We were confident we’d find them, we just weren’t sure on which sandbar or shoreline they’d be hanging out.
After an hour or so of checking out a group of islands off the coast of southwestern Connecticut, the shorebirds still eluded us. We had seen hundreds of long-tailed ducks, a great blue heron and a few great cormorants, but we hadn’t yet found the sturdy shorebirds that winter off the New England coast.
Having missed the Christmas Bird Count this year because of a Nor’easter, I joined a friend last weekend on his boat to see what birds were wintering on Long Island Sound. My friend does the Great Backyard Bird Count, which occurs each February, from his boat every year, but this was the first time I was joining him for this particular count.
It wasn’t much different than the December Christmas Bird Counts I’ve done from his boat, which is to say it was spectacular. Even though we never strayed too far from the coast, it seemed like a different world. The perspective gained from being on the water looking at the land, instead of vice versa, is difficult to describe.
There are birds out there, not terribly far from shore, that you’d never know are there unless you venture onto the water. Scoters, goldeneye, and northern harriers to name a few. There are shorebirds also, and yes, we eventually found them.
We pulled into a small bay and, after some careful observation, found a few shorebirds flying low along the shoreline on a sandbar. Drawing closer to the shorebirds, we discovered that those “few” shorebirds were actually dozens and dozens of them — a mixed bag of ruddy turnstone and dunlin.
The birds in their winter plumage blended almost perfectly with the rocks and sand upon which they stalked. Their movement gave them away and, after making the discovery, we watched them for several minutes. It always amazes me that a bird weighing just a few ounces can survive not only a New England winter, but a New England winter on the water with nothing to break the harsh winds.
Speaking of New England winters, the boat ride was cold, but bearable. The sheltered areas of water were fairly calm, but the open water was filled with deep swells, making looking through binoculars quite a chore. Just to start the ride we had to break through skim ice to get out of the boat club’s docks.
As always, the effort was well worth it. A few bufflehead and red-breasted mergansers, as well as dozens of long-tailed ducks, showed themselves in the harbor even before getting to the Sound.
According to my friend, who happens to track such things, the 525 long-tailed ducks we saw were the fourth-most counted in the United States and Canada during the annual Great Backyard Bird Count. The only areas topping our waters were spots in Michigan, Ontario and Alaska. We also had the top number of ruddy turnstones in the country.
I’m glad we ventured out to the water when we did to see the winter birds. Sure, winter is still upon us — the several inches of snow that fell recently proves that. Signs of spring, however, are popping up everywhere. Daffodils are poking out of the ground, I’ve heard northern cardinals singing their loud, sweet songs, and stores are stocking their shelves with seeds, soil and other garden supplies.
Winter. Spring. Either way, get out and enjoy it.

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