The American Oystercatcher Breeding Season

     

   On May 12th, I finally heard about the location of a mated pair of American Oystercatchers, A bird I had never seen before, but had wanted to photograph for a while. The location of these birds is usually kept very quiet by birders because of how sensitive these birds can be in the breeding season. People may step on the bird's perfectly camouflaged eggs, or harass the birds for photos.

On that afternoon, I decided to check out the spot. I do not want to reveal the exact location, but I will say that it is at a rocky beach (their preferred habitat), in Massachusetts. When I parked, and walked down to the water, I spotted the pair's bright red beaks almost immediately. They were walking along shoreline, feeding on periwinkles.

My method for photographing shorebirds is to lie down along the shoreline, motionless, and wait for them to come to me. It is much less comfortable than standing, especially when the beach is made of jagged rocks and barnacles, but getting to eye level really makes for better shots.

...My strategy was paying off, and the pair seemed to forget that I was there. They got closer and closer, foraging for small invertebrates. Eventually, they were only about 6 feet away, and I was surprised to see the male lift up his head, and start whistling and calling loudly behind the female...

he then made his move, and the pair mated for a few seconds. I was incredibly lucky to see this behavior after spending so little time with them. I took 2 photos, neither of which captured the event as well as I wanted. Too zoomed in! I spent a few hours editing them together in photopea, and finally had an image that showed the full scene.

Only a minute after this happened, the pair decided to fly out to a distant jetty, and I did not see them again for a while. I found some piping plovers in a fenced off area of the beach, preparing for nesting, as well as on the shoreline, looking for washed-up crustaceans.

I decided to check out the second pair, that was supposed to be living at the end of the beach. My Digital Photography teacher at Framingham High School, Mr. Blaschke had apparently lived nearby this beach a long time ago, and told me that there was a banded pair living in a tide pool at the end of the beach. The female was said to have had a leg band that had a number 25 on it, being named "Miss 25" Pretty much as I arrived at the tide pool, I was met by the pair, flying in from the ocean...

They then split up, with the male guarding the nest from both me, and the occasional seagull that would try to land too close to the nest...

His female, "Miss 25" waded around for a bit in the tide pool, trying to catch dinner.

The male returned to feeding once the pair became comfortable with my presence.

I then spent a few minutes with the first pair again, as the sun set. I was trying to get a cool back lit shot, but it wasn't working out.

I decided not to come back for a while, to respect the birds space, and to make the nesting season less stressful for the birds. I returned to the beach on June 16th. I did not see a pair near the entrance, where I had found the first pair back in May. I started wandering down the beach, and I found a few least terns hanging out at the water's edge, taking a break from fishing.

They were more skittish than I expected though...

I was very surprised to find the UNBANDED pair in the tide pool at the end of the beach. Before, that territory had belonged to the banded pair. I hope Miss 25 and her mate are still alive. This is the unbanded female...

            She was standing guard, similarly to how the male had been standing guard back in May. She seemed to be communicating with another unseen oystercatcher over the ridge. I went around her, and as expected, found the male foraging along the water's edge.

The pair seemed to be intentionally sticking to that one section of the beach, not moving along freely as they had done before. They also took turns violently attacking all gulls that flew over the tide pool...

I had a feeling that the pair had young nearby. Just then, I noticed a little fluffball, weaving through the boulders, where waves were crashing. The male oystercatcher was leading his chick. Soon, the chick noticed me, and began hiding behind rocks, trying to push the limits of its camouflage. 

After it realized that I wasn't moving anywhere, it became more comfortable, and stepped out from behind the rock. This took about 10 minutes.