The bald eagle’s circles became tighter and lower, its white tail feathers splayed out for braking and direction, eyes never leaving the common goldeneye in the cove.
Oddly, not another goldeneye was in sight. A predator is only going to nail one duck at a time, so a duck in a flock of 10 has no more than a 1-in-10 chance of being someone’s meal. A solo duck becomes the prime target.
Usually a goldeneye group is foraging closer to the shore, swimming in one direction, diving for food, popping up and continuing to move along. But this one was in the open and seemingly oblivious to the danger now circling about 30 feet above the water.
It was acting in a most un-goldeneye manner, swimming back and forth in a 25-foot stretch, appearing distressed. At first, the scenario looked like an ill bird, a prime candidate for an easy meal as the eagle’s circle dropped to about 20 feet.
It was twitching, shaking its head, stretching out its neck as if trying to swallow a crab caught crosswise. This probably wasn’t courtship behavior, no acrobatic bending of the head backwards to the tail, no short flights to show its wing markings and take-off and landing prowess, and no female in sight.
The eagle might have been puzzled by this behavior as it circled rather than attacked. Finally it moved toward the target that, at this point, went under water for a few seconds, then popped up and continued its apparent struggles.
A couple more feints and brief dives and surface behaviors, then the goldeneye went under and stayed; the eagle lost interest and left. But the goldeneye didn’t resurface, although I had a fairly broad view of the area in which it was likely to have popped up.
Was it alive and well, swimming out of our sight, or had it, still battling an obstruction, not been able to return to the surface? Chalk this up to one of life’s mysteries.
Much is not a mystery about goldeneyes, of course. They’re about 18 inches long, with powerful, fast-beating wings that whistle in flight. The male common goldeneye has a white spot below and a little ahead of its golden eye, a sloping forehead and a blackish-green head; Barrow’s goldeneye has a steeper forehead, a large white crescent on its face and a purple-black head.
The common goldeneye’s scapulars (wing feathers that lie over the humerus) are mostly white. A Barrow’s scapulars have more black with a set of white finger-shaped markings.
The Latin for common goldeneye is Bucephala clangula, clangula meaning "a small noise," a reference to the wing-whistling sounds. Barrow’s is Bucephala islandica, the second word a Latin form of Iceland, a breeding ground for Barrow’s goldeneyes.
Goldeneyes are strong swimmers with large feet and short legs set farther back and more propulsion-oriented than dabbler ducks. That allows them to forage a different menu than dabblers because they’re able to dive to 20 feet or so and remain under for up to 40 seconds.
They are omnivorous, preferring crustaceans, insects and fish, but also nibbling on plants. On their breeding grounds, common goldeneyes look for nest cavities; so do Barrow’s, but they sometimes opt for rock crevasses.
The precocial (able to feed themselves and move around soon after hatching) down-covered chicks must face a leap of faith only a day or two after hatching. Their mother coaxes them out of the nest and into the air (they won’t fly for weeks) for a fall that may be up to 50 feet. Fortunately they’re covered in down and incredibly light, and usually land on a forest floor to follow mother to water.
No doubt mother keeps an eye out for eagles.
Columnist Sharon Wootton may be reached at 360-468-3964 or www.songandword.com.
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