Frozenscapes

 By Keith Michael

Good for you for not looking at the photos first to ruin your surprise!

First, there was the January teaser snow storm. Next came the January big snow storm. Then, the February Hudson River ice moved in. I couldn’t get enough of the ice. Whenever I could, I layered on my thermals, leaned into the wind, and walked over to the river to watch the changing tide. Sloshing pancakes. Jagged sheets. Undulating puzzle pieces. I wanted to see the ice at sunrise and see the lights of downtown ricochet off the ice packs after dark. I rode the Staten Island Ferry twice to clock the accumulation of harbor ice, walked along Brooklyn Bridge Park to see the clog in the East River went to the top of One World Trade Center for the panoramic view of the white necklace around Manhattan, and traipsed from Hoboken to Port Imperial for even more icy vistas. It’s fair to say that I was obsessed. Yes, I even took the train up along the Hudson River to see epic ice around Croton Point, Oscawana, George’s Island, Montrose, and Verplanck.

I’ve championed this before: the Hudson River around Croton Point and further north is prime winter Bald Eagle viewing territory—particularly when there’s ice on the river. And, wow, this year there’s been ice on the river and eagles have been on the ice! Dozens of eagles. Darker, young eagles. Shaggy, dappled-with-white juvenile eagles. Nearly adult eagles with their new grownup white head feathers still muddied with brown. Full glistening, white-headed, white-tailed adults. The ice flows on the open water are prime fishing real estate. If you’re an eagle conserving winter energy, you fly upriver, alight on an ice flow, then take the lazy boat to eye the water as you float downstream. Spot a fish? Lunch is only a few feet away rather than having to dive from hundreds of feet above the water. I tip my knitted cap to them.

However, catching a fish does not engender generosity amongst your eagle colleagues. The battle is on. Here, the plundering of a sushi luncheon on the ice. There, a scrappy aerial dogfight. Across the way, an eviction from a choice observation perch. It’s not only eagles in the fray. I watched a dexterous winter duck, the Common Merganser, catch a humongous fish. The moment it surfaced to swallow its prize, other mergansers rushed him. Seeing the tussle, a nearby Great Blue Heron dove into the icy water. I’d never seen a heron dive like that! Having sideswiped the merganser underwater, both came up empty-billed. The heron dove again, this time snagging the fish. Score. But. A young eagle saw THAT commotion and mustered a feint and parry counter-attack on the heron. Somehow the Great Blue Heron reigned victorious and made off with the trophy. For that eagle, it was back to the ice flow waiting game. Having grown up when Bald Eagles were destined for extinction, and now, jostling for front row seats for this spectacle — I’m thrilled.

 But, zooming back to the West Village. All of those walks to the river yielded a steady, though harried, parade of blizzard birds. The snow, the ice, the wind, and the fiercely low temperature was slamming them. Desperate to find food, the Canada Geese struggled with all of the lawns frozen over. Perching on lampposts, American Kestrels scoped out likely meals. Gulls scavenged the jostling ice flows. Black Ducks, Mallards, and Gadwalls were all gleaning what they could from the rocks and pier pilings. Conversely, like the eagles further north, groups of punky-coifed Red-breasted Mergansers were doing just fine plying the open water. Mergansers are diving ducks and the edges of their bills are serrated to grasp slippery fish. Watching them repeatedly dive into the frigid water does make me shiver, as well as wonder, “How do they do that and what does it look like under the ice to them?” Ah, there’s a stylish Hooded Merganser pair slaloming through the Pier 49 pile field. Their flamboyant wedge-shaped feather-dos—his in formal black and white, hers in plush velvet brown—are always eye-catching. The wind is ripping through me now. Even I need to get back inside.

Wait. Hooded Mergansers? Yes, I’ve seen them all around NYC in winter, in every borough, but have I ever seen one in Hudson River Park in the West Village? I warmed up just dashing home to check My West Village List. Checked it. Checked it twice. Checked it thrice. Nope. Hooded Merganser is NOT on it. Verdict. New West Village Bird #120: Hooded Merganser! Woo woo.

Four days, and acres of ice later, entering the park at West 11th Street, I ran into a friend walking her dog. Seeing me decked out in my binoculars and camera, she asked, “What are you hoping to see today?” That was easy, “A Bald Eagle.” I’d been hearing of multiple eagle sightings in Inwood, at Dyckman Street, at 125th Street, and at the 79th Street Boat Basin. Surely, an eagle could just sally forth down here, right? “Well, good luck,” she bid as we parted. Less than 30 seconds later, I looked up, and there was a soaring, mottled brown, young eagle, right over Perry Street! My friend was already out of shouting distance. Once that eagle drifted out of sight, upon quickly scanning the river ice — there was a second one! I knew that a Bald Eagle wasn’t previously on My List because I’d been hoping to see one for years, and I even knew what number it would be. My New West Village Bird #121: Bald Eagle. Oh, yeah. 

While the ice lasted, astonishingly, I had a total of SEVENTEEN West Village eagle sightings. And. Five days later, a THIRD New West Village Bird showed up—in just over a week! But you’re going to have to wait until next month to find out about that one. Surprise.