20-26 Aug; Willet be any good?

So when I'd left off, I'd been a week in James Bay. It had mostly been gorgeously sunny, the shorebirds were mostly in good numbers, and I felt I was getting a handle on them. In short, an excellent introduction. I was part of a fantastic camp, surveying with an incredibly experienced partner (Doug) who could answer pretty much any question I had. While there are obvious extremes in remote living here, such as walking 20+K a day in wellies (rubber boots for my North American friends), bathing naked in a freshwater creek, getting up whenever the tide dictates you ought to start surveying and relieving yourself al fresco in an outhouse, life itself felt very relaxed. Everyone in the camp was easygoing, and in Doug we had a great raconteur to keep us all entertained! Everything was great already, but the second week provided some astounding wildlife highlights to boot!

20 Aug
A wild, wet and windy day with a dramatic high tide!
Birding Highlights: American Wigeon-3, Blue-winged Teal-3, Osprey-3, Northern Harrier-5, Semipalmated Plover-220, Solitary Sandpiper-4, Greater Yellowlegs-139, Least Sandpiper-286, White-rumped Sandpiper-1133, Buff-breasted Sandpiper-2, Baird's Sandpiper x1 (adult), Short-billed Dowitcher-11, Red-necked Phalarope-2, Philadelphia Vireo-1, Le Conte's Sparrow-1, Lincoln's Sparrow-1, Common Redpoll-1.
It was too wet and windy a day for any banding, so all six of us surveyed, in three pairs. While the others took Pisquatchee and Longridge, Dan and I did Bear Point. Feeling ambitious, we walked out about 12 kilometres (further than I've even labelled on the Map in the previous post!), to a rocky ridge Doug referred to as "desperation point". Righty ho then.
The tide was incredibly low on our walk out, at least four kilometres from the start of the saltmarsh. We walked all the way out to the edge, doing a low-tide survey as we went, and finding a group of 500 White-rumped Sandpipers and a few adult Sanderling, feeding right out at the waters edge. We got there at just about low tide, and saw it switch. Today was one of the most extreme tides we had, so when it switched, you knew it! We were forced into walking diagonally to desperation point by the tide, coming in at a rate of probably a metre every two seconds. Just try to picture that!
Once we'd reached "Desperation Point" it was three hours before high tide, and the open mudflats had already been totally covered by the tide. In other words, with three hours left to go, the tide was already higher than it had been at high tide, just seven days beforehand!
I checked a creek mouth the other side of desperation point for half an hour, seeing a few shorebirds incuding, most notably, an adult Baird's Sandpiper (there really should be no adults here after the last week of July, so this was pretty exceptional and a new plumage!). I'd thought that would be my highlight of the day, but barely 10 minutes passed before it was eclipsed! I saw Dan beckoning me back over to the boulders, from which he'd been scanning the Bay. I took a lesiurely stroll back, until I saw him getting much more animated, and shouting something beginning with "B". Still mystified, but intrigued now, I quickened my pace and was shortly within earshot. It was then that Dan said something like "Hurry up, I've got a Beluga!!". I sprinted the last few steps like my life depended on it!
Upon getting to the brow of the ridge, I saw a gleaming white body, thrashing about unbelievably close inshore. I'd expected to be watching a distant back, breaking the waves miles offshore through a scopeview, not this!! Now, this is a (mostly) family friendly blog, so I'm afraid I can't repeat most of the dialogue from the next half an hour. Needless to say, there were lots of ducks, a few brother-duckers, some smits, smitting bells, floody noras and various other entirely safe and appropriate words banded about, in the heavily edited version of events I'm now presenting. The BELUGA showed unbelievably well, totally oblivious to us. It worked its way along the submerged boulders, seemingly wanting nothing more than a good old scratch, to relieve itself of parasites, itches and various other burdens. It twisted and turned, flapping flippers as if waving, turning belly up, splashing the surface with effortless flicks of its tail, in water barely two foot deep, mostly 30-50 feet offshore. Through a scope on minimum zoom (roughly 20x magnification), it was quite literally impossible to fit it's full, two and a half metre long body into the frame! This was all going on for about half an hour, with an animal I've dreamed about seeing almost all of my life. I feel confident in saying this was the most exciting moment of my travels so far, probably the most exciting moment on any of my travels, and if I should beat it I'll have had more luck than most people get in a lifetime!

since I had no camera, here's the sketch from my diary that evening!

