Worlds Apart

Temperature in the low 20's, another blizzard in the forecast, of course this was a great morning to walk the beach on the outer Cape.  There was one other lonely car in the parking lot.  I pulled on my hooded parka awkwardly while sitting in the front seat and made sure I had notebook, pen, camera and binoculars at the ready.  Much of this checking of gear admittedly was a form of procrastination. Who really wants to walk the beach in such ghastly weather?

Coast Guard Beach mid-February

The path down to the shore was a glaze of ice, packed solid by other intrepid walkers after previous snows.  So many of us are drawn to see the pounding spray of surf even on the worst of days.  I stepped carefully trying for patches of untrodden snow to insure traction.

The first bird of the day was a scraggly crow who greeted me rudely with hoarse gravelly caws from the roof of the old Coast Guard storage building.  I didn't feel welcome.

I burst unexpectedly onto the beach from the narrow eroded path between the dunes and surprised a coyote (actually a coywolf common on the Cape these days) who was trotting down the shore in my direction.  He stopped, stiffened and startled.  We stared eye to eye for a brief moment.  He turned abruptly and bounded back the way he had come, invisible in the dunes within seconds.  We clearly come from different worlds, I out of my cozy living room with a gas-fireplace and he always in this cold, unforgiving wildness.

Coast Guard Beach mid-February

The winter beach has a bruised and battered look, well-earned through harsh nor'easters.  The relentless storm-driven breakers have done their work this season.  The clinging dune grasses have lost a few more feet to the sea.  Waves are creeping slowly toward the old Coast Guard station.

Eroding dunes in front of the old Coast Guard Station

Walking was easy, the sand packed hard and partly frozen, the footing unusually firm.  I concentrated on quick strides in the attempt to keep warm and reached the southern end of the spit in a short half hour.  The appearance here has changed markedly from the summer.  The southern one-third of the spit has been over-washed in the surges of recent storms and looks fragile and forlorn.

Sanderlings mining the flats    February

But there is life on this desolate sandscape.  Delicate sanderlings were pecking at the surf in their hurried way.  They are loyal to these frigid sand flats through all the cold months.  Somehow they survive.  I stopped for a quick picture, despite the chilling wind.

Hesitant killdeer on the frozen marsh

I returned on the inside of the spit along the frozen edge of the marsh.  Here I met a lone killdeer who looked lost and bewildered on this Cape imitation of tundra.  He was hesitant to go as if curious about the world I had come from.

Northern harrier on the prowl

Further on, a northern harrier glided over the sparse dune grasses.  He paid no attention to me as I fumbled to focus my camera.  I was hoping that he didn't have a searching eye on the innocent killdeer.  But he seemed to already have something within his claws.

I hurried back to the car ahead of the approaching afternoon storm.  The wind had become narrow and biting.  Having briefly visited the harsh winter world of coywolf and bird, I was thankful that I could return to a cup of steaming hot chocolate in front of the fire.