Trying My Hand (Well, Eyes) At Seawatching

You thought flitty warblers were challenging.  You thought little brown sparrows were challenging.  You thought sandpipers and gulls were challenging.  And then you tried seabirding and realized... you haven't really been challenged at all yet!!

Or was that just me?

Last November, I spent a few days peering through the spotting scope over Monterey Bay from famed seawatch spot, Point Pinos.  And I was hooked.  There, behind a large objective lens, I met shearwaters and fulmars for the first time, magnified somewhere between 20 and 60 times.  There is something inexplicably mesmerizing about gazing (for hours) out over the ocean, waiting and watching to see what turns up!

This year, I returned to the same spot to continue my education, and attempted to make the acquaintance of a few more members of that most elusive and mysterious group of birds known collectively as "seabirds."

Seabirding last year, in November 2020... while holding a cup of tea, apparently (?). 
Don't let the sunny blue sky fool you: It is cold (pretty much all the time) on California's central coast!!

While gulls and terns may certainly be classified as "seabirds," the term really applies to those species that are less likely to be seen from land, species that generally come ashore only to breed and typically nest on remote islands, and rugged, wave-dashed rocks and cliffs.  This group of birds, little-known to the average birder, is practically unheard of to the non-birder.  But for your typical land-based birder, enticing names of unfamiliar seabirds, like shearwater and storm-petrel, alcid and albatross, jeager and skua, are rich with potential, sending shivers of excitement up the spine at the prospect of just a glimpse!

Of course, the best way to see and study seabirds is to meet them in their natural habitat: the open ocean (or dangerous-looking rocky sea cliffs).  For those of us who suffer from violent seasickness and/or lack of funding to board sea-going vessels regularly, land-based seabirding is the next best thing.  Around the continent, there are a handful of key seawatching sites, points of land that, due to happy coincidences of geography and weather patterns, allow birders with spotting scopes to enjoy decent (albeit fleeting) looks at otherwise distant and inaccessible birds.

Elevated headlands provide ideal vantage points: the farther they stick out into the water, the better!  Point Pinos, at the southwestern tip of Monterey Bay, is an ideal location, as birds following the coastline on their way out of the large bay fly right past the Point.  Prevailing northwest winds help the situation by pushing seabirds closer to the spit of land, and I have heard, though not experienced, that crazy-stormy days can be best for birding at Point Pinos, as strong winds push all kinds of neat and otherwise rare birds within scoping distance of shore.

The incomparably beautiful view (I'm only a little biased!) from the Point Pinos seawatch spot.

For the past several years, the Monterey Audubon Society has hired a professional birder to man the official Point Pinos seawatch spot, from dawn to dusk for six weeks, from the beginning of November to mid-December.  A task that is both physically and mentally demanding, the job of professional seawatcher requires a highly specialized, and highly advanced, skill-set.  But the data collected is extremely valuable, especially in the face of our changing climate.

Last week, I was fortunate enough to meet this year's official seawatch guy, Liam Waters, who kindly invited me (a total newbie) to set up my scope next to him and, literally, watch and learn.

While he saw many more species than I did over the course of the two days I spent on the Point, and accurately identified far more tiny flying specks than I may ever be able to, I was delighted by the birds I was able to spot, and infinitely grateful for the excellent learning opportunity!  (Maybe someday I'll be that good at seabirding!  I can only hope!)

Now, the question you've been dying to have answered: What, exactly, is out there, winging past above the great blue and bobbing along on the surface of the deep?

The birds can be broken down into roughly three groups: those seen near the shore, those visible relatively close off-shore, and those that stay way, way out over the open ocean (visible from land only as those tiny flying specks I mentioned).

Near the shore...

Let's start with gulls.  Winter at Point Pinos is great for gulls, many species of which can be seen very near (or on) the shore.  (Some brazen shore-dwelling Western Gulls will try to steal your lunch.  You have been warned!)  Western, California, and Heermann's Gulls are the most numerous, followed by Short-billed Gulls (formerly Mew Gulls), Glaucous-winged Gulls, Herring Gulls, and the occasional Ring-billed Gull.  Much farther out over the water, look for Bonaparte's Gulls and Black-legged Kittiwakes; striking Sabine's Gulls pass through on migration as well.

Western Gull (Point Pinos)

Familiar characters of nearshore rocks and waters, cormorants and pelicans are present year-round.  Most numerous are coastal Brandt's Cormorants, which hang out in large flocks on rocks just offshore and fly past in long lines, often low over the water following the coastline.  Smaller, more slender Pelagic Cormorants are present in large numbers as well, but this species doesn't form large flocks, and these birds are typically seen singly or in pairs.  Though more likely to be seen inland, Double-crested Cormorants spend time around the Point in small numbers as well.  