Eventually, our cetaceous friend bid us farewell, drifting off into the Bay, and we had to begin our survey. Birdwise, the highlights were two Buff-breasted Sandpipers, my first here and only second and third ever. I was quite pleased to pick the first one up, and call it correctly, in flight! The high, ever-increasing tide meant we were having to hop over constantly deepening channels through the saltmarsh, and it wasn't too long before my wellies were inundated. The walk back was a brutal, 12 kilometre slog, carrying heavy gear on uneven, sodden ground, constantly having to track around gullies either too deep or too wide to cross, with strong, north-easterly winds and frequently driving rain. I'd have done it five times over for views like that of such a mythical, enchanting beast though! While I appreciate pretty much all the wonders of nature (apart from Chickadees in Mist nets, which can do one), very few things have ever moved me quite as profoundly as my first ever Beluga. I was gliding over that flooded saltmarsh, at least for the first couple of kilometres. Then I was back to swearing like a sailor.
Dan and I arrived in just before sundown, to exchange stories with the other brave surveyors. We'd missed a Ringed Seal and a Parasitic Jaeger; both lovely, but a trifle compared to what we'd seen! Doug kindly shared his Whiskey, and I learnt the unspeakable delights of a Hot Scotchlate (Hot Chocolate with a half decent Single Malt) in a warm cabin, while listening to rain lash against the windows. Life could scarcely get better.

21 Aug
 Still pretty wild and windy, extreme tides and a quiet day all round.
Birding Highlights: Lesser Scaup x3, Osprey x1, American Golden Plover x1, Red Knot x70, Alder Flycatcher x3.
After a very intense day yesterday, and with surveys not necessary until late morning, I had a risky lie-in! Woke up hideously late (about 11!) to find some still warm pancakes under a plate, left by my unutterably lovely camp-mates. We saw very little of note today. While I neglected to fill in my diary for the day, I think godawful weather may have prevented us from doing a survey. A seawatch revealed a decent number of wildfowl and Red Knot moving north, with one American Golden Plover adult flying directly overhead. A quiet day, but useful recovery in between two exceptionally good ones (see below!)

22 Aug
A day with more highs and lows than the average soap opera love triangle. A Mind-boggling rarity, a lightning storm  and mosquitoes straight from the depths of hell all conspired into a most memorable day, in one way or another!
Birding Highlights- Shoveler-13, White-winged Scoter-1, Black Scoter-700, Bufflehead-2, Red-necked Grebe-1, American Bittern-1, Osprey-2, Sharp-shinned Hawk-1, Yellow Rail-1, American Golden Plover-3, Semipalmated Plover-300, Red Knot-1182, White-rumped Sandpiper-2000, Pectoral Sandpiper-500, Semipalmated Sandpiper-600, Baird's Sandpiper-1, Stilt Sandpiper-3, Short-billed Dowitcher-2, Red-necked Phalarope-1, (23 shorebird species in total!), Bonaparte's Gull-770, Common Nighthawk-1, Olive-sided Flycatcher-1, Philadelphia Vireo-2, Winter Wren-1, Cape May Warbler-2, Bay-breasted Warbler-3, Le Conte's Sparrow-1, Clay-coloured Sparrow-1, Common Redpoll-3, WILLET-1!!! 
It started gorgeously hot and very humid. With another afternoon survey being called for by the tide, Doug and I had a relaxed morning, birding around the cabin, where a few good passerines were moving through; a few Bay-breasted Warblers were my first of the season. Tringa Creek had witnessed a massive arrival of Pectoral Sandpiper, with over 500 present.

