Wednesday early is the last crack at the 200 I’ll have for awhile, with a looming work trip to Virginia. I figure my best chance will be the last few nights on the antenna, so I head up the mountain not longer after 6 AM. Swirling flakes at the bottom, in the upper twenties, becomes a goldenrod bender of sorts at the garage.
Having gotten the Northern Saw-whet Owl for #199 last Saturday, the best shots at reaching 200 this year are now:
Evening Grosbeak (seen or recorded)
Bonaparte’s Gull (seen or NFC)
American Black Duck (seen)
Snow Bunting / Lapland Longspur (NFC)
any other missing waterfowl.
Bond. Pair Bond.
With time to spare, I park at the bridge and then walk rapidly down to the pond. Nothing is stirring but muskrats. I skirt the far end and then circle back to the near end, scrambling down to the shore for a clear line of sight, in case I’ve missed anything.
7:15. Nothing. Light is hard to come by even by 7:25, and I consider giving up. The Mallards must have moved on. Then, on the umpteenth rescan of distant vegetation, I realize that several Mallards have magically appeared. The reason soon becomes apparent: they are dropping straight down out of the sky in pairs and small groups. Most are a few hundred yards away, but several alight closer, too intent on their own pair bonding antics to pay me heed.
By 7:30, dozens of ducks have shown up, and the water is alive with thrashing birds. Some are chasing, while other pair off head to head, bobbing up and down. And then I see it: a pair of somewhat larger and definitely darker shapes. I’d swear they’re black ducks, but I’m too far away for a definitive ID.
The near Mallards spot me as I reach behind for the long lens, and take off in a racket to join the rest of the 40-odd ducks at the far end. I backpedal up the gravel scree and then head stealthily back along the tracks to get as close as I can without scaring them away.
No doubt about it: Plummer’s Hollow #200 for 2023 is a pair of American Black Ducks!
A train comes and I have to duck into the vegetation for a bit. The Black Ducks, the Mallards, and the continuing Green-winged Teal feel that I’m too close for comfort (never mind the giant machine roaring above me), so they fly on down to the end I just came from.
The ABDUs have stayed together, dabbling in the duckweed in close association with the Mallards.
If I had had to pick the one species I imagined would be number 200, this would be it. Every year, one or two show up here in November, so the time was right.
The Icing on the Cake
I’m going to be late for work. On the rapid walk back to the car, creeping up on eight, Dark-eyed Juncos flit along the tracks in front of me while American Goldfinches and a Pine Siskin twitter overhead, out of sight. A juvenile Bald Eagle circles above the entrance to the Hollow, and the first American Crows and Blue Jays start up their rackets.
Congrats! This is amazing.