Old Bonaventure

Old Bonaventure

Kittiwakes and Eagles

 

On the long trek east to St. John’s from the Strait of Belle Isle (835 km), I detoured over to Old Bonaventure, a tiny harbour town at the end of a winding coast road. There, I caught up with an old friend — David Vivian — who has lived in Ottawa for years, but is a Newfoundlander through and through, has maintained both a house and a boat at the harbour and returns to his roots every year.

Within less than 10 minutes of my arrival, we were in the boat , life jackets secured, and heading out to sea. This was going to be the real deal: an ‘authentic’ Newfoundland experience — voyaging up the coast in an open boat with a native  Newfoundlander, thoroughly knowledgable of the area and eager to share that knowledge. And for me — finally — the chance to photograph coastal birds (so far on this trip, I’ve photographed just about everything but).

Old Bonaventure Harbour

Old Bonaventure Harbour

 

Captain Vivian at the hekm

Captain Vivian (Devaanand) at the helm

Talking over the authoritative hum of the Yamaha 60 horsepower motor, David points to some outcroppings of rock just beyond the mouth of the harbour. Here, hundreds of kittiwakes (a type of gull) have commandeered the rocks as a rookery. I had never had the chance to photograph these birds before, and the timing was such that, if lucky, we may see some of their newly–hatched fledglings. Kittiwakes form raucous breeding colonies in the crevices of cliffs.

Kittiwakes on the rock cliff

Kittiwakes on the rock cliff

 

Sharing a ledge

Sharing a ledge

First glimpse of a flegling

First glimpse of a flegling

 

This little one we found down on a flat ledge far below the cliffs close to the water. We speculated that it may have fallen from a ledge above, and perhaps had even been abandoned.

This little one we found down on a flat ledge close to the water far below the cliffs. We speculated that it may have fallen from a ledge above, and perhaps even abandoned. Apparently most kittiwake fledglings instinctively stay very still on their narrow perches: this one, perhaps not still enough.

Further up the coast of sheer rock, we spotted an eagle, then three, then a dozen or so, some in the air, some perched on crags.

 

Eagles and cliffside

Eagles and cliffside

Eagles three.

Eagles three.

 

Waiting and watching

Waiting and watching

 

Terns and guillemots were also darting and diving in their constant search for food. The guillemots were far too fast to capture, but one or two terns cooperated.

One good tern . . .

One good tern . . .

 

. . . deserves another.

. . . deserves another.

 

As we moved further up the coast, David told me about capelin, a smelt-like fish that has a bizarre spawning practice. Males and females ride the waves right up onto the beach, out of the water, where spawning takes place. Here’s what Wikipedia has to say: “Whales, seals and cod, squid, mackerel, beluga whales and seabirds all prey on capelin, in particular during the spawning season of the capelin while it migrates southwards. Capelin spawn on sandy beaches and sandy bottom at the age of 2–6 years, and have an extremely high mortality rate on the beaches after spawning, for males close to 100% mortality”.  Perhaps they need to rethink their survival strategy.

Scarcely had he finished telling me about these strange fish than, as if on cue, a whole slew of them began riding waves onto the beach about 30 meters off the port bow.

Capelin writhing on the beach.

Capelin writhing on the beach.

Despite the mortality rate, there were hundreds — thousands — swimming under the boat. I tried, not totally successfully, to photograph them.

Capelin under the boat.

Capelin under the boat.

 

Cliffs up the coast from tHe harbour

Cliffs up the coast from tHe harbour

 

Signals 3

Arriving in St. John’s, I made a beeline for Signal Hill, which dominates the harbour and is a National Historic site. Since it is Signal Hill, I thought I would try to capture, in images, how signalling has changed over the past three centuries.

Signalling in the 1800s

Before the advent of electricity, signalling was mainly done through guns, signal flags and the frantic waving of arms. A gun could be heard for a few kilometers at most.

I found these fellows in the parking lot of Signal Hill, and politely asked them tif they wouldn't mind posing at the end of the lot. I didn't want any cars spoiling the authentic 18th century ambiance.

I found these fellows in the parking lot of Signal Hill, and politely asked them tif they wouldn’t mind posing at the end of the lot. I didn’t want any cars spoiling the authentic 18th century ambiance.

 

Signalling in the 1900s:

Guglielmo Marconi receives the world’s first trans-atlantic radio transmission from England in 1901

Guglielmo Marconi. He needed a kite to get the antenna high enough to do the job

Guglielmo Marconi. He needed a kite to get the antenna high enough to do the job.

 

Signalling 2013

JD standing in front of the Cabot Tower at Signal Hill uses a common 21st century device to signal.

JD signalling. He required three bars on the cellular network. A search for "Guglielmo Marconi" took 0.083 seconds. I think Guglielmo would be pleased.

Your tireless blogster signalling a signal on Signal Hill. He required three bars on the cellular network. A search for “Guglielmo Marconi” took 0.083 seconds. I think Guglielmo would have been pleased.

 


 

Iconic St. John's

Iconic St. John’s

 

Off on a puffin tour tomorrow with some other good friends.

To be continued . . .