Greylock

This past Sunday, my mom and I traveled to Mount Greylock in the northwestern corner of Massachusetts. This summit, taller than any other point in the state, was the site of an event for Orion Magazine. This magazine is in its thirtieth year of publishing articles and artwork on environmentalism. In commemoration of this anniversary, Orion brought thirty authors together to compile a book of original essays on what will be necessary in the next thirty years to ensure a decent future for our planet. The book, Thirty-Year Plan, contains essays from many well-known names, including Richard Louv, Ralph Nader, Pete Seeger, and Terry Tempest Williams. The gathering at Mount Greylock was a "kick-off" celebration for this new book.

The event at Bascom Lodge at the summit of the mountain hosted a panel of environmental authors, two of whom were included in the book. Authors Ginger Strand and Elizabeth Kolbert had essays included in Orion's book, and Bill McKibben is a well-known activist and author fighting against the causes of climate change.

left to right: Ginger Strand, Elizabeth Kolbert, Bill McKibben

The three came from a variety of backgrounds and each had unique ideas as to what needs to take place in the near-future in order to maintain a healthy planet. McKibben discussed how we need to become active and make a change that is visible to our policy makers so we can move our dependence away from fossil fuels. Through McKibben's discussion, the topic of wind power arose from a question in the audience. In Massachusetts, there are many people along the coast who believe that windmills would be better in the mountains than along the shore. However, many people who reside in the mountains would prefer to have the windmills offshore. McKibben addressed this issue by stating that as our society moves on, we will need to make changes and sacrifices in order to accomplish what we need. While a series of windmills may destroy the "wildness" of a region, it would be far preferable over a strip mine or oil rig at the same location.

Strand continued the theme of a shift of dependence, but she also emphasized how we need to improve and further utilize the technologies that we have to make them more efficient and beneficial. With these technologies and new-found powers, we must have the ability to say we were wrong and that we can fix our mistakes. Coal mining and oil drilling are dirty industries, and our society must admit that these are harmful practices. From there, we must move on and make improvements to what we found to be a problem.

To illustrate this important point, Strand shared a story of the atmospheric scientist Bernard Vonnegut, brother of the famous 20th-century writer, Kurt Vonnegut. As a meteorological researcher, Vonnegut was involved with the discovery of effective cloud-seeding methods to generate human-assisted rain and snow. This discovery struck the imaginations of the public: deserts would finally grow lush and green and areas with severe drought would find relief. The technology was hardly used for these purposes, a similar practice was used in Vietnam to create an advantage over the opponent. In this case, we took a technology with dreams of creating life and hope, and used it to destroy human lives. Soon after, Vonnegut, the same man who was a cloud-seeding researcher, became an activist against the use of the technology he had developed. Strand believes that humans need to be like Bernard Vonnegut. We all make mistakes, but we must be willing to have the decency to confess that we were mistaken. Beyond simply admitting a fault, we must work towards fixing what had happened and begin to do what is best for the world, even if we must face an initial loss.

Elizabeth Kolbert discussed an article she wrote about raising children. Apparently, this article had gained much more attention than any of her previous climate change articles that were more journalistic and based on years of in-depth research. This intrigued her. Why is the public willing to spend so much money on their child's future, whether it be SAT tutoring or college tuition, yet take few steps to insure a good future for Earth?

After a good discussion with the panelists, the group headed to dinner inside Bascom Lodge. My mom and I were seated in the dining hall with large windows that looked out over the western edge of the mountain. We could see for miles as we enjoyed our delicious dinner. Four others sat with us at our table: an older couple, a friend of theirs, and a staff member from Orion Magazine. We had great environmental discussions during the meal, ranging in topic from hydraulic fracturing ("fracking") to veganism.  

