On the other hand, we were a level-headed bunch, serious but grounded, and we had all experienced a wonderful week in Newfoundland. We weren't going to be devastated if we missed him. That would be the real tragedy, were someone to let one big miss overshadow an otherwise amazing trip. But the trip wasn't over yet.
We began, as usual, at Quidi Vidi Lake, but discovered once again that the ice cover, so beneficial to our gull-watching on Day 1, had receded even further. We spread the cars out and scanned as many gull congregations as we could find in the area, but eventually, we left off the search. We would venture off to some new locations now to mix up the day, to return with a vengeance in the afternoon.
Dave Brown suggested we all drive to nearby Cape Spear, considered the easternmost point in North America. It would be a scenic stop, showcasing the oldest surviving lighthouse in Newfoundland, and along the way we would be passing through more beautiful boreal forest habitat. There's just something about the boreal forest...so pristine, so far removed from the deciduous forests we're used to here in New England. The boreal just forest seems...purer, cleaner, quieter. It's one of my favorite habitats in the country.
So as we drove along some remote stretches of road through the spruce and fir forests, any time Dave spotted something from the lead car, we were all itching to hop out and explore. The air was crisp and the sky was sunny and blue for the first time since we had arrived. It was the kind of morning that made you thankful you had woken up at 4:30 a.m.
We stopped and strolled around several times. Boreal Chickadees, ever curious, popped in and out of sight. Large flocks of Pine Siskins wheeled overhead, wheezing and chirping and then descending en masse upon a single spruce, disappearing among the needles. A Red-breasted Nuthatch intoned his nasal call from the top of a fir. And periodically, some larger finches would swoop past us over the road, large enough for us to recognize them as Pine Grosbeaks. Several landed on a treetop long enough for us to retreive our scopes from the cars, and continued to feed there for a good ten minutes. A few people enjoyed their life looks at both male and female Pine Grosbeaks prying the seeds from the highest cones they could find.
We continued on and arrived at Cape Spear. What a cool distinction, to be able to boast the easternmost point in North America! It's a breathtaking coastal landmark. You can see how it just peeks out to the east on the map below:
The easternmost point in North America (not including Greenland or Alaska)
Cape Spear also has the oldest surviving lighthouse in all of Newfoundland and Labrador, dating back to 1836. I was captured by the scenery as soon as I stepped out of the car.
No Yellow-legged Gulls here...
But there are gulls here! Which one has yellow legs?
Maybe he's hiding in the bushes?
Because my lens was pointed at the sea, I was oblivious to what was flying by right over my head. Thankfully, Christine yelled over to me, "Do you see the Bald Eagle up there?" Now I did.
Immature Bald Eagle...He's got yellow legs! Does that count?
Always impressive
I hope he's not responsible for the missing gull...
Once the Bald Eagle flew off, I turned back to the sea and the surrounding scenery.
Remember Monty Python's "How Not To Be Seen"?
Everyone else had already walked over to the eastern overlook, and I couldn't miss my chance, so I hurried over. Down a short walkway to a dead end atop the rocky cliffs, this sign welcomed me:
As well as this sign:
Higher up on the hill stood the oldest surviving lighthouse in Newfoundland. A newer, more modern lighthouse had also been constructed here. I didn't get a shot of the old lighthouse...we were still on the move...but I did take a quick b&w photo of the new lighthouse:
We weren't going to let too much time pass by without returning and at least checking the gull hotspots. We would be staying close to Quidi Vidi and environs for the rest of the day. But every stop yielded the same negative result. So Dave took us to another special spot nearby, a quiet river tucked away in a suburban area. We walked down a treacherous, icy flight of stone steps to reach the riverbed, and soon heard a familiar peeping sound. It was the call of a Green-winged Teal. And after crouching under branches and slurping through the thick, wet mud, we found the teal, male and female. But...
Something's different here...
Green speculum...check.
