Bird Photographing on the Coastal Islands of Virginia

The coastal islands of any country are likely to be full of interest to the ornithologist. Sea birds particularly seek insular nesting sites for the dual reason that in these places, isolated from the mainland by an expanse of water, they are near a plentiful food supply which they secure from the sea, and that such predatory animals as the raccoon, red squirrel and others, often common on the mainland, are rare or unknown on island domains. Off the coast of North America from Alaska to Mexico, and from Florida to Labrador and the Arctic Ocean, are distributed innumerable islands. Their formation corresponds pretty closely with that of the adjacent mainland and a mere glance at a physiographic map of the continent cannot fail to convey a clear idea of the diversity of the coastal region. It follows, therefore, that some islands are treeless, bold and rocky, others are covered with loamy soil and in consequence are productive of vegetation, while still others are little more than sandspits, supporting only scant growths of stunted bushes and monotonous stretches of marsh grass. But whatever may be their appearance from a human viewpoint, these islands are, with few exceptions, eagerly sought by myriads of birds when the nesting season approaches; and it is on these isolated areas, therefore, that the bird student, the explorer and the tourist may behold many of the most impressive spectacles to be found anywhere in the bird world.

The east coast of Cape Charles, Va., is fringed by a series of narrow, sandy islands, behind which are miles of creeks and channels that wander through endless acres of marshlands and mudflats. Oysters and clams acquire a size and excellence here that
are at once pleasing to the eye and tempting to the appetite. Along the shore may be seen small towns, mostly situated where some creek or inlet affords facilities for the navigation of light craft. The streets of these villages are often paved with crushed shells, which make highways of surprising excellence. The supply of this paving material frequently exceeds the demand and one's eye and nose are likely to detect the presence off great heaps of shells, which, together which the oyster and clam rakes and dredges, make the occupation of the natives obvious. The clams, oysters, snails and the like are the products of the mudflats and the bottom of the ocean, but the waters that cover these are inhabited by fish of many varieties and sizes. Indeed the entire region is rich in sea food, and it is this abundance of nourishment that accounts very largely for the presence on this coast of such numbers of sea birds.

The ease with which the Cape Charles region can be reached from New York is certain to be a matter of surprise to one who has never been there before. At nine o'clock p.m. one boards the Cape Charles express in the heart of New York City and after a ride of nine hours awakes to find himself in a country of potato fields and negro cabins. Presently the station of Cheriton, Va., is reached and a wagon ride of two and a half miles toward the east brings him to Oyster, a small village which might be described as a cluster of houses beside an immense heap of oyster shells. The bird islands lie some miles out from here, but the distance is covered by a gasoline launch in a trifle over an hour. Thus the entire journey is completed within half a day.

Mr. Francis Harper was my companion on the expedition and our sojourn among the islands off Cape Charles occupied the last week in June, 1911. Neither of us had been to a similar region previously and many of the birds were entirely new to us. Of these the black-headed or laughing gulls, Larus atricilla L., were among the first to appear, a few being noted when we were striking out in the launch from Oyster for Cobb's Island. A number of these birds seemed to be flying inland and were per
haps setting out across the cape for Chesapeake Bay in quest of favorite feeding grounds. When we had proceeded some distance through the winding channels we noted several common terns, Sterna hirundo L., and a few great blue herons, Ardea h. herodias L., but these were old acquaintances of ours. Captain Broadwater, our pilot, told us that terns were called "strikers" in Virginia and great blue herons "crankies." Some questioning on the subject of local names elicited the further information that green herons are known as "scouts," black skimmers as "flood gulls," "sea dogs" or "scissor bills," oyster catchers as "sea crows," and kingbirds as "bee martins." Black terns were called "black strikers" and royal terns "big strikers. " The name "striker" is significant and is suggested by the habit these birds have of securing their food of small fish by "striking" the water bill first after a drop of several feet from a position in the air.

