Late summer and the feathered ones- swallows, geese, ducks as well as those piggy cormorants, gather together before heading south. Safety in numbers is not a theme lost on any of them.

During much of the summer the cormorants went about their business of eating (fish, water snakes) and eating and well, doing their business! Then they decide- mostly because there’s more of them- that a boat mast top or spreader is the place to spend the night. Fortunately they are creatures of habit and when the captain waved his paddle they right got the message and only made a try or two to land on our mast top.  I’m thinking their little butts and webbed feet would be mighty hurting thanks to the spike strip we had installed at the top a few years ago.

Russ takes up arms against the cormorants

Slip sliding down the backstay

Early on their motto was “one per boat” unless the newcomer was extremely determined. The first one would have a few choice words with the next occupier and that generally ensured that #1 had the night’s lodging all to him/herself.

By mid-Sept the small mono on the mooring south of us was the evening’s berth of choice for three cormorants. For the next two weeks the nightly circus routine was predictable enjoyment; for us anyway.

Each one would fly a huge oval pattern before attempting to land on the spreader or mast top. The first one was so punctual you could set your watch by it. The second and third acts often had trouble nailing the landing and would slide off, flapping their wings to maintain balance-futile effort that.

The pain I put up with just for good night’s sleep!

Don’t you dare crap on me!

I’m sure I can balance here- all night??  Wait- this isn’t a sail boat; not gonna work

We are ever grateful to the mono next to us.  That boat was plastered in cormorant guano and we were spared.  The owners never took the boat out, and only showed up once to check on it for 5 mins; it sat as a perfect bird roosting spot all summer long.

Preferred by Deep River cormorants 3 to 1

Did I get your attention with that title? The reality is that the swallows make the vortex and we enthralled humans congregate on the river’s edge in various types of vessels to watch this amazing display.

Starting some time near the end of August, during the entire month of September and into October, thousands of birds congregate in the lower Connecticut River Valley on their migration route south. One massing in particular is an attention-getter. Each day at dusk in late summer and early fall, hundreds of thousands of swallows fly in from all directions and gather over a small island in the Connecticut River. There, for perhaps no more than 20 minutes, they mill around in an enormous, undulating mass of life, specks of black in the fading late-day light. (you can read this as: difficult to snap a clear photo in fading light)

Primarily comprised of tree swallows, it is speculated that these birds fly in from as far as 50 miles away. As many as half a million may come in at dusk where they converge just before sunset over the island, often creating a spectacular “ballet” in the sky. Then, just after sunset, following the lead of one swallow, they form a huge dark cloud that within seconds becomes a funnel and whoosh, they all settle down into a communal roost in the reeds for the night. The vortex happened at least four times while we watched; imagine if all the swallows formed one huge one; a truly spectacular event to photograph.

The boats gather to await the swallows

The dark area in the center is the swallow vortex about to descend into the marsh

You can just see the large dark mass in the upper left and the long funnel down in the photo’s center

The large mass forms, then funnels down into the marsh below

The weather gods smiled kindly upon us all week and after we engaged in a day of boat cleaning at the dock it was time for a short trip down river. On the way back Sunday we’d planned a fuel and water stop at Old Lyme Dock Co. where the diesel is less costly, probably fresher and the water very drinkable. Thanks to a longer than usual wait for the train bridge to open- oh did I neglect to say “Old Lyme Draw? – time ran out on that plan. No worries mon; Friday we’d head down river to Old Lyme for an all-tanks fill up, stopping by Goose Island to watch the swallows then anchor off Nott Island opposite Essex harbour for the night. Don’t you love it when a great plan actually works out just perfect?  Oh, me too. As a bonus the wind and current kept us pointed bow north so we could sit on the roof and take in the view.