juvenile Pectoral Sandpiper on pools by Tringa Creek

I took a walk over West Bay to Limosa Creek while the others banded and Anne sampled inverts; seeing 3 Stilt Sandpiper, a Bufflehead and a few Short-billed Dowitcher and Red-necked Phalarope for my troubles. At about 11:30, I got a radio call from Doug, who'd found a Red-necked Grebe on the south shore of Longridge Point! While a species I've seen a fair few of on two continents, I've not seen many in high-breeding plumage this well, and it's a pretty uncommon bird in James Bay to boot. Buoyed by a good bird, Doug and I headed back to camp, to prepare for survey. We wouldn't be starting until about 3pm, and I at least had already walked about 10km already by this point. I was starting to think I'd be pretty knackered by the end of the survey. I didn't know the half of it.
Two problems presented themselves almost immediately. Firstly, my only pair of boots hadn't dried out at all since their flooding on the 20th, and by squelching about in them all day, I was starting to get seriously soggy feet. By the time I took my boots off, halfway through the survey, I noticed with some alarm that osmotic processes were having a less than desired effect on my feet. Namely, they were roughly the texture and appearance of a particularly wrinkled raisin, and there seemed a pretty acute risk of getting trenchfoot out here! I alleviated the problem somewhat by walking without socks, which at least reduced the dampness my feet were enduring inside the boots. The second problem was mosquitoes. Their numbers were only slightly above average, but both Doug and I concurred (in language that really shouldn't be reproduced here, but which I wish I could repeat due to our stunningly creative phrase coinage), that these were the most aggressive, tenacious little sons of something or other we'd yet come across. If I said I heard words that shocked me, that would be a lie. But I certainly heard words mixed together in ways that both surprised, impressed and delighted me. If there's one bright side to these utterly devilish insects, it's just how much entertainment can be had from listening to a foul-mouthed, 57 year old Canadian's reaction to them!
So, survey wasn't great so far, and problem number 3 was starting to rear its ugly head on the horizon. When I happened to turn around, there were some frankly apocalyptic clouds, looming menacingly about 10km to the north-west. The wind was a gentle, but not as gentle as I'd like, north-westerly. The swearing went up a notch, if that were even possible.
There are three main problems with being stuck in a lightning storm when surveying. The most obvious is that there is almost no cover, what with it being a mudflat, and the treeline being a good kilometre away. The second is that, on such a flat landscape, the top of your head is probably the fastest route for lightning to achieve its burning (quite literally) desire to reach the ground. The third is that, as a very metal free landscape, the lightning is likely to find its way towards anything that would be a good conductor of electricity. Carbon-fibre tripods are, I'm told, tremendous in this regard. Which is excellent news.
There was a fourth problem with the current predicament, owing entirely to my own throwing caution to the wind. After a week or so of taking enough clothes out with me for any weather conditions you could care to mention, I'd grown tired of carrying them all around in my daypack, or tied to my waist, while I boiled in the searing sun on exposed mudflats. Like the doze I am, I'd come out equipped for an electrical storm, a very sharp drop in temperature and torrential rain with nowt more than a thin wool jumper. Go figure! On the bright side, Doug was even more amused by my stoic jumper-wearing (and my calling it such a word, it'd be a sweater this side of the pond), in the face of near-certain doom, than I was by his rich and appalling vocabulary.
We did the best we could in surviving the storm. Our tripods were laid down a safe distance away from us, and we found the most sheltered location we could, in the lee of a washed up tree on the beach. By digging myself into the shingle a bit, roughly half my body was protected from the lashing, near horizontal rain, while the other half got a thorough soaking. For about half an hour we lay there, contemplating how exactly life had placed us in this unusual situation. On the bright side, the number of mosquitoes buzzing around each of us had decreased to only 50 or so, which was practically paradise.

some sons of something or other on yours truly. Note this photo was taken on a much more modest day, multiply the number of Mozzies by about 20 for days like the 22nd!

Soon enough, the storm passed. We were soaked, and almost as soon as the rain was finished, the Mosquitoes upped the ante even more. Writing this, having just showered in an actual bathroom, in a comfortable bed, with central heating and dry clothes and all those other luxuries, its hard for me to recollect just how uncomfortable and pissed off I felt in this exact moment. Despair was about to turn to triumph though...
Doug heard an odd, two-tone call. He said "that sounds a bit like a Marbled Godwit", and then three birds gave us a fly-by. The first was a Black-bellied Plover, the second a Knot, and the third something else altogether, and incredibly striking. Grey back, bold black and white wing pattern, dangling legs, thick bill, and very chunky looking. Doug shouted out first; "Holy crap, it's a Willet!". He then immediately swore some more, as some mosquitoes found their way between his eye and his binoculars. I managed to enjoy a decent view of this bird, a lifer and incredibly rare this far north, as it flew away from us and landed at the base of Pisquatchee Point.