Brandt's Cormorants (Point Pinos)

Brown Pelicans, gliding past in large squadrons and loafing on rocks, lend a stately air to the nearshore avifauna of the Point.  These guys can't possibly be missed!

Brown Pelicans (Monterey)

Visible relatively close-ish off shore...

You'll need to pull out the spotting scope - or at the very least, good binoculars - to get decent looks at this next group of birds, the moderately-distant birds.  

Three species of loons are common from Point Pinos: Pacific, Common and Red-throated, with Pacific Loons (which occur in the tens of thousands during their migration!) being the most numerous.  

Common Loon (Moss Landing harbor)

Seaducks are easily spotted from land, including three species of scoters - although Surf Scoters are by far the most common and numerous.  Red-breasted Mergansers are out there as well, along with a smattering of other ducks thrown in here and there.

Male Surf Scoter (Moss Landing Harbor)

The group known as the alcids (which are basically miniature flying penguins of the Northern hemisphere) includes murres, murrelets, auklets, guillemots and, everyone's favorite, puffins!  Commonly seen from Point Pinos, buzzing by on rapid wingbeats out over the Bay, are Common Murres and Rhinocerous Auklets.  Small Cassin's Auklets and Ancient Murrelets are also present in significant numbers, while Tufted Puffins, Marbled Murrelets and a few others make occasional appearances.  Pigeon Guillemots seem to be more common in the spring and summer months.

Common Murre (Moss Landing harbor)

Way the heck out there...

Bring along your patience, set up the spotting scope for the day, and see what you can find, soaring far, far out above the distant rolling waves and whitecaps.  Peering waaaay out to sea will reveal the most intriguing birds, true seabirds belonging to the group known as the tubenoses.  (And the only photos of  these guys that I have... are of museum specimens from the excellent collection at the Pacific Grove Museum of Natural History!  Hopefully someday I will remedy that!)

The collection of seabirds at the Pacific Grove Museum of Natural History.  
Counterclockwise from upper left: Black-footed Albatross, Laysan Albatross, Buller's Shearwater, Black-vented Shearwater, Short-tailed Shearwater, Sooty Shearwater, Brown Pelican, Pink-footed Shearwater, Northern Fulmar, American White Pelican, Parasitic Jaeger.  (Tiny storm-petrels are in the upper right)

Tubenoses get their name from a unique physiological feature, a set of tubes or enclosed nasal passages that sit atop their bills.  These highly specialized tubular nasal passages allow exclusively ocean-dwelling seabirds to make the most of their life on the open seas, utilizing an ecological niche that would be inhospitable without a specific set of adaptations.  A number of sea-going birds, including gulls, terns, grebes, loons and seaducks, have a pair of salt glands (located near their eyes) that help the kidneys draw excess salts from the bloodstream, which allows the birds to drink seawater without dehydrating.  The "tubes" of the tubenoses are commonly believed to serve and enhance this function, and while they do help with eliminating excess salts, channeling the concentrated saline solution away from the eyes, the primary function of the tubes is probably to help with collecting scent, which seafaring birds rely on to locate concentrations of plankton and fish.  

Common tubenoses of the Monterey Bay include Black-footed Albatross, Northern Fulmar and several species of shearwater, including Sooty, Pink-footed and Black-vented.  A few other shearwaters regularly turn up as well, along with occasional storm-petrels (extra-tiny flying specks I have not yet seen!)

Falcon-ish jaegers (both Parasitic and Pomarine) are regularly seen from the Point as well, along with the occasional Long-tailed Jaeger and South Polar Skua during fall migration.  Not related at all to falcons, jaegers exhibit a powerful, direct flight style that is diagnostic and, to me, looks a little like the pointed, swept-wing flight of falcons.

How could you not want to spend all day here?!

If you get the chance, I highly recommend giving seabirding (also called seawatching) a try!  Though we live just over two hours from Point Pinos, we visit several times a year - and I wish I had started  seabirding much sooner!

Even the best field guides can only hint at the identification of seabirds: they are a group of birds one needs to see, in person, to really learn well.  So much of the identity of these species relies on body structure, flight style and behavior, all of which are very difficult to illustrate.  No field guide will ever be able to do justice to the impossibly graceful, elegantly arcing flight of shearwaters, or impart the sense of wonder that comes from watching them in their element.  No field guide will ever be able to convey the utter cuteness (is that a word?) of a flock of alcids, buzzing past like frantic flying footballs - which always brings a smile to my face!  

And no amount of study in a field guide can substitute for time spent on the edge of the ocean, feeling the bite of the wind, the warmth of the sun, the sting of salt spray, the dampness of fog; no amount of reading can replace time spent peering through a spotting scope, intently watching, utterly mesmerized, as birds - hundreds, perhaps thousands of birds! - appear and disappear before your eyes, blessing you with momentary glimpses into their mysterious lives, lived almost entirely out at sea, far away over the rolling blue surface of the deep.