Our first black skimmer or flood gull, Rhynchops nigra L., was not seen until we were just off the shore of the famous Cobb's Island. The bird was passing a point of land that jutted out into the channel and was flying in our direction. He pursued a course just above the surface of the rather smooth water, moving his immense wings with unbelievable ease, and from time to time opened his bill and thrust its lower half into the water. While this "skimming" process was going on the skimmer's wings were moved more rapidly than in ordinary flight, but did not travel so far up and down, thus enabling the bird to fly very close to the water and yet not touch its surface with his wing tips. The bill was not simply dipped into the water and quickly withdrawn but was skimmed along for a rod or more, throwing the water out at both sides in thin sheets, and producing much the same effect that one might obtain by drawing the close points of a pair of scissors with considerable speed across the surface of a body of smooth water.

Cobb's Island is little more than a strip of sandy beach and salt marsh some seven miles in length and less than a mile in width. The only buildings to be found there are the Cobb's
Island Life Saving Station and the Cobb's Island Club house, both located near the southern extremity of the island and both built on posts or piles and raised some feet from the marsh to avoid flood tides. We found that the laughing gulls and clapper rails or marsh hens, Rallus c. crepitans Gmel., had also resorted to a similar recourse, the gulls' nests being constructed of heaps of dead reeds placed among the marsh grass and the eggs deposited in a hollow on the top away from the tide level while a rail's nest was supported mainly by being attached to the stems of the living grasses, the tops of which were arched over it to conceal the clutch of nine eggs.

The gull colony was small, containing perhaps not more than fifteen nests, but we were told there were many more birds in the marshes near the north end of the island. So long as we stood in plain view the birds remained aloft, uttering their mellow notes of protest and occasionally breaking out into the wild laughing call that has given them their name of "laughing gull." But when we had set up our umbrella blinds and disappeared within them, all of the birds except those owning the nests upon which we were working drew closer to the tops of the marsh grasses and very shortly settled upon their eggs. The individuals selected for photographic purposes were nervous and backward for a considerable period. Many time they dropped down to within a yard or two of the nests, dangled their legs earthward while the wings were moved rapidly, then wheeled and rose to a height, only to reapproach the nests by short stages, and finally settled lightly and stood daintily beside the eggs, affording an excellent opportunity for a study of their appearance. The laughing gull is decidedly smaller than the herring or harbor gull, Larus argentatus Pont, known so well to all, and is a much more striking bird in color pattern during the breeding season, with black head and a small white ring nearly encircling the eye.

The laughing gull secures much of its food in the shape of small fish whose habit it is to swim in closely bunched schools at the surface of the water. The bird, sighting a disturbed area on
the face of the otherwise unruffled water, makes for the spot and dips his bill into the living mass as he shoots by, not touching the water with body or feet. The minnows disappear like a flash (too late, however, for the safely of at least one of their number), but in a few moments foolishly return to the top and expose themselves to another attack from the enemy. The gulls undoubtedly indulge in other sea food for I noticed one bird gulping down a small crab or mussel that he had secured on the bank of a creek.

Late in the afternoon of our first day, when we had finished a visit to the Life Saving Station, a thunder storm of no mean proportions swept down on the island and its stilted buildings from the west. We stood on the back piazza of the club house and looked out across the salt meadows to the ocean while the black clouds boiled overhead and gradually crept down to meet the horizon in the east. The tide, seeming possessed of a determination not to be outdone by the fury of the heavenly powers, sent its dark currents surging through the channels and swirling about the piles until the marshes were filled with an ever-rising flood which threatened, as we realized presently, to destroy the homes of gulls and clapper rails. Of the latter birds we observed as many as eight or ten in various parts of the meadows. Ordinarily the "marsh hens" are heard and not seen, but now the water was almost level with the grass tops, and the rails were forced into the open against their wishes. Some were standing about on sedge and drift material, preening themselves and cackling, while others actually swam across open pools in search of better resting places. If the rails were uncomfortable the gulls were actually distressed, for we could see them hovering above their inundated domiciles and hear their notes of complaint. Throughout this period black skimmers coursed back and forth over the flooded meadows, skimming at frequent intervals in the open stretches, -- demonstrating to us their claim to the name of "flood gull" among the natives of the region.