Near the end of the meal, we noticed the stunning glow of the setting sun. Amazed by the orange-and-red-covered sky, we headed outside. As we watched the colors slowly fade with the sinking sun, an evening bird chorus sang all around us. Clear whistles of White-throated Sparrows came from the spruces behind us, and the fast, high notes of two Winter Wrens rose up from somewhere off the edge of Greylock. Perhaps the most magical sounds of all were the Swainson's Thrushes. These olive-brown birds of the shadows are hardly anything to look at, but their songs are glorious, almost indescribable. As the sky became even darker, the birds quieted for the night.

By 4:30 the next morning, we were once again acquainted with birdsong. My mom and I woke early explore the habitats and bird life that existed on this mountain. Our first stop was along a small piece of the Appalachian Trail that cut through a spruce bog tucked in a forest of oak, maple, and beech. Sphagnum moss covered the soggy ground where a pair of juncos were nesting in a pile of fallen branches.

Before the sun lifted above the horizon, we were surrounded by the dawn chorus. Winter Wrens, Swainson's Thrushes, and a plethora of northern warblers all began the day in song, "singing the sun up," as author Ginger Strand put it. Even the nasal Red-breasted Nuthatches and ridiculously raucous ravens added beauty to the soundscape.

Our second hike was along an old road through the park. Again we were serenaded by warblers: Black-throated Blue, Black-throated Green, Blackburnian, Magnolia, and Canada. As we moved along the path, we could pick out the territories of each species with individuals evenly spaced along the length of our walk. At the farthest point on our walk, we were treated with a stunning view looking up and down at the surrounding mountains. Our vantage point was situated on a moderately-high peak, so were able to experience the depth of the valley alongside the immensity of the neighboring hills.

As we retraced our steps out of the woods, I thought through what I had just witnessed. I had seen true natural beauty: untouched forests with birds singing in every direction and endless views of distant foggy hills uninterrupted by buildings or roads. I don't want to lose places like this. I want everyone to be able to experience these places the way I did, and not only for the next thirty years. For eternity. 

Did someone say "puffins"?

Waking up to the chilly breeze blowing off the bay through my window, I welcomed the singing Hermit Thrush, who was sitting just feet from the cabin, low on a spruce branch between me and the water. The sky was gray. The sun was not shining through as it had the day before.

As I walked to the meeting place for the early morning bird walks, a slight drizzle started, so I ducked under the porch of The Bridge. Eventually, the drizzle became a steady downpour, resulting in a cancellation of the walk, so instead of traversing the island through the mud and rain, I stayed on the porch. I watched as eiders and guillemots flew past, wings beating fast as they shot over the open water in search of a protected cove. A few Common Terns bounced past as well, occasionally folding their snowy wings and plunging into the turbid bay.

The rumble of lobster boats came from somewhere in the fog. Occasionally one of these boats would come into view, a tail of gulls growing larger with each trap pulled from the murky depths.

When the rain stopped, I headed towards the parula nest, where a small group of birders were standing around, watching as the babies explored outside the nest for the first time. These tiny almost-fledglings sat begging for food as the slaving parents rushed back and forth stuffing fresh caterpillars down the tiny yellow mouths.

watching the Northern Parula nest

a very hungry baby parula

After breakfast, our group split. Half of the group traveled to Eastern Egg Rock, while my group headed out to the trails on Hog Island. The spruce woods were filled with birds. Just as we got everyone on a singing Winter Wren to our right, a Blackburnian Warbler would sing to the left. Birds were not the only subjects on walk--we stopped to look at everything that caught our attention: ferns, tide pools, and even a brilliant pink slime mold. The highlight for many on this walk was the Merlin we found while we were slipping on the damp rocks past the tide line. The tiny falcon perched on a gnarly little snag on the other end of the cove. Kee-kee-kee-kee rang out from across the shoreline as the Merlin took off, flew out along the beach, then headed for the cover of the forest.