Willet and Red-necked Grebe; inartistic impressions.

There were almost too many emotions to comprehend. On the one hand, the elation of finding something ludicrously unlikely (postscript; probably only the second or third ever for the Hudson bay area). On the other hand, we were soaking wet, chilled to the bone, exhausted and being eaten alive, and I at least was halfway to getting Trenchfoot. Despite having seen where the bird landed, and despite searching for it for over an hour (during which time we saw about 1100 Red Knot, the highest count I ever managed here), we never relocated it. But it was one of the most exciting moments of the whole trip, and one of my favourite sightings from my whole time in Canada.
It was nearly dark by the time we gave up on the search, defeated, exhausted but still elated. Given Doug has lived and breathed James Bay for almost 40 years, I tended to take his lead on whether a bird was a big deal or not, and he was absolutely buzzing for this one. I knew we'd found something special! The mosquitoes ate us alive, and once we were barely even that anymore, they ate us again. The walk home took about an hour, flushing up an American Bittern as we went. We didn't so much stroll into cabin triumphant as collapse into a foetal position, meekly sip beer and devour a meal cooked by the rest of the crew, and eventually, once we were somewhat dry, a bit less tired and a bit less eaten, started to reflect on what an extraordinary day it had been. I find, writing this blog about three months after everything happened, that I can hardly find enough to write about for some days. I can barely stop writing about this one! But, in the name of brevity, I suppose I should continue on to the next couple of days, which were all pretty special in their own way too.

23 Aug
Doug and I were both still recovering from the ordeals of yesterday, but fortunately the tide times were continuing to spare us early surveys. The highlights of the day were a Wolf, and my first views of Aurora borealis
Birding Highlights: Blue-winged Teal-9, Ring-necked Duck-1, Hudsonian Godwit-325, Stilt Sandpiper-5, Least Sandpiper-264, Pectoral Sandpiper-924, Short-billed Dowitcher-3, Wilson's Phalarope-3, Red-necked Phalarope-4, Baird's Sandpiper-1, Le Conte's Sparrow-1.
Another late start today, as Doug and I walked to Bear Point. We intended to start surveying here, then work our way back. The weather, as usual, had some tricks up its sleeve, as about an hour before the start of the survey, thick fog started billowing in off the bay, reducing visibility to about 40 feet! Pre-survey, we did have excellent views of a few Red-necked Phalarope and Stilt Sandpiper roosting at the base of Bear Point, and 3 Wilson's Phalarope, one in Tringa Creek that gave great views, and two flyovers.

juvenile Red-necked Phalarope with juvenile Semipalmated Sandpiper

Another unbelievable high tide, combined with fog that never really cleared made surveying very difficult. However, two gorgeous sightings resulted from the mist. The first was a Wolf that loomed into vision about 100 feet away, as the fog briefly parted. It allowed stunning scope views for a minute or so, before trotting off into the gloom. The second came when I heard the alarm call of a Least Sandpiper to my right. Glancing in that direction, I saw a young Northern Harrier, not even 50 yards away, that very briefly made itself visible as it quartered the marsh. It was hunting for roosting waders, almost caught one, and then, as quickly as it had appeared, it too was swallowed up by the mist. Both very eerie, atmospheric moments.
The tide can be stunningly fast here, so see below for a video. I promise you, it's the tide moving water that quickly, not a stream!

