcon***.
*One of the Cooper’s Hawks was killed so I’m not sure whether to count it.
**The Northern Goshawk that killed the Cooper’s Hawk might have been one of the two earlier birds so I’m not sure whether to count it, either.
***The Peregrine was seen from the beach as we went down to try and find the Coop and Gos which disappeared behind the dunes. I didn’t see it from the Hawk Watch Platform so it’s probably not countable.
A rare scene in Cape May—a vacant Hawk Watch platform is blanketed in 3 inches of snow after a storm. Photo by Jason Guerard.
We never did find the Gos. But we think that the thing the Black-backed Gulls were working over out in the bay was the defunct Cooper’s.
Did I say we? Yes, we. The trio, a quorum, consisted of Carol Hughes who came down for the oriole and stopped by the platform to see what was around and a guy from Morristown who was looking for the Cave Swallows.
By the way there were two swallows. In addition to migrating flocks of icterids, robins, pipits, and a flock of Snow Buntings that were visible from the platform but way down the beach.
So what’s my point? Simple. Just because the official hawk count ends doesn’t mean raptor migration shuts down for the season. The official count period was established before anyone realized that hawk migration runs through December. There is also some evidence that hawk migration may be running later for some species than thirty years ago (when the count started).
I’ve seen Northern Harriers migrating as late as January 1.
I’ve been treated to great hawk migrations during the Cape May Christmas Bird Count (with scores of Red-tailed and Red-shouldered Hawks tallied as well as Golden Eagle.)
Why don’t we keep counting into December? Because it would skew the data.
Why don’t more hawk watchers come down to Cape May when the hawk watching can be so good?
I don’t know. Might be the Bullock’s Oriole.