For whatever reason, OWL outings to Barnegat Light have always been stymied by conditions just serious enough to warrant cancellation. Such was the case with the harlequin duck and short-eared owl search organized by Linda Turi with OWL’s birding expert, Mike Bisignano scheduled for February 8th - a winter storm hammered New Jersey the day before, dumping 8 inches of snow across the state including the coast. Originally we were to make a 2-mile round-trip hike on the Barnegat jetty in search of harlequin ducks and other wintering birds. Towards evening we would convoy to Manahawkin Wildlife Management Area and watch the evening flight of short-eared owls.

Walking a jetty is tricky even under favorable circumstances. The gaps between the boulders require you to be very conscious of where you step. Eight inches of snow makes it more difficult because it sometimes bridges two boulders suggesting there is solid footing underneath when there isn’t. As for Manahawkin, the road had serious ruts and bumps that probably weren’t any easier to negotiate with snow. The safest bet was to reschedule.

That day was February 15th. It was the only day Mike could make it and of course his presence was crucial. His wildlife background is remarkably diverse and he is a key member of OWL’s education team. He has a wildlife degree from Cook College, has worked for the Endangered and Nongame Species Program on peregrine falcons and other species, been paid to teach people about birding, competed in the World Series of Birding, and presently works for The Nature Conservancy on their Migratory Bird Program.

"Unfortunately many people canceled because they had plans to go away, including Linda who had worked so hard to put it all together. A handful of us would forge ahead and attempt to buck what Mike had termed "The Barnegat Curse."

Unlike the week before, the 15th was overcast and very windy. Mike told everyone that temperatures were supposed to hover around 25-degrees F, which was brutal enough, but the wind-chill would make it feel like a bone jarring 5-degrees.

We suited up as if we were going to trek across Antarctica: multiple layers, wind-blocking parkas, heavy-duty hat, gloves, serious winter boots and for the smart people (not myself), something to cinch around one’s face to deflect the wind.

Mike said we could go back at any point if we wanted. First we’d bird near the lighthouse and then decide whether to make the hike down the jetty.

Walking into a biting wind with tearing eyes, we saw an assortment of birds among the swells in the inlet. Common loons, long-tailed ducks, and red-breasted mergansers among them, plus a harbor seal whose head would occasionally pop up through the waves. "You want to walk along the bottom of the jetty?" asked Mike. The jetty itself was still covered with snow. We voted to give it go. We’d walk the beach (also snow covered) tucked behind the jetty, hoping to avoid the wind.

While it wasn’t comfy, it wasn’t that bad. Every so often Mike would climb up and look for harlequins and other birds. We spotted a pale form of a Savannah sparrow, called an Ipswich sparrow, foraging among the rocks and seaweed at the bottom of the jetty. Mike explained that this sparrow spent the summers on Sable Island in Nova Scotia, but wintered among coastal dunes in the eastern US.

Finally reaching the ocean we saw our sought after jewels: harlequin ducks. Mike set up his scope towards the end of the jetty where some drakes and hens were resting on rocks and in the water.

A drake harlequin is the Brad Pitt of the waterfowl world. A real head-turner whose appeal comes not just from its blue, rust, black and white colors, but their ornate arrangement. Hens lack the drake’s flare, but exhibit an understated beauty formed of chocolate and accents of white.

Harlequins like rough water. Most spend their summer inland in the Pacific Northwest nesting along shallow, fast moving rivers and streams, sometimes near rapids and waterfalls. In winter they head for the coast seeking out rocky areas pounded by waves. They feed on mollusks, crustaceans and insects.

We also saw purple sandpipers and ruddy turnstones poking around rocks and mussel beds, and streams of black scoters flying across the water. Mike’s keen eyes even picked out a first-year glaucous gull among the hordes of herring gulls.

As if the harlequins weren’t prize enough, we were rewarded again when we convoyed for short-eared owls. Instead of Manahawkin, we drove to Cedar Run Dock Road off Route 9. Mike heard that the road was bustling with owl activity and it was true.

Short-eareds are usually active in early evening, but it wasn’t even close to dark when we arrived and they were out already. Mike said they were probably stressed to find prey (voles, mice, etc.) because of the deep snow and had to put in extra hunting time to make up for it. On top of this, Northern harriers were also hunting. They occupy the same niche as short-eareds, only they hunt during the day, which is why the two don’t generally compete against each other. But now they were. We'd watch short-eareds pounce on voles, and occasionally a harrier would steal it. You could hear them growl at each other, and once we saw the vole drop to the ground as two birds clawed each other in the air.

This had to be the coldest OWL outing on record but we loved it, and would gladly do it again. Hopefully our icy pilgrimage broke "The Barnegat Curse." Whether or not it did, we felt privileged to observe these amazing creatures who festooned a frigid and dreary Saturday into colorful spectacle that fired our understanding and imagination.

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