When we emerged, feet damp and muddy, from the depths of Hog Island, we gobbled up another fantastic meal before continuing with the afternoon activities. My group was off to Eastern Egg Rock, the breeding site for Atlantic Puffins and several tern species. This boat ride was much anticipated by almost everyone in the group, even those who had already seen puffins several times before! With the grace of decent weather, we headed out into Muscongus Bay.

view of Hog Island as we headed out

Along the way, Steve Kress talked about the seabirds at Eastern Egg Rock and discussed the natural history of the various alcids that live along the coast of Maine. Several of the instructors walked around with field guides to teach the group about the identification of the alcids and terns that we might encounter eight miles out.

Scott Weidensaul teaching the campers about the Black Guillemot

 Along the way out, we had some neat sightings, like this pile of seals...

...many Common Eiders...

...a Great Cormorant trying to blend in with his more common relatives...

 ...and my lifer Wilson's Storm-Petrels!

These graceful little seabirds flapped right over the waves, darting back and forth over the water. Tom Johnson spotted the first one, a distant speck just below the horizon. Looking almost like a Tree Swallow from afar, the tiny bird eluded most people on the boat. Soon, however, another appeared. A few minutes later, several were around the boat. Many came quite close, and after a bit of rearranging of people on the boat, everyone got a satisfactory view of this tiny bird of the open oceans.

As we continued on farther into the bay, I spotted a seabird flapping and gliding way off on the starboard side. Having minimal experience with pelagic species, I called Tom Johnson, who eventually found the same bird dipping above and below the horizon well beyond where some binoculars could even see. As soon as he saw it, he shouted "Manx Shearwater!" in his deep, loud voice. Suddenly the boat turned into a frenzy as it had for the storm-petrels. Everyone began scanning the horizon for the bird. Unfortunately, the bird against a dark background of clouds and open sea eluded almost everyone. This was to be the only one we saw on the boat trip.

As we approached Eastern Egg Rock, I noted the tremendous number of terns flying along the boat, many with small fish caught in their beaks. These birds were heading back to their nests after a successful hunt out in the bay.

Common Tern headed away from the island, probably in search of fish

As we got even closer to the Rock, we began to see the Black Guillemots following the same path, but closer to the water's surface. Many of these guillemots flew past with red rock eels, or rock gunnels, hanging out of their thin beaks. This reddish fish is a favorite meal for these birds.

Black Guillemot -- check out those red feet!

When we arrived at Eastern Egg Rock, a snowy cloud of terns arose from the island. The instructors and others pointed left and right as various tern species flew by: "Common Tern coming towards the back of the boat! Arctic Tern sitting on the closest rock! Two Roseate Terns in flight directly in front of the boat!"

Roseate Tern

Arctic Tern

another Roseate Tern

Puffins were flying all around. Many were simply fluttering from rock to rock, sometimes chasing off another puffin. At times, a dozen of these goofy birds would be hopping around on a boulder chasing each other.

Atlantic Puffin flying in front of the outhouse on Eastern Egg Rock

While some of these birds were loafing on the rocks, a few puffins were busy finding food for youngsters. Several of these fast-flying football-shaped birds came past the boat with mouthfuls of silver fish. When the puffins reached the island, they would land briefly before disappearing into the burrow nests.

The terns and puffins were lifers for many, making everyone on the boat quite happy. However, there was one bird that really stood out to some as being the best bird of the trip. Sitting on one of the outlying rocks along the island was a single Razorbill, a larger relative of the puffin. This bird, decked out in a penguin-like tuxedo, is uncommon in this part of Maine during the summer. This species had eluded me in the past, despite my diligent searches whenever I was along the Atlantic seaboard in the late fall and winter when Razorbills move south along the coast.

Razorbill (bottom) with a Double-crested Cormorant

resting Razorbill with a cormorant and two eiders

Due to the schedule we were attempting to keep and the long return trip, we had to turn back sooner than anyone wanted. However, we had all gotten excellent views of many great species in the short time we were at Eastern Egg Rock.