24 Aug
The weather was continuing to be wildly unpredictable. Today we had 40mph NE winds, rain that was frequently very strong, and a very high tide. We came as close as I ever got to being cut off by the tide, which was not fun! However, we were treated to the most stunning views of a Wolf yet, and some brilliant birding. It was a wild day to be out.
Birding highlights: Snow Goose-115, Blue-winged Teal-9, Shoveler-2, Bufflehead-1, Hooded Merganser-1, Pied-billed Grebe-1, Osprey-2, American Golden Plover-5, Solitary Sandpiper-1, Hudsonian Whimbrel-24, Red Knot-7, Baird's Sandpiper-3, White-rumped Sandpiper-3440, Buff-breasted Sandpiper-1, Short-billed Dowitcher-1, Caspian Tern-1, Merlin-5, Le Conte's Sparrow-3, Nelson's Sparrow-2, Clay-coloured Sparrow-3, Song Sparrow-2.
Survey wasn't due to start til 3pm today. I took advantage of this to do a bit of birding beforehand, although the weather tempered my enthusiasm a bit! A Pied-billed Grebe, found by Dan (I think!), on the Pond near the cabin, was an unusual record for the area. It was joined by a Hooded Merganser, which together with records from the previous few days (Ring-necked Duck, and small groups of Shoveler and Blue-winged Teal) represented a great run of scarce wildfowl for that little pond! While several species, such Snow and Canada Goose, Pintail, Mallard, Black Duck, Common and Red-breasted Mergansers, Black Scoter and Goldeneye were abundant and easy to see at Longridge, it was often hard work to get other wildfowl species.

(Top) the pond along the treebird trail
(Bottom) four eclipse Shoveler on the pond

The other highlight of the morning was an adult Baird's Sandpiper on the wrack. We also saw two juveniles of this species on survey, plus 3439 (approximately) adult and one (exactly) juvenile White-rumped Sandpiper. It was, by all accounts, pretty exceptional to get any adult Bairds (which are almost all gone by late July), or juvenile White-rumps (which are very uncommon until late September), so to get both age classes of both species, on the same day, is a very hard trick!
My other birding activity during the morning was to really study the Sparrows in the marsh. Specifically, I was trying to see how to tell the difference between Le Contes and Nelson's in flight, a skill that might be useful down at Long Point. * Other than that, this crappy day was an excellent excuse for us all to hunker down in the cabin, enjoying a leisurely breakfast of pancakes, work our way through the coffee and do a bit of baking! It was going to be an uncomfortable survey, so I figured I may as well have a comfortable start to the day.
Doug and I left the house at 13:30, aiming to get out to the tip of Longridge by 15:00, two and a half hours before high tide. There are several low points on the spit, which can create impassable crossings on a high tide. When we reached the outermost one at 14:30, about a kilometre and a half from the tip, we realised it was already near enough impossible to get across. We probably could have done it, but given the tide still had another three hours to go, we'd either risk drowning to get back, or be stuck at the very end, with no shelter, til long past sunrise. Displaying uncanny pragmatism, we opted for a partial survey. The tip of Longridge could be done another day!

Longridge breached

We walked out as far as we could on our side of the impasse, intending to start our survey. That was when I noticed, about 100 metres away, a figure that had been hunkered down in the shingle and was now sprinting along the top of the ridge. I immediately realised we'd surprised a Wolf! Being stuck between us and the Bay, the only option it had was to loop the shallower north side of Longridge, allowing us our best, most prolonged views of Wolf yet. It was on view for 4-5 minutes before, feeling s safe distance away, it started trotting carefree over the mudflats, still visible in the scope. In a remarkable moment of prescience, I'd even taken my camera on survey today. I'd been gutted to miss a stunning photo opportunity of the Beluga, but this made up for it.

Wolfie!

The survey back was, despite squalid conditions, excellent. Huge flocks of White-rumped Sandpiper, pushed off the flats by the monstrous tide, were flying up Longridge to find somewhere safe to roost. The 3440 we counted today was among my highest count of this species. A Buff-breasted Sandpiper also gave fantastic views towards the base of Longridge. By this point, I'd already flooded my boots twice on two of the deep gullies, so my feet were wet and freezing! My walk back to shelter and warmth, once we'd finished the survey, was hurried.
It was a wonderful day though. Indeed, though I certainly put myself through some exhausting days at James Bay, these tend to be the one I look back on with the most fondness. It's a strange mixture of my love of anything wild and exciting, the fantastic wildlife that seemed to coincide with such days, and maybe just a hint of the feeling it was all quite character building. I also think, having worked night shifts in care homes for the months prior to my departure, living around a rather irregular sleep cycle, that it was wonderful to be so tired each night that you could hardly fail to sleep soundly!

*postscript- I saw one Ammodramus Sparrow at Long Point, I saw it in flight only, and unsurprisingly I didn't identify it. Clearly, I need more practise!

