Surfer dudes at LBI: finding scoters at Barnegat Light

Birders often find themselves taking a counter-intuitive approach to normal human instinct, at least in terms of where to hang out. Take, for instance, the shore. Most people would head to Long Beach Island in the summertime, when the warm sun and inviting waves beckon visitors from far and wide for relief from seasonal humidity.

No longboard needed: the surf scoter

Conversely, virtually the only people you'll find on LBI's shores in the dead of winter are fishing enthusiasts and birders looking to spot and identify waterfowl.

We humans may think it's too cold to be in the water, but for the ducks, loons and various shorebirds who spend their breeding seasons in the upper reaches of Canada, New Jersey may just as well be Florida.

Some really colorful and fun waterfowl especially like the area just off the jetty at Barnegat Light, on the northern end of LBI. So much so, that it's a reliable spot to get one's annual look at a couple of species, most notably harlequin ducks. Ivan's been making a regular wintertime trip there; I've tagged along for the past few years, including this past Sunday.

While they're pretty much guaranteed to be there in January, getting to the ducks takes some doing. If you've been to Barnegat Light State Park, you'll remember the concrete walkway that extends southeast of the lighthouse. To see the more interesting waterfowl, you'll need to walk to the end of that path, climb under the railing and continue along the bare rip-rap jetty. Navigating those boulders is somewhat like the old video game Frogger, but often with stiff gusts of wind wreaking havoc with your balance as you listen to the sea water rushing through the cracks as waves pound the rock.

Part of the thrill is that there's always potential for a bonus beyond the harlequins. Last year, we'd been treated to a good view of a seal, as well as a surprising fly-by from a brown pelican. The not-knowing is a powerful motivator to keep stepping one's way farther down the jetty, carefully avoiding the crevices between the rocks.

The harlequins didn't take long to find, their distinctive colors showing beautifully as they swam alongside the riprap. Then there was another duck I didn't quite recognize. Maybe I'd seen one before, but his large bill looked like some kind of funky road construction camouflage, with a splash of bright orange along with white and black markings. His body was mostly black, though it had white spots on its face and neck and orange legs to match its bill.

"Surf scoter," Ivan observed, noting that we'd seen them through the viewing scope on another birding foray. Ah, that's it: while I'd gotten a distant look before, this one was so close I could study and enjoy every bit of that unique looking, colorful face. I soon noticed another similar bird, all black with an orange bill -- the black scoter. While Ivan made his way farther down the jetty to find purple sandpipers, I carefully sat down atop the rip rap to visit with my new avian friends a bit more, relishing an opportunity that probably won't come again very quickly.

And while we didn't get the pelican or razorbills we'd been delighted to see last year, another rare winter visitor was around. At least one snowy owl has been reported at Barnegat Light on and off since November, so when another birder reminded us it was there, we couldn't help but take a look. It was seen easily enough from the top of the jetty, though a couple hundred feet away. Sitting calmly in the dunes, among the browned beach grass, the owl looked like a mound of snow that had yet to melt in the relative warmth of the day. He was the third we'd seen that day, after spotting two at Forsythe NWR, and the seventh of the season.

Yes, we have no Dracula birds... but how about a pelican?

It seems that if you want to find harlequin ducks in New Jersey, you have to work for them.

Traditionally, it's a visit to Barnegat Light -- head to the jetty in the state park and walk southward along the riprap that extends beyond the cement walk. It's like a giant video game, forcing you to step carefully from boulder to boulder without falling into the crevices between. I'm a bit more cautious than Ivan when doing this, which you can see from this photo (he's that spot on the distant right, carrying a scope on tripod).

Word is that the riprap-loving harlequins prefer to stay toward the south end of the jetty, requiring the arduous, cautious hike, but I'm not totally buying it. I first saw them several years ago (pre-Ivan) right at the bend in the cement walk, not all that far from the lighthouse. I remember thinking how beautiful and different they were from the standard mallard (not that I don't love the look of mallards...), and that akin to wood ducks, they look like something from a very easy paint-by-number kit.

A male harlequin duck. See what I mean?

Regardless, the harlequins haven't been in 'my' spot any of the times Ivan and I have gone to see them, so it's meant a trip down the jetty. Well, I go for a bit and then hop down to the sand on the land side, heading back up when something interesting comes along.

This time the trip looked promising: we'd already seen a nice group of oystercatchers along a distant sandbar, with a bonus seal thrown in for good measure. With any luck we'd also locate great cormorants, which have been frustratingly absent from our trips so far in 2013. Only the hike down the cement walk, over/through the railing and atop the riprap would settle it.

And.... yes. The harlequins were as reliable as ever, swimming busily along the jetty, some actually leaving the water to perch on the rocks. A few loons swam about, as did one constantly-diving razorbill, probably the closest avian visitor New Jersey has to the penguin. But... the cormorants were totally absent. What gives? Perhaps with their Dracula-like wing drying posture, they're in witness protection? At the very least, they're playing a pretty frustrating game of hide-and-seek with us.

Still, when nature denies, she inevitably provides a pretty cool substitute. As we continued our scan, a brown pelican glided north over the inlet at about eye level, unmistakable in size and silhouette. A pelican? Now? In New Jersey? Given everything we've seen visit the state over the past year, a late-staying pelican seems like par for the course. One more bird for my state list, and a very early addition for 2013.

Ducks, Barnegat Lighthouse and the Civil War

"What are three things that have never been in my kitchen?" (Apologies to Alex Trebek and legions of Cheers fans. Sorry, couldn't help it.)

The cold weather brings duck season with it. No, I don't mean the Looney Tunes/Merrie Melodies kind of duck season, wabbit season, Elmer season. I mean the "Wow, did you ever know that so many kinds of ducks come to New Jersey?"

I first discovered this on a solo winter trip to Long Beach Island several years ago. Walking on the jetty by the lighthouse, I noticed some beautiful black, white, gray and rust-colored ducks congregating in the waters next to the rocks. Their colors seemed to be applied in blocks, much as one might work a paint-by-numbers portrait. I didn't know at the time, but harlequin ducks can often be found there in the winter, right along the rip-rap that protects the lighthouse property from eroding into the bay. They're a nice diversion from the mallards we're all familiar with.

Ivan and I visited Barnegat Light State Park last January to see these and other ducks, but before we got to the jetty, he wanted to stop and pay his respects to George Meade. Huh?

Turns out that the designer of the Barnegat Lighthouse is none other than the man who led the Army of the Potomac to victory at Gettysburg and several other Civil War campaigns. Meade was both an army officer and civil engineer who specialized in coastal construction. It was logical, then, that he was the one who designed the successor to the original 40-foot Barnegat light, which had been shoddily built in 1835.

Meade's replacement stands a majestic 172 feet, second in height to only Cape Hatteras light on the entire east coast. He used an innovative cylinder-inside-cone design that provides moisture-blocking insulation between the tower's inner and outer walls. While the construction has held strong since the light was first illuminated in 1859, the biggest threat to the tower is erosion to the north end of Long Beach Island, where it stands. That's why the rip rap is there, creating a harlequin-friendly environment not far away.

Meade also designed Cape May and Absecon Lights, both of which tower around the 170 foot mark. Depending on who you talk to, you'll hear differing opinions on which is tallest, or which should be considered most challenging in number of interior steps, but all have largely withstood the test of time. To my knowledge, Barnegat is the only light that commemorates Meade with a bust or plaque. Personally, I think the best homage to him is to climb to the top of his creation, look out to sea and imagine all of the mariners whom it guided safely to port.