The ride back was less eventful: fewer storm-petrels and no more shearwaters. We did spot this Bald Eagle flying in front of the approaching storm cloud:

Speaking of that storm cloud, about halfway back to Hog Island, the storm hit us. We watched as the rain moved closer and closer and eventually reached our boat as everyone was putting on rain gear and covering expensive cameras. With a very close bolt of lightning and thunder-crack, everyone huddled underneath the little cover the Snow Goose III provided. As the storm continued, the captain motored towards Harbor Island, where we would be in calmer waters and in a place where we were not the tallest objects in the immediate area. As soon as the storm passed, we continued on our way back to Hog Island.

Upon returning, we found a group of landlubbers gathered around the parula nest. Another baby had made its way to the edge of nest. The adults continued to fly back and forth from the nest to the nearby trees and shrubs, where they picked small, green caterpillars off the leaves. When the bird flew into the nest, it was greeted by a chorus of loud chirps. As we watched, the young warblers did not stop eating, so we were able to witness this spectacularly exciting event until dinner.

The fact that the nest was so close to the trail provided an amazing opportunity for viewing and photographing this behavior. Many people had cameras aimed at the nest waiting for the perfect moment occured when one of the parents, either the brilliant male or the beautifully subtle female, returned with a meal. I took a lot of photos of these birds, so here are several of my favorite shots:

As we were watching, one of the nestlings fledged. The tiny bird fluttered off the nest and onto a tiny branch at the base of the spruce. The babies were growing up! As this first fledgling grasped onto the perch, the parents had to flutter in or cling onto the trunk to feed it.

After witnessing and documenting this big step in the parula's life, we reluctantly headed to the dining hall, craning our necks as we walked away in order to keep an eye on these fascinating warblers.

After the sunset, when our attention could not be focused on the baby birds, we shuffled into the Fish House for an evening program by Julie Zickefoose. Her program, The Bluebird Effect, titled after her new book, was phenomenal. Julie shared many of her experiences as a naturalist, artist, wildlife rehabilitator, musician, and mother. The way she intertwined all of the aspects of her life into an amusing and creative story captured the audience in a way I have seen few presenters do. Many of her experiences made us laugh, her artwork blew us away, and her incredible video of nestling cuckoos immediately became a camp favorite.

She then sang a couple of beautiful songs that concluded her presentation and bid us goodnight after a day of life birds, new experiences, and (relatively) good weather.

Nature Quiz Answers

A while back, I posted a nature quiz, but never got around to answering it. Again, here are the photos:

The correct responses are:

• Pepper-and-Salt Skipper (a butterfly)
• Starflower (Trientalis borealis, one of many species with this common name)
• Tulip-tree Beauty (caterpillar of a moth on a Sassafras leaf)

A Second Day of Hog

Early on Monday morning, before even the earliest Song Sparrow had started singing, I and a few other birders headed out to explore Hog Island and record the early-morning birdsong. The evening before, Lang Elliot, sound recorder extraordinaire, had asked for six people who wanted to learn how to record birds using his high-tech recorders and parabolic microphones. Lots of people were excited... until they found out the group would be leaving at 4am!

As we headed out, a Great Blue Heron squawked as it flew close to shore--the first avian sound of the morning. As we headed deeper into the woods, we started to hear a few more birds. The first singers we came upon were Dark-eyed Juncos singing just off the path. These trills emanating from the red spruces gave us an opportunity to try out the recording equipment. The juncos kept switching between two song types, one that was very musical and another that sounded more mechanical. With recorders in hand, we were able to listen in on these birds as the went through their entire repertoire of song types. Satisfied and with good recordings, we moved on down the trail.