At the Life Saving Station before the rain in the early after-
noon I was much amused by Captain Andrews' "aquatic" cat. She actually waded about in two or three inches of water, balancing herself on a submerged beam, and caught several fish by shooting forward a paw, pinning the minnow against the beam and then thrusting her head into the water to take the booty in her mouth. She also captured "mummychugs" along the edge of the creek in like manner, and impressed me as being by far the greatest water-loving cat I had yet seen.

Mr. George Isdell, proprietor of the club house, had told us of the abundance of flood gulls on Wreck Island, and on the morning tide of the following day our host took us in his power boat to the place, with sufficient food and water supply to the last through four and a half days. Ascending a creek through the salt meadows back of Wreck Island to a point directly behind the ridge of sand dunes near the beach we were delighted with the sight of clouds of black skimmers rising at the approach of our boat. We had supposed that the majority of these birds were nesting, but on landing and conducting a search across the sandy wastes we were somewhat taken aback to learn that there were many nest hollows but relatively few nest with eggs. The closely massed flocks or beds of skimmers, then, had not, as we imagined, been guarding their homes, but were simply assembled to enjoy the company of their fellows in conformity with their habits as gregarious birds. On the ground the short legs of the skimmers rendered the birds rather ungainly, but when flying they displayed an ease of action which at once transformed them into creatures of gracefulness. When a flock was disturbed its members drifted off in scattered lots, each bird uttering his peculiar nasal, hound-like "ow-ow-ow" which has given the skimmer the name of "seadog" with some. A few hundred yards away a dozen or so of the company almost invariably settled again on the ground and about this nucleus the entire company regathered, the black of their backs, as the birds stood closely massed, forming a noticeable dark area on the otherwise practically unbroken expanse of grayish-white sand.

Our duffle transferred to the shore of the creek, and the launch disappearing with its pilot, who had instructions to return for us after four days, we cast about for a camp site. In the total absence of trees we were obliged to make use of a three-legged tower erected by the United States Geodetic Survey, and to this our simple shelter tent was secured. In the event of a severe storm I fear our supplies and outfit would have fared poorly, but no violent weather occurred, although the heat of mid-day was well nigh unbearable, and the gnats and mosquitoes made sleep impossible except by covering our faces with cloths and thrusting our hands under the bedding. During nights when a breeze blew off the land the insects were exceedingly numerous, but if it chanced to shift to the eastward and come in from the ocean we rested in some peace.

There were no laughing gulls nesting on Wreck Island -- only skimmers and terns or strikers. One of these common terns had foolishly laid her three eggs on such a low piece of sand near the edge of the creek not far from our camp that they were completely submerged at each high tide. As the water covered the eggs the old bird hovered above them as terns do when hunting fish from mid-air. After some minutes she would fly away but would reappear at intervals and when the tide had receded alight beside her now thoroughly cooled treasures and gather them under her as if naught had happened. When the tide rose in the night the poor bird was of course forced to abandon the site until dawn, when she was once again observed to be faithfully adhering to her post. After this ridiculous performance had been repeated perhaps three or four times, and when we were becoming increasingly interested in the possible outcome, the end arrived. The fact that the eggs were perfectly fresh prevented them from floating, and thus as the water crept very slowly up about them they remained close together in nearly the position where the old bird had laid them; but during one exceptionally high and strong tide the current apparently rolled the eggs about and separated them, for when the old tern came to the spot she
no longer recognized it as her "claim," and after making a brief survey of the ruins departed once and for all.

The skimmers were the chief objects of our visit and although four days is hardly a sufficient length of time in which to study the home life of so interesting a creature, yet a surprising amount of information can be gleaned in that space; and we were especially well located for the purpose in hand, as the birds were nesting all about us, and instead of retiring to a house or hotel each night, as it is so often the case with those on ornithological trips, we lived day and night literally among the birds. Even in the darkest hours when I chanced to wake, or more often when the host of mosquitoes found an opening leading to my face and rushed in to the attack, rousing me from my slumbers, I could hear the sonorous baying of the skimmers here and there through the colony when the waves ceased for the time to pound heavily on the hard beach or when a bird flew past the tent at close range. Although I should not consider the skimmer to be a truly nocturnal species, I am nevertheless convinced that they are perfectly cognizant, as are the terns also, of the presence and movements of a human being or other strange creature in or near their habitat at night; and I am fairly certain, although not positive, that many of the female skimmers lay their eggs during the hours of darkness.

