Hurricane Sandy in Cape May

H. Sandy clouds still over the Delaware Bay

Gladys with the Storm at Sea quilt

I started Hurricane Sandy Week just outside Trenton, predicting that if the storm was as bad as the weather forecasters were saying, I wouldn't see work on Monday or Tuesday. The hurricane, they said, would join forces with a Nor'Easter and a cold front, and as the week went on H. Sandy was predicted to make landfall at my original home of Cape May, New Jersey. The hurricane winds were frightening and brought with them strange noises (trees and limbs falling), and finally, darkness. I had candles and flashlights ready and pep-talked myself into making the best of the situation. We ran the generator from time to time creating intermittent power and wifi, but that thing takes a lot of gas and makes a lot of noise. I was able to gather some news from those few hours of television news and 3G social media sources. It turned out that the Central Jersey, Staten Island, and Lower Manhattan coasts took the full force of the storm, while Cape May was largely spared. My work was closed all week because the hurricane traveled inland and wreaked havoc in Bucks County and other southeastern Pennsylvania locations. This was a blessing for those of us sitting on couches without power as the shocking images of the Jersey Shore became public. 

I shared on Facebook whatever news of Cape May I could find since almost everyone who knew I had a connection there was asking how we fared. Exit Zero and Cape May Times turned out to be the most reliable and informative. This was impressive: the staff of Exit Zero offered to email photographs for properties for homeowners who couldn't get away to check on them.They must have understood the anxiety we face owning a beloved, memory-filled home so far from where we live.  Slowly it became apparent that although there was some flooding, some damage, and a whole lot of sand piled up in town, Cape May did pretty well. At the same time, though, we were seeing the pictures of a devastated coast just a little bit to the north. Could it be that Cape May really dodged a bullet? I had to drive down to see for myself and check on our family's house.

There's a path in there somewhere.

It's all good news, really. The house is fine, and I suspect maybe power never went out here at all. The flowerpots I thought may have turned into projectiles in the hurricane winds were just where I left them. There were branches and trees down here and there, but the kids around here were already back in school for a couple days. After checking around the house and finding no damage, I took Gladys for a walk on the bay beach where we walk all the time. There has been some erosion, and our usual path from the street through the dunes now contains a small (two-foot) cliff. Some paths  are unusable with five- or six-foot cliffs, and some were untouched. I had to walk the whole length of our usual baywalk in spite of the wind and cold just to prove to myself it was okay and to reclaim it from H. Sandy. (And it was windy!)

Gladys actually likes the wind.

Some stores were closed.

Next on my agenda was a trip into Cape May City. This favorite place was evacuated before the storm and people were not let back until the flooding went down and all was safe. News must not have gotten out that Cape May was reopened, because I had the shops to myself! I shopped a little, but mainly walked around town reassuring myself that all is okay. People I met were eager to share stories and learn about the Trenton and Bucks County areas, and what I saw on my way down to the shore. (No, I had no trouble and no, I didn't wait in long gas station lines like they saw on TV. All of NJ is not like that. I had luckily filled my tank just before the storm.) They were hungry for a broader perspective. Curiously, some seemed unaware of the magnitude of the damage less than an hour north. I chatted with one woman as she decorated her beautiful, damage-free inn for Christmas, blissfully clueless. On a brighter note, and these are just the things I know about, the Washington Street Mall merchants have committed to donating ten percent of their profits for the next month, and Captain Ginny of the Skimmer Salt Marsh Safari is running three salt marsh cruises tomorrow to benefit the Red Cross. We'll be on the 1:30. It seems the birding is fantastic these days.

That lake behind the Arcade is not supposed to be there.

The Cape May beach showed the most H. Sandy damage. There was water where sand was supposed to be, and sand all over the Promenade and streets. Some of the first amazing photos to come out of Cape May showed six feet of sand being removed from the streets on the east end of town. The sand on the beach moved. The volleyball nets now look like really narrow tennis nets,

Those are supposed to be volleyball nets at Steger's Beach.

and the stand that rents chairs and umbrellas in the summer was almost completely buried. 

Steger's umbrella and chair rental stand is buried in that crusty alien sand.

There's a new berm created by erosion, giving my familiar beach spot a whole new look. 

A new bump in the beach.

The sand is not the fluffy kind we're used to in Cape May, but a flat, hard, crusty, alien variety. I figure the massive rain hardened it and the wind flattened it.

So that's it, my H. Sandy Cape May update. We were darn lucky in Cape May and Trenton. My heart goes out to those neighbors to the north facing unimaginable, sickening loss. New Jersey will rebuild the shore it is so proud of, but for now there's the anxiety and grief through which there is no shortcut.

Chicks and Pics Yesterday on the Skimmer Salt Marsh Safari

I know, I know, I have posted about this tour before. Each visit to the salt marsh is different, though, and yesterday's highlights included baby birds and some decent photos of the usual suspects. So, scroll through my favorite shots and if you go to Cape May County anytime before Novemberish, do pay Cap'n Ginny and Cap'n Ed a visit on the Skimmer Salt Marsh Safari! (Tell em' MargaretMontet sent ya.)

