Great Gull Island
By Joan Becker
Photographs by Richard L. Becker

Page 3

We were divided into three separate groups for our island tour. Our first stop was the 3-story tower. The scaling concrete walls and somewhat difficult climb were quickly overcome by a spectacular view: Little Gull Island to our northeast (with a spire lighthouse), Plum Island to the southwest (home of a Center for Disease Control outpost, and the probable source of the island’s lone raccoon, but more on him later) and Gardiner’s Island to the south (a privately-held island the family is no longer able to afford and which concerned citizens are trying to save from pending German developers). Although we left the Connecticut shore at slack tide, enough time had passed that we were now mid-tide and could see the force and turbulence of the current rushing into Peconic Bay (between the north and south forks of Long Island).

Due in part to the excessive heat, the flush of excitement once in the tower, and rushing from side to side to compare views, I came darned close to walking right over the hole in the floor for the climb down. Assuming I might not be the only twit to do that, I blocked off two sides with the only plastic chairs available.

Terns were everywhere, fishing, soaring, landing, and feeding young. Occasionally large groups would flush for no obvious reason. An Osprey or even a Rock Pigeon could spook them. Other than terns, we spotted Barn Swallows, one Red-winged Blackbird, and a couple of American Oystercatchers which we spotted later. Sometimes erratics like Sooty Tern and Magnificent Frigatebird are blown in by coastal storms. The sheer numbers of terns and rugged terrain manage to deter gulls. (In spite of the milkweed on the island, the only butterflies we saw were Cabbage Whites.)

Back down the stairs and through the thigh-high vegetation to the dorm, I finally “got” that Helen meant for us to watch out for the “chicks” (not ticks!). And there were plenty around. One poor fellow had a “weeping” non-functional eye - Helen hopes he had merely brushed too close to some vegetation and that it might actually heal. I’m sure she’ll investigate him further once we leave.

The dorm rooms were not exactly inviting. Musty-smelling, and almost abandoned looking except for the occasional sleeping bag strewn here and there on cots, I knew that only being bone-tired could make them appealing. We were able to spot our first Roseate Terns out the back door. Expecting all-black, more slender bills made the adjustment to 1/3 black, 2/3 red bills a difficult one, but we (sort of) managed to “get it.” Richard even spotted one with a roseate breast.

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Copyright © 2004 by Joan and Richard L. Becker