Sometimes getting off the wrong exit proves to be the right choice. So it was yesterday, when I got off exit 10, as I will always know it, instead of 11 on Rt. 6, while taking my daughter home from preschool. I think the birding part of my subconscious, which is most of it, steered me that way in a moment of daydreaming. However it happened, this presented a perfect opportunity to check a favorite winter birding spot, Long Pond in Harwich. There, along with the expected eagle standing on the ice and appropriately nervous ducks, was a little brown diving duck by itself at the ice edge. I thought it might have been a female Ring-necked Duck, but a view through my spotting scope showed the characteristic cowlick of a female Tufted Duck, a rare visitor from Europe. I was psyched, but my daughter was unimpressed and elected to stay in the car listening to her favorite heavy metal dinosaur music.
We stopped at Long Pond because lately, at least six different Bald Eagles have been hanging around on the ice and leering at the ducks, adding entertainment value to any birding stop. One day I had four young eagles all standing at different positions around the perimeter of the remaining open water, which was crowded with several species of ducks. The next day two adult eagles had the ice to themselves, so that makes at least six individual eagles dining there in a 24 hour period. Yesterday there was just one eagle, an oddly politely young bird that stood and let two ravens pick at a duck carcass on the ice for some time before finally asserting itself and taking over the meal. Luckily the eagle had not eaten this female Tufted Duck, which is the first one I have found myself in Massachusetts in 25 years.
A male Tufted Duck is showy and conspicuous, with a rakish ponytail of ragged feathers off the back of the head, like maybe this is the duck the other ducks buy weed from, plus a black back and gleaming white sides. A staring golden eye is set in a head that a close look in good light reveals to be purple. Females, like the one I saw yesterday, are subtle, showing varying shades of brown and a shorter, but usually obvious head tuft. The difficulty in finding them often comes from the fact that they are buried in a huge flock of Greater and Lesser Scaup, which they resemble in every way except the head tuft, creating a needle in a haystack situation, or at least an especially difficult “Where’s Waldo.” I got off easy – mine was by herself, with just a handful of scaup nearby.
Tufted Ducks breed across Europe and Asia, some wintering as far south as Kenya, while others linger year-round in Western Europe, where they are common and tame. If you’ve ever strolled around a pond while across the pond you’re probably seen them. I’ve seen Tufted Ducks in London’s Hyde Park, and according to an eBird checkist I filed in 2019, I saw them in Amsterdam from the window of my recently landed plane. Here in Massachusetts there are maybe 45 or 50 records.
Some listening from Nantucket might be wondering why I’m making a fuss over a Tufted Duck, because the Grey Lady may be the best place to see Tufted Ducks in the northeast. Sometimes multiple birds spend the winter on various ponds at the west end, along with other uncommon members of this genus of omnivorous diving ducks, like Redheads and Canvasback. The second-best place to look in recent years is where I found mine, on the Brewster/Harwich ponds complex, which hosts over 1000 of their close cousins, Greater and Lesser Scaup each winter.
Once I got the word out over the GroupMe texting app birders use, it was less than five minutes before the first birder showed up to look for the lady Tufted Duck. He then watched the ducks all fly off, sadly, but it’s worth checking back there today to see if the ducks have returned. I know the eagles will be checking.