25 Aug
The tide times had shifted enough that we could finally go back to an early survey of Pisquatchee. Quite how in the mood I was for an early survey on this morning, I don't remember, but I'm sure I took a bit of coaxing to be roused! A quieter day than previous ones, but still excellent.
Birding highlights: Snow Goose-180, White-winged Scoter-1, Pied-billed Grebe-1, Osprey-1, American Golden Plover-3, Red Knot-21, Pectoral Sandpiper-630, Wilson's Phalarope-1, Red-necked Phalarope-4, Caspian Tern-1, PARASITIC JAEGER-1, Black-and-White Warbler-1, Le Conte's Sparrow-1, Nelson's Sparrow-5, Clay-coloured Sparrow-1, Dark-eyed Junco-1, White-winged Crossbill-2, Common Redpoll-4.
The day's obvious highlight came early in the morning as Pisquatchee. Doug and I found an adult male Parasitic Jaeger (Arctic Skua if you're in Europe), that gave chase to a number of birds; Bonaparte's Gulls, Common Terns, it even pursued a Pectoral Sandpiper to a height of about 300 metres! Using a "squeaking" technique (pursing your lips together to make a noise that supposedly sounds like struggling prey), Doug lured it in to give us a flyby, so cloe you could almost touch it. It then carried on tracking the shoreline south, heading down towards the southern Atlantic to while away the long winter months.
Not much else notable was around today, but there was an obvious increase in Pectoral Sandpipers. I got some valuable ageing lessons from Doug on these birds. Unlike most other waders, Pecs are not all that easy to age by plumage, but with an appreciation of feather wear, become far more simple. The upperpart and wing feathers of juvenile are very fresh, bright and rounded, having grown in only a month or so ago in August. The adults, by contrast, have been wearing the same feathers since at least March, so they tend to look dull, frayed and as pointed as knaves.

nice, fresh juvenile Pectoral Sandpiper

Once survey was over, I suddenly had the prospect of a whole afternoon to myself (basic chores associated with communal living aside). My attempts at finding good birds in West Bay failed pretty quickly (as much due to tiredness as anything). It was a stunning evening though, the bad weather of the past few days had cleared through, and James Bay looked simply glorious.

26 Aug
A poignant day, as it was my last full day with Doug and Anne, both leaving on the crew change tomorrow. Gorgeous light for photography on Doug and I's survey of West Bay, which was also notable for loads (relatively speaking) of Stilt Sandpiper.
Birding Highlights; Bufflehead-4, Pied-billed Grebe-1, American Golden Plover-4, Hudsonian Godwit-120, Stilt Sandpiper-9, Dunlin-85, White-rumped Sandpiper-4224, Pectoral Sandpiper-1040, Semipalmated Sandpiper-814, Buff-breasted Sandpiper-1, Short-billed Dowitcher-5, Wilson's Phalarope-2, Red-necked Phalarope-2, Great Horned Owl-1, Least Flycatcher-4, Winter Wren-1, Magnolia Warbler-1, Le Conte's Sparrow-1, Clay-coloured Sparrow-1.

two juvenile Stilt Sandpipers with juvenile Semipalmated Sandpipers

The clear, calm night allowed an obvious arrival of shorebirds. Alongside a great Stilt Sandpiper count (this is a pretty scarce species in James Bay, I don't think either of our other field camps recorded a single one all season!), we got our highest counts to date of White-rump, Pectoral and Semipalmated Sandpiper, and Dunlin were starting to arrive in good numbers. I also saw one of only three Buff-breasted Sandpipers that allowed good, prolonged views on the deck, during the whole season.  Not much else was seen during the day, and we enjoyed a fun evening. It's probably fair to say that my beer supply at the start of the season, intended to last the whole month, was not rationed out fairly over both two week periods, and this night (among many others), was no doubt to blame! But as my final night with two great new friends, I figured it as good a time as any to dry the supply.
Late that evening, the mournful calls of a Great Horned Owl echoed across the marsh; the first time I'd ever heard one.

Doug Mcrae, proprietor-in-chief of the James Bay mudflats

So that's the end of this edition! The next two weeks were probably less eventful than the first two, but nontheless wonderful. I'll continue regaling you all with stories shortly...