In the daytime when the sun's rays were so intense that heat waves constantly danced over the banking dunes and sultry marshes, making it advisable to wear a wet rag about one's head, the skimmers repaired to the cool, moist beach to bathe in pools left stranded by the receding tide or to fly above the waves or swoop and skim for food in a deep trough between them, always shooting up in time to avoid the breaking crest. The females not infrequently deserted their posts at the nests to enjoy the refreshing atmosphere of the exposed flats, but soon returned to the oppressive region of the home to guard the eggs. The nest is a mere depression in the sand, shaped by the bird's body, and here the three or four peculiarly blotched eggs, in size slightly smaller
than a bantam's, are deposited. When incubating the skimmer is a conspicuous bird, not only by reason of her striking color pattern of black, white and red (the latter on the base of the bill), but also because she is a vociferous creature and now and again raises her voice in the form of hoarse barks in reply to comrades passing on the wing or to neighbors covering their respective treasures on the sand near by.

In addition to the large numbers of skimmers that seemed always to travel together in big flocks, there were small bands of from two to six or seven (the commonest number being three) almost constantly flying in one direction or another in the colony. Then, too, but less often there were single birds, and it was a matter that perplexed us deeply and for a considerable time to know why many of these individuals, and not a few of those that were flying in company with others, carried in their bills articles which we originally suppose to be debris of some sort, but which we at length discovered were small fish. By continued observation it was found that the birds thus laden were apparently males and that the fish were being taken to the females, and played an important part in the mating or love ceremonies. I saw a male bird alight with a fish in his bill and walk toward a female who was standing on the sand. The latter reached for the food but before she could secure it the male drew his head aside, turned about and walked away, the female following. After they had gone a few feet the female stopped as though losing interest and immediately the male also halted and at the same time turned partly around, as if about to surrender the tempting minnow; but this was only a subterfuge on his part, for when the female was almost within reach of the prize he turned and again led the procession until the female's interest lagged, when he repeated his ruse of a short time before. The ridiculous performance was renewed several times when suddenly and unexpectedly the male gave over the fish, and while the female was engaged in gulping it down copulation was effected.

Unfortunately the skimmer and other sea-bird colonies along the Virginia coast and probably elsewhere are visited persistently well into the month of July, and often beyond, by parties of native eggers, who take every egg in sight. Two such companies visited Wreck Island during our stay there, one consisting of three and the second of six men and boys. They came equipped with baskets and pails and were very systematic in their hunt for eggs, spreading out and advancing in a line that embraced the entire strip occupied by the colony. The eggs of terns as well as those of skimmers were taken unless it was very evident that incubation had begun, and we learned that earlier in the season the colonies of laughing gulls had been "beach combed" in the same manner. It was a source of great satisfaction, therefore, on leaving Wreck Island and going to the historic Smith's Island (discovered by and named after Captain John Smith; owned for a considerable period by the adopted son of George Washington and later by General Robert E. Lee) to learn that the kindly but firm persuasiveness of Captain Hitchins of the Smith's Island Life Saving Station, and agent of the National Association of Audubon Societies, had exercised such an influence for good among the people of the immediate region that an extensive colony of skimmers and terns on Little Isaac's Island nearby was at all times immune from the depredations of eggers. Had we known of this colony earlier we should have devoted more time to it instead of spending only a few hours of the last two days among these birds, since they seemed tamer and were surely living a more normal existence, for it was here that we found the only skimmers' nests containing what is probably the full complement of four eggs. There is a law in Virginia forbidding the gathering of birds' eggs, although at least in the region of the coast it seems to be pretty generally ignored. An almost total lack of public sentiment and a scarcity of highly conscientious wardens and agents (chosen entirely from among the natives themselves) seem to be the two factors militating against a radical reform in favor of total abstinence from the egging habit. But
let us be confident that with the enlightening of the children of the south with regard to the great question of bird protection there will come a time when the sea-birds, water-fowl and shorebirds may seek the coastal and other regions in the south, there to lay their eggs and rear their young free from molestation.