New England

For the Birds

Today my friend Ali went to cover the Citizen Science day at Felix Neck Wildlife Sanctuary, and posted a photo of a little baby great horned owl on Instagram while she was there. I’ve never seen a baby owl in person before, so as soon as I was finished with my assignment, I zipped over to Felix Neck.

It was definitely worth the trip. The owlet is six weeks old, and going to its foster nest tomorrow. And it is a fierce little fluffball.

OH MY GOODNESS.

The Mass Audobon staff had brought other birds of prey from their education programs as well: a barn owl, which I didn’t see, and a peregrine falcon, which was stunning.

Yeesh.

They also brought a screech owl. I went to cover the Christmas Bird Count earlier this year, and when I was out with the birders at 6 a.m. we heard screech owls…but again, I’d never seen one before.

They are tiny.

I’ve been watching the BBC’s Life of Birds on and off for the past month, and while it’s fantastic to watch all of the neat footage they got for the documentaries, it’s another thing to actually see birds of prey like this in person. That was the crux of the Mass Audobon program: bringing the animals, most of which have been hurt and can’t live in the wild anymore, into classrooms so kids can gain a greater sense of the wild world. Pretty cool! I’m so glad I decided to stop by.

Also, here is one more of the great horned owlet. Because it is just too much:

(Superstorm) Sandy and Lucy (Vincent)

Jack Lionette, left, and Tristan Scott, both of Chilmark, Mass., dash through piles of foam at Lucy Vincent Beach on October 30, 2012, the day after winds and rain from Hurricane Sandy whipped through Martha’s Vineyard. The storm caused the collapse of the prominent clay cliffs on Lucy Vincent, and washed away the beach’s dunes. School was canceled for two days due to the storm.

I don’t even have any photos of my own showing what Lucy Vincent looked like before Sandy came along; I’ve only been to this beach twice. Suffice to say that the square-shaped dent in the cliffs didn’t exist before. Since school was out for the day, there were a lot of families at the beach checking out the damage for themselves (there were also a lot of photographers). I took Jack’s photo last year when Remy wrote a piece on his dad, who’s the chef at Morning Glory Farm…the Vineyard is so small in the off-season.

Here’s what it looked like on the other side of the cliffs:

And here is a sandpiper who is probably pretty happy about the new tide line:

Shining Sea Bikeway

On Friday, after my dentist and ophthalmologist appointments in Falmouth, my ophthalmologist recommended walking to Woods Hole on the Shining Sea Bikeway (so named because the author of “America the Beautiful” was born in Falmouth) instead of backtracking on the town roads to the landing where I’d come in. It was four-and-a-half miles to Woods Hole, which I kind of barreled through because I was trying to make the 5:00 ferry back to MV (spoiler: I made it), but…what a walk. The Cape shore is simply beautiful.

(okay, so this was taken on the ferry, not the bikeway…but look at the rainbow!)

 

Kids Derby

The 67th Striped Bass and Bluefish Derby is here!

The New York Times wrote a pretty lengthy piece on the Derby for this Sunday’s paper. Check it out; it’s a great intro to the event.

Anyway, this year I’m one of two reporters doing Derby coverage, and it’s been fantastic so far (here is a pretty lengthy piece I wrote last week about the four Derby fish). Fishermen are a bit hard to track down–since they’re always out on the boats–but they’re wonderful to talk to once you actually find them. They’re all very Hemingway-esque (shocker!), with their short, direct manners of speaking, and because fishing brings a mix of serious ego-quashing and quiet satisfaction, they have great perspective on life in general.

This morning, I covered the Kids Derby, which usually draws about 200 kiddos (and their parents) to the ferry docks in Oak Bluffs. This is the only time when the docks are used for anything other than loading and unloading passengers, and it couldn’t be for a better cause. I love seeing the youngest fishermen, the four-year-olds, rushing up to the weigh-in table clutching a teeny little scup, totally excited about the whole endeavor.

 

 

Ahoy!

A few weeks ago, a small pod of right whales was spotted off the southern shore of the Vineyard. Since there are only about 450 Northern Atlantic right whales left in the world, this was a pretty rare (and pretty awesome, in the literal sense of the word) sight. Pete wrote a story about the sighting, and while making his calls, got in touch with the Provincetown Center for Costal Studies, who offered to give him a spot on one of their research trips.

So yesterday we drove up to Provincetown, which is at the very tip of Cape Cod, and spent four hours offshore as the PCCS researchers photographed whales (for IDing later) and collected copepod samples. I know we all learn in elementary school how baleen whales eat zooplankton, but seeing the samples of teeny copepods and thinking about how a many-tonned animal could possibly survive on those along was just mind-boggling.

It was also a little surreal just to see whales. I’ve never seen what I consider “real” whales–whales in the wild; the closest I’ve come were belugas and orcas at zoos and aquariums. And to see three species on my first trip out—there were also fin whales and minke whales in the same feeding grounds—was incredible. The right whales were a little smaller than I expected them to be, but fin whales are about 80 (!!!!) feet long. When they submerged, their bodies just kept going—no wonder people used to think they were sea monsters.

I watermarked these because it’s against the law to be within 500 feet of a right whale (they’re federally protected) unless you have a permit (which we did).

The dark blot in the background is a whale.

But they came a lot closer to the boat.

The white stuff is sea lice living in the calcifications on the whale’s head and body. I remain a little icked out by that fact.

Dolphins swimming around a submerging fin whale. It’s, um, big.

