Today my wife and I took a drive along the beach at Island Beach State Park in New Jersey. I drove to the end of the park's road and entered the beach as only allowed by four-wheel drive vehicles with sport fishing permits. There was a mild south to southeasterly wind, and I was hoping to find some shearwaters or storm-petrels close to shore. I drove to the terminus of the park at the north side of Barnegat Inlet. For a while I scanned the ocean on both sides of the inlet, but there were no pelagic birds that I could see. There were no new migrants, just many of the expected locals. An eBird list for the spot was filled with the usuals: great black-backed, herring and laughing gulls; common terns, osprey, double-crested cormorants, American oystercatchers, black-bellied plovers, sanderlings, ruddy turnstones and semipalmated plovers and sandpipers. I took a slow drive north up the beach, occasionally scanning the peep flocks on the beach and the ocean for anything interesting. The ocean was calm but seemed void of shearwaters and storm-petrels. I did pick out a lingering red-throated loon sitting on the ocean though. I could not pick out a white-rumped sandpiper amongst the sanderlings, however I did see a group of seven red knots foraging along the beach near the surf.
Red knots at Island Beach State Park. © S. Weiss
Before we left the beach, I was able to pick out a very distant Wilson's storm-petrel out over the ocean. Barely visible with binoculars, it was doing its storm-petrel thing: flying erratically over the ocean, bouncing off the surface. But it was prior to this, as I was driving up the beach, I noticed a black clump on the sand near the water. I backed up and knew it was a deceased bird of some sort. I come across such natural sights more than I would prefer. In the past I have found deceased great shearwaters, loons and some sea ducks and alcids. In the winter, a headless sea bird on the beach tells me that a snowy owl maybe in the area. Last year, during an historic incursion, I found several half-eaten dovekies, probably the work of great black-backed gulls. Anyway, as soon as I saw this dead bird's head, I noticed its tubenose. The tubenose is a physical trait of birds in the family, Procellariidae. I rolled it over and spread out its wings. It was all black, its wings were long and pointed with some silvery coloring on the undersides. I knew then it was a sooty shearwater. This one seemed so small compared to the graceful, gliding ones I usually see either on a fishing boat or a pelagic birding vessel. A mile or so up the beach I found yet another sooty in the same fateful condition.
Sooty Shearwater off of Ocean County, 2021. © S. Weiss
The birds were intact. I found no open wounds or bites on them, no blood-soaked wings. My best amateur autopsy guess is that they likely died exhausted on their migration, possibly younger birds, I'm not sure. Sooty shearwaters are near the top of the long-distance migrants list. During the year they traverse the Atlantic and Pacific oceans for thousands of miles in a clockwise direction. The Atlantic population leaves the breeding colonies from places like the Falkland Islands and make their way along the western Atlantic. Late May to early June is when they are most often seen off of New Jersey. They continue their journey north past eastern Canada, then across the northern Atlantic and then back south along the eastern Atlantic. The journey brings them back to their breeding locations around November. This incredible migration journey is, I believe, second only to the Arctic Tern.
Deceased sooty shearwater, Island Beach State Park, June 3, 2022. © S. Weiss
Close-up of shearwater's head. The tubenose is located at the top of the hooked-bill at the base of the head. It is possible that the tubenose may help these birds excrete salt from ingested sea water, and an olfactory aid in detecting food on the open ocean. © S. Weiss
Thus, these poor birds only made less than half of their journey before dying here in New Jersey. I constantly remind myself that this is nature, part of what scientists call the cycle of life. These birds didn't die in vain, they taught me something and gave me a greater appreciation of how they live.
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