Me recording the dawn song of a Black-throated Green Warbler; photo by Tom Johnson

Before long, we detected the tinkling of a distant Winter Wren. He was probably back on the mainland, and his piercing song had traveled across the water, reaching our ears on Hog Island. It is amazing that a bird, a mere 4 inches in length, could sing loud enough that his song could travel that far. As we moved down the trail, we would stop every so often to listen and record various members of the dawn chorus. We were treated with the buzzy zee-zee-zee-zoo-zee and zoo-zee-zoo-zoo-zee of a Black-throated Green Warbler and the monotonous ink-ink-ink of a distant Red-breasted Nuthatch. A Blackburnian Warbler even showed up along the walk, but he never sang, much to the disappointment of the group!

By the time we wrapped up our bird recording and discussion, the other groups from the early morning bird walks (they slept-in until 5:30 or so) were returning from the woods. In sharing observations, it became clear that quite a few birds that sing around 4:30 become quiet after about an hour, as these later groups missed several species that we had heard singing. As Lang Elliot would say, the recording group had witnessed the "magical hour" of birdsong.

Upon hearing the breakfast bell, everyone piled into the dining room for another incredible meal. Breakfasts were excellent, with eggs, bacon, toast, granola, homemade yogurt, and fresh fruit.

Another delicious breakfast at Hog Island

While we were eating, we shared our "target" birds for the day, as different groups were headed to different places. The teen group was headed to the mainland, where we would bird two different habitats:

The first place we stopped was McCurdy Pond Road. This dirt road cuts through a mixed forest not far from a lake. Although we could not easily see the water, we could hear loons yodeling in the distance. As we started out, these loud cries were the only sign of birdlife that we heard, possibly a result of the dense cloud-cover overhead. As we wandered down the road, we began to hear birds singing. Ovenbirds and Red-eyed Vireos sang from the deciduous trees and a handful of Pine Warblers trilled from the canopies of the large pines. A stunning male Black-and-white Warbler came right out along the road to meet the group, providing better looks than many had ever had of this colorless songbird.

When we turned around, the we heard the reeep of a Great Crested Flycatcher, which we soon found perched on a snag just off the road. This large flycatcher sat for several minutes, allowing everyone to get nice views. His sulfur-colored belly and reddish wings stood out against the ominous gray sky behind him. As we were watching this bird, a Canada Warbler gave a quick warble in the brush below the flycatcher. With a bit of coaxing, the bird popped out of the woods right in front of the group. This male Canada Warbler, decked out in his black necklace and spectacles, posed on a low branch before zipping back into the dense vegetation.

As we were packing up to head back to the vans, Tom Johnson picked out a song way in the back of the boggy woods. Northern Waterthrush! With hardly any playback, the bird came towards us. He perched on a fairly open branch and sang as we watched him tilt his head back with each punctuated note. Many people had never seen this species, or any waterthrush for that matter, so Tom discussed the intricacies of waterthrush identification. This cooperative bird, sitting in the open, provided a good demonstration of all of the characteristic field marks of this species versus a Louisiana Waterthrush. After a little while, this bird disappeared back into the brush like the Canada.

Our next stop was a property that belongs to the Damariscotta River Association. As soon as I stepped out of the van, I could hear the bubbling songs of Bobolinks fluttering over the grassy fields. With a quick scan over the grass, I spotted several males flying and singing over the meadow in hopes of impressing the females that were silently perched on the grass blades below. Meanwhile, a Sora cackled from the marshy area at the base of the field. A minute later, two Soras were calling from the tall grasses and sedges. These two birds continued to cackle, as if laughing at the fact that we could not find them in the dense vegetation!

One of the coolest sightings of the day was a Black-billed Cuckoo that flew into the open past our group. Cuckoos are birds of brush and forests, so seeing one fly out in the open was a real treat. We (and especially Tom Johnson) were really excited about this. Then, the cuckoo flew back the other direction, this time with caterpillars in its mouth! Not a minute later, two Black-billed Cuckoos flew out of the woods, presumably gathering food for hungry nestlings!