I wrote earlier that the whales were smaller than I expected. I didn’t get a sense for their actual size until I saw them breaching.

All in all, a very excellent assignment. It might be time to go re-watch Blue Planet…

 

 

A Tale of Two Graduations: Harvard

A few weeks ago, I was lucky enough to go on a Journalism Adventure off-Island. Tiffany Smalley, a Vineyarder and a member of the Wampanoag tribe of Aquinnah, was receiving her degree from Harvard; she’s the first Wampanoag to graduate from Harvard in 346 years. So the Gazette wanted a photographer there to capture her receiving the degree.

This assignment was without question one of the most stressful I’ve ever had in terms of pre-event coordination—it’s one thing to photograph a graduation and a whole other beast to document just one person (out of the thousands of people at Harvard)—but once I actually found Tiffany (who was fantastically chill about everyone making a huge fuss about her accomplishment), it was way easier. It just took a while to get to that point, since she was busy doing all kinds of pre-graduation things; there was a bit of phone tag for a while.

I think I did an okay job with this assignment, but I wasn’t as creative as I would have liked to be, and I wish I had more photos of Tiffany with her family. I am, however, extremely glad that I rented a 70-200mm f/2.8 to use instead of my f/4.

I also stuck around for the afternoon ceremonies, where Tiffany received a posthumous degree on behalf of Joel Iacoombes, who would have been the second Wampanoag to graduate from Harvard if he hadn’t died just before his commencement in 1655. Ellen Sirleaf Johnson, the President of Liberia, was the featured speaker for those proceedings, which was amazing (her speech was also great).

Spotted during the afternoon ceremony: Arne Duncan, Class Marshall. Harvard is the ultimate in the “Go big or go home” mentality.

Tiffany and Wampanoag tribe chair Cheryl Andrews-Maltais receiving the long-overdue degree.

Not Tiffany (she’s still on stage), but I like this photo anyway.

Podium picture. Couldn’t be helped.

Slaughterhouse Ridealong: Vineyard Story QuickEdit

Last summer, I photographed a story about the Mobile Poultry Processing Unit. When farmers here are ready to slaughter their chickens (or turkeys, or ducks), the unit comes to their farm and processes the birds. It’s about as local as you can get.

But for other livestock, that option doesn’t exist. There are no facilities, mobile or otherwise, on Martha’s Vineyard, to process the larger animals, so farmers have to take their goats, pigs, sheep and cows to the mainland.

Today I rode along with Julie of the FARM Institute and Remy (reporter and fellow Gazetteer) as Julie brought eight pigs to Adams Farm in Athol, Mass., for slaughter. Athol is a three-hour drive from Woods Hole, where the ferries dock. The ferry ride itself is 45 minutes each way. All told, we spent about eight hours in transit, plus an hour of waiting at the ferry dock on the way back, plus a stop in Taunton, Mass., to pick up grain (Julie, understandably, likes to make the most of these sojourns). It was a very long day.

I loved every minute of it. It wasn’t nearly as graphic as chicken day had been (nor was the smell as awful, fortunately). I wasn’t allowed to take photos on the kill floor (where the skinning, etc., happens—although we did get to look in there, and I didn’t think it was as bad as they were making it out to be), but I had access to every other part of the facility, which was fantastic. I loved that Adams Farm opened its doors to us (especially to a photographer), and were completely transparent about their processes and practices; I’m pretty sure that doesn’t happen at the large factory-type plants. I loved that you could buy meat in their store that was processed in the next room over (and I don’t even eat meat). I loved that one of the guys was keeping his three-week-old goat in the locker room because she had pneumonia and couldn’t be with the other animals.

I also loved that it was overcast and rainy, because a natural softbox is always awesome.

There were a couple of stories in the take from the day. The first, which is in this post, is the actual Vineyard story. The second is a more general “here’s what happens at a slaughterhouse” story.

FARM Institute farm manager Julie Olson sits on the Island Home as it leaves Martha’s Vineyard for Woods Hole at 7:00 a.m.

Pigs from the FARM Institute wait in the trailer while Julie fuels up at a rest stop on Route 190 in Massachusetts. It takes three hours to reach Adams Farm in Athol, Mass., from the ferry docks in Woods Hole.

The pigs receive ear tags before they are herded into the barn, where they will “enter the chute” later in the day. Ear tagging is a USDA requirement, as it enables butchers (and later, consumers) to tell where their meat came from.

Julie uses a board to herd the pigs into the barn, where they will wait with animals from other farms until it is time to “enter the chute.” As a rule, she isn’t attached to the animals she brings to the slaughterhouse. “It’s our livelihood,” she says.   [I got to climb up a fence to take this photo! It was awesome.]

Julie moves a box of lamb meat from the Adams Farm freezer to her trailer. The lamb meat is for the Allen Farm, also a Martha’s Vineyard business. Because Julie was already making the trip to Athol, she offered to pick up the 33 boxes of lamb for the Allen Farm. She picked up only eleven bags of meat for the FARM Institute.

Julie is reflected in the back mirror of her pick-up truck, which can haul 3500 pounds. The load of eight pigs was relatively small compared to that of the previous trip to Adams Farm, during which she brought five cows to Athol.

The FARM Institute trailer sits among passenger cars in the hold of the Islander on the trip back to Martha’s Vineyard. Julie’s entire trip, which included a stop in Taunton, Mass., to pick up grain, took over ten hours, only one of which was actually spent at the slaughterhouse.