Bank Swallows and . . .

The past few days have been very active over the marsh but when I went down there this morning -- after two days of northeast winds and a decided drop in the temperature -- there was nothing flying. Then, as the sun began to poke tentatively through the clouds, a dozen or so Bank Swallows suddenly appeared, zipping around like the miniature torpedos that they resemble. The classic way to tell Bank Swallows is from the picture in the book: brown on top with a paler rump, white below with a distinct breast band. But almost none of that is very easy to discern as the birds race around their air space. What is easy to see is the torpedo shape, small size with a short tail, the shallow, fast wingbeats and the darting style of flight -- aerial Browning movements.

Where do these Bank Swallows come from? In the past few days, they have even more numerous than the Barn Swallows, Purple Martins and Chimney Swifts which have been feeding on the no-see-ums and other marsh insect outbreaks. Are they local nesters? Bank Swallows nest colonially in sand banks (in Britain and elsewhere they are called Sand Martins) and, in our area, the usual place to find them is near the high, eroded banks facing the Peconic/Gardiners bay system; they also nest in the sand cliffs at Montauk. There might be sand dunes somewhere stable enough to harbor a South Shore colony or perhaps they have set up housekeeping in sand mines in the moraine. Yesterday, I was surprised to see Bank Swallows riding the wind storm and even landing on the sand flats at Mecox where I went to look for phalaropes (successfully). Maybe all these coastal Bank Swallows are late migrants moving to locations in Newfoundland and Labrador (according to most range maps, Bank and Tree Swallows seem to be the most northerly nesting swallows)?

As readers of this blog will know, two adult Bald Eagles were here on Sunday, pretty much all day. I didn't see them yesterday but this morning there was a large raptor sitting in a pine tree on Pine Neck and being hassled by crows. I couldn't see any details (such as a white head) and by the time I ran back to the house for the scope and then back down to the water to set up, both the raptor and its hasslers were gone. Then this afternoon, just before the rain started, I wandered down to the water, scanned the opposite shore and, lo and behold, found a Bald Eagle asittin' on a tree quite out in the open, white head in perfect view and not a nagging crow in sight.

Eric Salzman