The sea whipped up spit from furious breakers of tremendous size and power crashing them into rocks yielding white frothy foam. While each wave pounded the beach, bitter winter winds blew in flocks of twisting, tilting, tattered gulls from horizons unknown.

For a birder who does not visit the sea often enough, I had sure picked a banner day to look for coastal birds. My pants legs snapped violently, the way flags do in gale force winds, and my jacket felt as if it were wide open, providing insufficient warmth and protection against the cold. Yet while enduring this I found a peculiar feeling of invigoration.

I was hoping to spot something rare, something unlikely as, say, a harlequin duck. There probably aren't many more than a few hundred anywhere along the southern New England coast, but I thought I might try for it. In years past, they were known to turn up along the Middletown, Rhode Island shore.

Though harlequin ducks may have been a long-shot, the winter coast does provide an opportunity for some unexpected visitors, especially in unsettled conditions. There is an opportunity to see Arctic sea ducks without long-distance travel north.

Instead, I saw gulls. There were just gulls everywhere. They seemed to be enjoying the challenge of staying on course in the gale or were otherwise amused by the excuse to fly off course.

There were noble black-backed gulls skimming the crest of the waves far off shore. I couldn't really tell, probably greater black-backs.

Immediately, a single Bonaparte's gull stole the show. It flew right down along the coast and stood out as conspicuous as could be. A few ring-billed gulls flew overhead; I had not endured this weather, however, to watch ring-bills, which I can see swallowing quarter-pound hamburgers whole from the comfort of my car at the local McDonald's.

I continued to search, closely inspecting each flock of gulls for a rarity. It was then a small group of birds appeared out beyond the breakers. My mood shifted - more serious now - encouraged, I could see their semi-synchronized movements. These were not gulls, but they had long bodies such as gulls do.

They were red-breasted mergansers. The gray sea would rise up behind them tilting their world to the longitudinal, and I could see their colors against the shimmer of light cresting behind them at the peak of each rolling wave. Red-breasted mergansers are beautiful birds with long slender bodies and tufted ruddy colored heads. I have always been impressed by their vigor and stealth, and mergansers have been a favorite of mine for years.

Perhaps they are not as intricately colored as the fantastic harlequin duck or as rare, but for me, a brief visit to the sea and the sighting of a small group of mergansers and some assorted gulls was inspiration enough.

The sea carried its own light on that overcast day, and the movement of the surf conveyed the mystery of continuous creation.

Robert Tougias Is A Colchester Based Birder. He Is The Author Of Birding Western Massachusetts. He Is Available For Slide Lectures And Birding Trips. You Can Email Him Your Questions At Rtougias@snet.net

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