The cuckoos weren't the only successful breeders on site. Twenty feet in front of the path sat a Cedar Waxwing on a nest! The nest was extremely hard to see, and the brown bird blended in perfectly with the grassy nest and the brush around it.

Despite the morning's weather forecast, the rain had held off! We had a successful morning of birding, so we headed back for lunch where we met up with the other groups and shared our morning sightings. After lunch, the teens reconvened and headed onto the boat for our first real trip out into Muscongus Bay. We were headed to Wreck Island, a small island about 4 miles off the shore where there is an active Great Blue Heron rookery. Not long after we left Hog Island, the skies opened up. We grabbed our raincoats, covered our cameras, but continued the journey to the island. Along the way, we scanned the rocks and horizon for birds and other wildlife.

Many of the small rocks in the bay were covered with Double-crested Cormorants, Common Eiders, and Harbor Seals.

Common Eiders, Double-crested Cormorants, and a Harbor Seal

Common Eiders with chicks and a Herring Gull on the nest

Mixed in with these more common species, we discovered a Great Cormorant, the larger, beefier, and rarer cousin of the Double-crested...

Great Cormorant

 ...a snazzy male Red-breasted Merganser...

male Red-breasted Merganser with eiders and a Double-crested Cormorant

...and a dull female Black Scoter that was loafing on the water with a raft of eiders.

female Black Scoter with an eider in the background

Even though the rain was pouring down and everyone was soaked, we were all in high spirits after finding three awesome birds.

When we got to the island, we moved into a small cod-fishing dory that was used to make the landing on the island. Transporting eight at a time, the rowboat took us to the shore where we hopped out and climbed up the slippery rocks into the woods. Brushing ferns and brambles out of the path, we made our way to a small opening where the giant heron nests, filled with youngsters, sat in the bare trees. These primitive birds, their gigantic nests build on silhouetted snags, and the fog rolling in and out gave a prehistoric feel to this experience. The sound of water droplets dripping off the large fern fronds covering the ground only added to this feeling.

Great Blue Heron flying to Wreck Island

Before long, we were on the boat again and headed back to Hog Island. Completely drenched, but very happy, we hopped off the Snow Goose and dried off before dinner.

The evening program was presented by Dr. Sara Morris, an incredible ornithologist, who, among other things, runs the Appledore Island Banding Station off the coast of Maine. Her presentation, entitled "Taking the Sexism Out of Birding," focused on the fact that many beginning birders are so focused on the brilliantly-colored male songbirds, that they simply ignore the females that can be tricky to identify. Her presentation challenged the audience to use what they already knew about identifying male birds to find similar, although often less obvious, field marks on the females. She had the whole audience surprised by this method of looking at female birds. Even experienced birders in the room noted that they had never really noticed how certain characteristics are so similar on males and females of the same species!

With everyone ready to go out and identify those female birds, we headed to the cabins to get ready for another full day of birding and ecology along the coast of Maine...

Trip to Maine

For the last week, I have been exploring the coastal regions along the coast of Maine. My dad, brother, and I traveled to this part of the country about a week ago. I was attending the Hog Island Audubon Camp in Maine for the Coastal Maine Bird Studies program while my dad and brother camped in various parks around the state. Before I headed to the island for the five-day program, we checked out a local nature trail that was not far from Hog Island. This little trail ended up in a beautiful bog. This landscape of sphagnum moss and black spruce was gorgeous and held a variety of unique species. The birdlife was very different from that I am used at home in the summer. White-throated Sparrows and Canada Warblers sang from the spruces while a Broad-winged Hawk circled overhead. The ground was covered with the sparkling reds and greens of sphagnum moss, sundew, and pitcher plants.

pitcher plant

Scattered in with the other plants were these grass-pinks, a beautiful bog orchid species.

grass-pinks

Once the sun poked out from behind the clouds, the insect life around the bog came alive. Several darner and whiteface dragonfly species began flying up and down the damp habitat. In the middle of the bog, I noticed several small butterflies fluttering around the ground barely lifting themselves a few inches above the soggy vegetated mat. These tiny gray and yellowish insects were Bog Coppers, a new species for me! This tiny butterfly species is restricted to bogs where the larval hostplant, cranberry, grows.