It wasn't any ordinary Green-winged Teal. That's a Eurasian Green-winged Teal, a "Common Teal"! The vertical white bar at the side of the chest is missing...and you can see those bold white lines on the face. He was still on the opposite bank from me. I hoped he might pop into the river and swim a bit closer, so I could admire some of his other distinguishing marks. A few females were present, already in the water:
Are teal not the cutest ducks?
Are these female teal American or Eurasian?
Hmmm, they both sport a dark patch across the cheek...Let's just let this one go.
The male did eventually join the females in the river, and he provided us with the exciting opportunity to scrutinize him more closely:
See that pale horizontal stripe running down the side? And that buffy area to the right of the vertical black bar near his back end? I didn't notice that until I reviewed the photographs later.
We almost had all our ducks in a row...
Looking even more closely, you can see other, subtler distinguishnig characteristics. Check out the gray sides on the male below:
It's not just a dark gray wash...You can actually make out the vermiculations on the sides, just as we observed on the Lesser Scaup's back the day before! The pattern is much starker, with far more contrast than on the sides of an American Green-winged Teal. And look at the coloration on the tertials below, those long, loose gray feathers at the back that drape over the tail:
Those tertials are also more contrastingly marked than the same feathers on an American Green-winged Teal.
Gorgeous, no matter where he's from.
We left the teal, and now, there was nothing left but to return to the spot where we had begun our search in earnest three days prior.
We spent the rest of the day looking for the Yellow-legged Gull. Bill wisely split our team up, and while one car went to survey the dump, my car searched the golf course and a field near the lake. We found enormous congregations of gulls...There were over 10,000 at the dump alone. And amidst the Herring, Glaucous, and Iceland Gulls, we did pick out a few Lesser Black-backed Gulls showcasing their yellow legs...but no Yellow-legged Gulls. Dave Brown rejoined us, and immediately pointed out a gull that appeared to him to be a European Herring Gull. He had seen this individual before, and had conferenced previously with some European gullers to confirm his suspicion. It was difficult for the uninitiated to descry any difference between this first winter bird and the other young Herring Gulls:
It's the gray mottled gull sitting down in the center.
Wow. I had to get out my scope to see what Dave was seeing...And did I see anything unusual? Whew. Perhaps the wing markings looked slightly more...crisp? But it was nothing diagnostic, certainly nothing I could seize upon without question. And to pick this guy out of a flock of hundreds? Dave's trained eye really hones in on the most minute details.
Still sitting, just to the right of the orange pole and a first-year Great Black-backed Gull.
Hmmm...Something got their attention!
Let's zoom in a bit and take a closer look.
Well, unfortunately, I eventually placed my camera back in the trunk, so when the gulls all flushed, and Dave called out, "Yup, that's a European Herring Gull," I missed my opportunity to take a flight shot. Through my binoculars, I was able to make out the narrow tail band and contrasty white rump. More importantly, I learned an invaluable lesson for a beginning photographer...Never be without your camera!
And that was it. We returned to the hotel for a convivial evening of eating, drinking, and reminiscing. As luck would have it, we were able to get a table near the bar, out of earshot of the irrepressible but well-intentioned piano player. We relaxed, pored over our bird lists, considered our favorite birds of the trip, and began to plan our return to Newfoundland. We had missed the Yellow-legged Gull, but no one could deny what an amazing and life-changing trip this had been. I had fallen in love with the land and its birdlife. Dave Brown was an incredible guide and a fun guy to bird with for the week! And Bill, as always, did a fantastic job organizing and leading our adventure. Most, if not all of us, are planning a return trip next winter. If there's anything good that comes out of missing a big target, it's the ardent, unsquelchable desire to do it all over again, as soon as possible.
My flight home was quick and painless.
Oh, I forgot one thing. Just before dinner, that final evening, my car, Car 3, Dave, Christine, Mary, and I, drove up to the top of Signal Hill, overlooking St. John's. It was there that Guglielmo Marconi set up a wireless station and received the first transatlantic wireless transmission in 1901. But I was more interested in breathing in the city and harbor below for the last time.
Well...not for the last time.
