The Bird Cliffs at Cape St. Mary's

When we left Gros Morne, we had an all day drive to nearly the opposite end of Newfoundland.  Three years ago, I had grudgingly accepted Pam's suggestion to make a long drive from Bonavista to the bird cliffs at Cape St. Mary's.  We arrived on a perfect day with the sun and the wind aligning to deliver a steady stream of Northern Gannets landing sometimes only 40 feet away. They were beautifully illuminated in warm sunlight, and the strong wind held their landing speed down to where they just hovered in front of us. This photo from 2014 tells the viewer why we returned in 2017.

Northern Gannets are not a small bird.  They are 3 feet long and sport a 6-foot wingspan.  They are graceful flyers with a handsome head featuring a blush of color on the throat.  


There are reportedly in excess of 25,000 Northern Gannets plus thousands of Kittiwakes and Murres on the bird cliffs at Cape St. Mary's.  The gannets nest densely on the less vertical parts with the other birds at lower levels on very narrow ledges. It is about a 1-1/2 mile trail from the visitor center to the prime viewing area.  You hear them long before you get there. They are not, however, capable of song. It is best described as cacophony.  There is no way that many birds would ever synchronize their vocalization, and they offer no melody to make that possible.

There is a lot of flying from the colony as one of each pair is usually away at sea fishing for the hungry chick. A closer look suggests how dense the arrangements are.  There is a lot of squabbling.

There is a good half hour walking path to see the colony; once there you are on a narrow promontory that is very close on both sides to nesting birds.  

Newfoundland in summer is nearly synonymous with fog, so we scheduled three full days with the hope that one of those days would be clear, and the wind and sun direction acceptable. The first full day confirmed my expectation. Though only a stone's throw from a high a rock pinnacle packed with birds, the fog offered observation but limited photos.

I had a plan for fog.  Birder sightings for Cape St. Mary's highlighted Horned Larks around the visitor center.  So, fog merely shifted my attention.  Watching Horned Larks, I could see two things.  First there were juveniles out of the nest and foraging, and there were also adults collecting many insects in their beaks. Some were still feeding young in the nest. Second, I realized that the best way was to pick a spot with good openings, and let them come to me. It proved fruitful.

People passing me would ask what I was doing. My answer elicited no interest in something as small as a lark. But to me, it was pretty exciting to have one work close to me and take a nice perch on a rock.  Just wish I could have been there when they were doing mating displays.

On our last full day, the afternoon offered an ideal sun and wind combination.  For two hours, the action was intense as the Northern Gannets approached like aircraft lining up for a runway.  Here you can see two birds on parallel runway approaches, just like at Kennedy Airport.

Of course, there were hundreds of runways available; I had to pick just a few landing spots and recognize when a bird was on one of those. At the end, I was drained but happy.

To the observer, the landing spot is pretty small as the bird glides over dozens of other nests with each nest ready to jab a beak at the offender.

When the returning partner arrives there is a warm welcome including some wing flapping and billing plus some head bobs.  It only take a few minutes for the waiting partner to head out to sea. 

In early August, the chicks are mostly big blobs of down with a few feathers beginning to show.

The nest is just some collected seaweed or grass on hard rock.  I was pretty lucky to actually catch a shot of one bird bringing a fresh supply in.  When I looked at some other nests, I realized it was quickly being soiled by the chicks. Sometimes the chicks were not the clean white fluff ball you see above.

We thoroughly enjoyed our time at Cape St. Mary's. Our cottage in nearby Branch looked out on a harbor with many fishing boats.  On an evening walk down to the boats, I met a local woman with extensive bird knowledge. 

We found that having a kitchen made for easier timing when early or late conditions were best for photography or a sightseeing excursion.

The next morning, we had an unhurried departure towards the return ferry in Argentia.  Naturally, it was foggy. On the way, we pulled off the highway at Gooseberry Beach and found a quiet beach with a crooked piece of driftwood. Two local ladies walking the beach saw our New York plates, and we had a nice conversation combining bits about Newfoundland and New York.  People are so friendly there, just like home.

The return ferry to Nova Scotia was another huge ship, and this time our car was not in the bowels of the ship.  We had a good nights rest with the muffled sound of the ship's foghorn often reaching our cabin.   Next, it was on to a stop in Maine for a beautiful garden on Mt. Desert Island.

Paul

Atlantic Puffins

Few birds attract the fascination like Atlantic Puffins. These seabirds' appearance is endearing.  They are only seen readily when they come to isolated islands to nest in late spring.  Once fledged, they disappear for years until ready to join the nesting cycle. We've sponsored a pair of puffins through the Lab of Ornithology for several years, and read each year's report on the success of our birds. So, we were intent to find some puffins on this trip, even though it is late, and we were likely to only see the fledglings.

While we saw a few puffins around the Bonavista lighthouse, they were nesting on the hidden side of the island near the light.  The advice to us was to go to nearby Elliston, billed as the root cellar capital.  That's a new one.

So, puffins like a rocky island with some turf to burrow in. The sites look like this one a few miles from Elliston. But, unlike this island, the one in Elliston is separated from land by a very narrow channel.

Arriving at the location, we spotted the first of many root cellars. They dotted the hills, indicating where homes once stood. Inside the outer door is a passage to a second door protecting the stored veggies from the hard winter's cold. The abandoned cellars are a testament to both the decline of the traditional cod fishery and to the limited growing season in Newfoundland.  Only root crops are practical in the garden.  