You don't see a Double-Crested Cormorant every day, so here's one displaying his wings.

This Great Black-Backed Gull wants you to notice his red "upchuck button" on his beak. The chicks push that button, and out pops pre-chewed baby gull food.

Look in that rusty frame and there's a Herring Gull chick. We were exploring the dock side of some of Cape May's seafood processing plants yesterday on the Skimmer for a different perspective.

His yellow feet indicate that this is a Snowy Egret (rather than a Great Egret who would have black feet).

Here's an Osprey nest with a mom (right) and her chicks.

This American Oystercatcher is looking for Razor Clams.

This is a Laughing Gull with her chick hiding behind her. This shot also shows the layers of the bog--each layer represents a year in the bog's life.

"Hey! You! Get off of my shoal!" A Snowy Egret visits a Great Black-Backed Gull.

This guy wants you to stay away from his boat. (But y'all come back soon!)

Getting to Know the Birds Who Live in the Marsh: Skimmer Salt Marsh Safari

A Black Skimmer, left, and a Laughing Gull at the marsh

I count myself among the world's worst bird watchers, but I don't lack enthusiasm for the avocation. Usually, I look at the birds through my camera's longer lens and shoot a few photos that I will compare to the illustrations in my bird guides later on. Occasionally, I will treat myself to a guided birding excursion where experts tell me what I'm looking at. My favorite of these excursions is the Skimmer Salt Marsh Safari, between Cape May and Wildwood Crest. (The Skimmer is named after a bird, see photo.) Captain Ginny and Captain Ed know where to find the most interesting birds, and they describe them in ways that help us less adept birders remember who's who.

Take for example the first birds we saw yesterday, the Laughing Gulls. These guys come here to nest and raise their chicks. As many species do, they fix up their appearance in order to attract the best possible mate. Their heads turn black as if they'd visited their expert colorist, and they appear to put on white eyeliner. As I mentioned in my two previous posts about the lighthouse full moon climb and the horseshoes on the beach, the full moon occurred Monday. This was good news for the Friends of the Lighthouse and the Delaware Bay horseshoes, but sad news indeed for the Laughing Gull community. They had prepared their nest in the salt marsh grass, laid their eggs, and then extra-high tides from the full moon and windy weather washed them all away. Heartbreaking! When we cruised by, we could see them busily rebuilding nests to attempt another go at families.

This Laughing Gull is carrying nesting material to his/her new home.

My father always loved seeing egrets because they reminded him of his childhood in Louisiana. They still seem exotic to me even though I see them often around these parts. This is a Snowy Egret, and you can see his yellow feet. We saw many of these yesterday, and many Great Egrets who have yellow bills and black feet. (Now will I remember that?)

"I am a Snowy Egret and I have yellow feet."

 

 

An Osprey couple in their nest

The Osprey are easy to identify because they build their huge nests up high, usually, and you can usually see the mom hanging up there with chicks or eggs. The father might be up there, too, but he might be spotted nearby. There are around a dozen Osprey nests in the marsh, remarkable if you remember how the Ospreys were endangered not so long ago. The use of the pesticide DDT in the 1960s and 1970s caused their eggs to get too soft, and chicks could not mature. Awareness was raised by Rachel Carson's book Silent Spring, and eventually DDT was banned. Happily, the Osprey population recovered. The full moon tides were unkind to some of the Osprey pairs in the marsh--those that built their nests too low lost their eggs. Unlike the Laughing Gulls, they are not able to re-nest this year and now are just hanging around until it is time to fly south.

The Oystercatcher is the coolest marsh bird, just because of its bright orange bill. I'm pretty sure I heard Captain Ginny say that these Oystercatchers don't actually eat oysters here, but the long, skinny razor clams. They pop the razor clam shell open with their long orange bill and eat the yummy clam from inside. It takes awhile for the kids to learn this trick, and Captain Ginny reports that they often see the young ones with razor clams stuck to their bills looking a bit like Pinocchio!

An Oystercatcher shows off his carrot-like bill.

Captain Ginny and Captain Ed don't just teach us about birds in the marsh. At one point, they scooped up a clump of brown seaweed and examined what was living in it. There was a brown speckled Laughing Gull egg, two kinds of tiny shrimp, and two kinds of mussels. Near the end of the trip, Captain Ed pulled out a plastic tub full of marsh life: a large rock crab, sea squirts (they do squirt water when feeling threatened), three kinds of welks (I thought they were conchs but conchs do not live in NJ), and more crabs and critters whose names I do not remember.

Captain Ginny shows us a tiny shrimp that lives in marsh seaweed (photo by Cara Cotellese)

The Skimmer Salt Marsh Safari is a fine way to spend a couple hours at the shore and learn about those marshes we drive past everyday. I'm getting better with my bird identification skills, at least with those that live in the marsh!

Me and Cara on the 40-foot Skimmer (photo by Captain Ginny)