Bog Copper

From this nature preserve, we headed to the headquarters for Todd Wildlife Sanctuary, which is situated on the mainland very close to Hog Island (the sanctuary actually includes the island). We took a little walk with through the wildflower meadow situated on the hill just above the shore. The meadow was filled with the blues and pinks of the blooming lupine and milkweed, which attracted a bunch of awesome butterflies, many of which I rarely see in Pennsylvania. The most common species flying around seemed to replace the ones I see most often in Pennsylvania. Northern Crescents replaced Pearl Crescents, Canadian Tiger Swallowtails replaced Eastern Tiger Swallowtails, and Long Dashes replaced Peck's Skippers. I also found a few individuals of a new species for me, the Harris' Checkerspot. This orange and black butterfly is a stunning species that only inhabits wet meadows of northeastern United States. 

Around 2pm, Hog Island's boat the "Snow Goose III" pulled up at the dock. From the dock, I had a great view of the island, which is just off the shore. With the luggage on board, we motored over to the dock on the spruce-covered island.

When the group of campers reached the island, we were greeted by many of the instructors including Scott Weidensaul, Bill Thompson, and Julie Zickefoose. Scott gave an introduction about the island and the week before we headed off to the cabins. I also met the two instructors for the teen group, Heather Richard and Josh Potter.

During the week at Hog Island, there were to be two programs occurring at the same time. The first was the Coastal Maine Bird Studies, which is for teenagers interested in nature, and the other is the Joy of Birding, which is intended for adults who want to learn more about birds and birding. Although we were officially part of different programs, the two groups spent a lot of time together, whether it was in the dining hall or out birding.

For the rest of the afternoon, I explored the portion of the island near the cabins and buildings until some of the other teens arrived. During this time, I spotted a female Northern Parula carrying food, a sign that she had a nest nearby. With the help of some others, I spotted the nest, which looked like nothing more than a clump of lichen in a lichen-filled tree! This little nest and the chirping babies inside would prove to be one of the most exciting aspects of the week... more on that later!

The Northern Parula nest

By around 5pm, everyone had arrived, and the teens began introductions. There were 16 of us in total, including three from Pennsylvania. Before this afternoon, I had not met any of the other young birders in the group, so the camp became an excellent opportunity to meet other teenagers who are interested in birding! It is so hard to find other teenagers with similar interests, so a congregation like the one at Hog Island was something I do not get to experience very often.

The sounding of the bell at 7pm marked the start of dinner. We all rushed to the dining hall where were were treated to the first of many incredible meals on the island. The cook, Janii, treated us with a variety of food options, all of which tasted wonderful. His unique cooking style, sometimes with unexpected ingredients, made meals almost as desirable as the birding trips! The dining style at Hog Island is also unique. The dining hall holds around ten tables, all of which seat eight people. For every meal, an instructor sits at the end facing the kitchen. Throughout the week, the instructor stays at this seat so the campers can move around and meet different instructors at each meal. The person on the other end of the table is the "hopper," who collects everyone's dishes and cleans the table after every meal. The hoppers were all vying for the position of "Hopper of the Week" that would be announced on the last day of camp. Several of the camp participants made the "hopping" into a competition by going above and beyond their expected duties!

Not long after the delicious meal, we moved to the Fish House for the evening program. The evening's program on Sunday was given by Dr. Steve Kress, who is the director of Project Puffin, the organization that helps to run Hog Island and that has developed methods to restore seabird populations around the world. Steve talked about the incredible history of Hog Island as well as the history of the seabird restoration program.

After little meeting after the presentation, the teens all headed back to our cabin, "The Crow's Nest," were we got some sleep before a long day of birding ahead.