The town of Elliston has an annual puffin festival and welcomes puffin watchers in good style. A local resident welcomed us and briefed us on the best path and safety.  It ended up being an easy 10 minute walk towards the sea and across a narrow neck of land. This is pretty nice.  A lot of puffin sites require a boat ride and a wet landing from a bouncing tender.

So, what did we find?  Joining three pro photographers on a grassy knoll, we were maybe 150 feet from a gang of juvenile Atlantic Puffins. Their burrows were easily spotted.

There seemed to a cycle among many of the birds wherein they would gather along the edge of the  island and launch into flight from there.

So, I just isolated on those birds and waited to see the wingtips move.  It worked pretty well.

The folks at Elliston were really accommodating. Well, truthfully that was true for everyone we met during our nine days in Newfoundland.  Here, they even provided a nice relaxing puffin chair to rest in after the hike back from seeing the birds. Very creative, eh?

Now, allow me to provide some details for the photographers about these birds-in-flight photos. I used a Nikon Series 1 mirrorless V2 camera with the FT1 adapter attached to a Nikon 70-200mm f/2.8 lens. I shot at 15 frames per second! The exposures  were 1/1000 second at  f/8, ISO 800.  At 200 mm, the equivalent focal length in a 35 mm DSLR is 540 mm. This rig weighs about 4 pounds and is easily hand-held.  An equivalent full frame 35 mm camera, tripod and telephoto lens weighs over 22 pounds. I would never have carried the 22 pound rig onto an aircraft, nor to some of the locations where I used the Nikon V2. I am sold on the benefits of this little camera for travel.

Paul Schmitt

Newfoundland Seabirds- Northern Gannets

August is the end of the nesting season for seabirds in Newfoundland, so most species are gone.  Two spectacular birds are still present - Northern Gannets and Atlantic Puffins. Our first outing for seabirds was a long drive from Heart's Delight down the Avalon Peninsula to Cape St. Mary's where we were to walk 1.6 kilometers out to the Bird Rock. As you can see at right, the trail goes out a neck of land that faces a huge lump of rock. On it is a mass of white dots, all nesting birds.  Visitors are to stay within the red lines, or else.

Along the way we passed free-range sheep that were completely habituated to people. Some of the sheep were even down on the steepest slopes of the mountain, presumably where the grass is greenest. But, we were more interested in seeing Northern Gannets.







As we hiked out the trail, Bird Rock (or many bird rocks)  came into view. From sea level up to the top are distinct zones where different bird species nest. It begins with Cormorants at the bottom and tops out with Northern Gannets.

 

At the top left in the green areas are some oblong white objects. Sheep. Sure-footed sheep I presume.

As we reached Bird Rock, we came upon a rock crown nearly covered with Gannets.  They  have lovely coloration.

Opposite the above rock crown was another steep slope which was more interesting. The birds would fly in from the seaside directly over our heads and make a 180 turn for a landing into the wind. It was just like an airplane approach.  The  visitor center was visible in the distance as this Gannet lowered flaps for a landing.

We became fascinated with the beauty of these large, graceful flyers.

As the bird approached its nesting area, the strong up-slope let it virtually hover in place and gently settle down the steep slope to an exact spot. We'd never seen this before.  My photography evolved from birds-in-flight to birds-in-stasis.

The object of all this activity is the nest, and raising young.  There were still some late hatching chicks present, and even a few were still downy white as below.  It is questionable if this chick can grow fast enough to be ready for winter.

Now, a graceful landing is not always paired with a graceful launch, so some attention was paid to observing the exit. It was, to some surprise, efficient and graceful.  Perhaps it is easier when the launching pad is 100 meters or more above the sea.

After such success, the drive did not seem quite so long.

Two days later, we found some juvenile Atlantic Puffins.  That will be the next installment.

Paul Schmitt

The Stormy Side of Newfoundland

One of my long-held wishes has been to be on a rocky seacoast when a large storm passes offshore. Our recent trip to Newfoundland began with Hurricane Cristobal somewhere off the middle Atlantic coast of the US.  Over the first two days, the weather in St. John's turned very windy, and misty rain settled in.  On the third day, the morning was rainy and very windy, but just after noontime, the clouds lifted and the rain ceased.  We headed for Signal Hill overlooking the harbor entrance.  The Fort Amherst lighthouse across the Narrows was a dramatic scene.

The wind was certainly in excess of 40 miles per hour on the promontory.  Pretty nice view from overhead, but it was now time to find some exposed beaches where we could get down to sea level. Our next stop was Middle Cove. 

We found that we had lots of company on the same mission to see the waves. Soon afterwards, the woman below had to retreat up the beach to avoid a larger swell that came ashore.

The biggest limitation to such a close approach was the salt that would get on the camera lens and body. (I was nestled beside a large boulder using it to steady my camera.)

From there we went further up the coastal road to Torby Bight. Each rocky shore creates its own visual cacophony.  The power of the waves was best presented, for me, in a simple black and white form.  Color seems to distract from the message of the wave's powerful strike on the shore.

Our final stop was at Flat Rock Cove.  There, long inclined shelves of rock face into the oncoming seas to  create a huge swelling of the waves.  Note the two small boats moored out in the onrushing seas. They often disappeared behind huge breaking waves.

We returned to our little house perched over the Narrows with some great memories.

Paul