The sun is rising due east, behind the neighboring houses, rather than toward the southeast as it does in January, I notice. One of the peculiar delights of this south-facing beach is that we can watch both sunrise and sunset over the ocean; it rises straight out of the water towards the southeast and sets just beyond Oceana Pier toward the southwest. Another change I notice this time of year (aside from the outdoor swimming pool being open and enthusiastically populated) is that, when I return to the dune-top deck for the second time with my cup of coffee, it is still hot when I arrive. Sometimes in January it has gotten cold during the quarter-mile walk out to my frosty little seat.
Martha did not waste any time identifying events we might want to attend this week, starting with a 9:00 a.m. birdwatching walk at Fort Macon State Park; we have even packed our binoculars. It is already warming up on this first day of Fall, and I have applied insect repellent against the gnats, which are non-existent in January. Park Superintendent Randy Newman is waiting for us and he remembers us from programs we have attended in the past. Randy is a kind of "bird whisperer" - sometimes he will actually whistle and coo, calling birds out of the foliage. He observes these birds all year round and knows them well; his enthusiasm is contagious.
In no time we spot the ubiquitous mockingbird, which Randy tells us usually repeats his song three times, as opposed to the brown thrasher (twice) and the catbird (once). He sees a scarlet tanager, too, and I am quick enough to follow his sudden finger-point. We walk down onto the beach and watch some seabirds, sandpipers and gulls; Randy tells us he has seen some gulls making nests on the rooftops of Staples and Food Lion, which have tile roofs.
These brown pelicans soar into view right on schedule. We see laughing gulls, too, immature ones whose heads are not yet distinctly black. Randy spots what he thinks may be a frigate gull, too, though it is too far away to be sure; these remarkable birds can remain aloft for months, riding the air currents for tremendous distances. He ends up checking off 26 birds on the list in the little pamphlet he has distributed, whereas most of us are lucky to check off a dozen.
Randy despairs, as he usually does, that there was not very much activity this morning, although we thought the Fort was bustling with birds. "But there's always something to see!" he says, a phrase that I love to use these days.
There's always something to hear, too! After an afternoon walk on the beach, we ate dinner and watched the sun go down. At 9:00 p.m., Martha said she thought she heard something, perhaps someone's ring-tone out on the walkway. We opened the doors and discovered that somebody was standing out in the darkness by the ocean, playing the bagpipes. Bagpipes are not designed to be played indoors, and standing on an ocean shore (or perhaps on a Scottish moor) must be the best places to wail ghostly melodies out into the night. The piper went through several familiar tunes, including Highland Cathedral, one of our favorites. After he had finished, I could see him walking in semi-darkness down the walkway into our building, and as he passed under the balcony, I applauded. "Enjoyed that!" He doffed a red cap and disappeared inside without speaking.
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