Category Archives: Outer Banks

New Spat in Town

A friend of mine once made the observation that tourists, hot weather and mosquitoes get here at about the same time each year. That acquaintance was John Gillikin of Buxton. He’s no longer with us, but you have to admit his tongue in cheek statement is pretty true. When I have more time, I’ll have to tell you a little bit about Gillikin. He was one of the more colorful characters of Hatteras Island and deserving of remembrance.

Getting back to this time of year when all those things happen, I need to throw in another item… new oysters. They’re called spat, and as the rising water temperatures of the sound hit around 70, oysters here begin to spawn. Male and female oysters emit sperm and egg into the water and wherever they meet, an eyed larvae is the result. It swims in search of substrate to attach and grow. Mortalities are high and those that find attachment, develop a shell and begin their life cycle as a true oyster.

Last week I found 8 new ones on my research tiles out in Pamlico Sound. About a half inch in size, they were just weeks old, perhaps 4 or 5. That was about the time the water temperature was spiking from the low 50’s in mid April to upper 70’s by the end of May.

Oyster spat is set on substrate along with calcareous worm tubes.

Similar spat information is collected by dozens of volunteers up and down the North Carolina coast, and goes into a research program with the Benthic Lab at UNCW.

There’s no doubt that we’re hitting our peak season. With plenty of vacationers, the heat and a few mosquitos, the oysters should be spawning for the while.

Indigo

Lately I find myself shooting close to home. There’s a lot of nature on my piece of the island, and I like it that way. Birds fly in to roost or feed in the trees. During migration you never know what will arrive.

About two weeks ago, there was a thump on the window, and I knew an unfortunate bird had flown into the reflection of deceiving glass. It’s a common problem.

I always want to help revive the victim unless the collision is fatal. Most of the time the birds are stunned and after a short respite, they’re able to fly off. This time I was blown away when the accident involved a male indigo bunting.

Preferring more inland habitat, they are rare in our seaside village, but not unheard of.

The bunting was dazed and I set up a 105 micro nikkor for a few close ups.

Interestingly, I’ve read their plumage is really black, but because of the way the feathers are structured, they reflect as a brilliant blue in sunlight.

Before long he came to and flew away.

Oregon Inlet

We hear a lot about Oregon Inlet, and the bridge spanning it. Nowadays you can hardly talk about one without mentioning the other. It’s nothing new and has been an issue for a long time.

When I first came here, driving over that beautifully curved bridge across the inlet was an awesome experience, the vistas remarkable. It was sort of an environmental work of art that served a purpose, getting to and from Hatteras Island. I would eventually learn that it was a bit more than that.

In April of 1977, while driving to Nags Head, I watched 4 trawlers coming in through the well-marked channel. There was no traffic and I had just gone over the peak of the bridge. I stopped overlooking Bodie Island spit, got out and took one shot with a 400mm lens on a fairly new Nikon F2.

In January of 1985, we had a severe cold snap. Temperatures were low enough to freeze portions of the Pamlico Sound. I was so impressed that I hired a pilot to take me up and shoot the ice flows from above. We ascended to 7,000 feet, and the view was spectacular.

December of that same year, I was shooting a story on commercial fishing for Outer Banks Magazine. Arrangements were made for me to spend 3 days on a trawler from Wanchese, where Captain Terry Saunders welcomed me aboard the “Richard Wayne”. There were 2 days of fair weather, but when a northeaster set in on the third day, the boats decided to come in early. Crossing the bar at the mouth of the inlet was rough, and Captain Stevie Daniels maneuvered “Bailey Boy” through, right behind us.

I flew during a northeaster in 1989 and made shots along Hatteras Island. There was no jetty in place at the inlet yet, and the Coast Guard Station was beginning to wash away. At the time, they were abandoning the station and moving to a newly built facility on the north side, next to the Oregon Inlet Fishing Center.

No recollections of Oregon Inlet would be complete without mentioning the October 1990 incident of a dredge taking out 400 feet of Bonner Bridge. I made this shot that December riding the ferry across the inlet when repairs were being made.

On an overcast September day in 2005, I went airborne with a videographer shooting a documentary on rising sea level. The section of the bridge that was taken out in 1990 is noticeable as a darker shade of gray in the pavement.

Hurricane Irene radically reshaped Oregon Inlet in 2011.

The only inlet on the east coast facing northeast, Oregon Inlet was originally formed in 1846. Since then, it has migrated over 2 miles south. Watching the area change and shift over the years continues to be fascinating. It’s a display of man’s engineering prowess in the face of some of nature’s most powerful forces. It’s also very expensive.

Waxwings

Nature never ceases to amaze me as it provides for the proliferation of life.

When birds migrate, their food supply is crucial. So it happens that this time of year as the female red cedar trees are draped with succulent berries, the cedar waxwings are moving through in large flocks. They can be seen resting on power lines or collectively swirling through the villages. Then they disappear into the trees. Eastern red cedars keep their foliage and are the prevalent green in our winter landscape. They are easy to spot.

My property has lots of indigenous vegetation, including cedars. The male cedar develops tiny cones and pollenates the females. Sometimes the trees are so laden with pollen, the branches practically smoke as the wind whips through them.

Flocks feed voraciously in the cedars around my house.

Cedar Waxwings are handsome birds with colorful plumage, a rakish black mask and crest.

The tail is striking and looks as if it was dipped in yellow paint.

The name of the bird comes from the waxy red secretions found on the tips of the secondary feathers.

Down the hatch. Cheers!

Critters

About ten years ago, I began nurturing an oyster garden. It has not been without some pitfalls like high wave action, sedimentation and algae blooms. But despite that, the oysters have thrived and grown into a series of small reefs. The reefs attract a myriad of other organisms, not just oysters. As the oysters spawn and grow, so does the size and complexity of the reef.

I take water quality data around the reefs twice a week and submit the information to researchers at UNCW and ECU. I see shrimp and fish interacting with the reefs. One day measuring salinity, I stood in waist deep water with a school of taylor blues swimming circles around me. I’ve also seen green sea turtles feeding there.

Barnacles grow abundantly on the reef.

Sea anemones wave arms in the moving current.

A blenny laid it’s eggs in an empty oyster shell.

Reef inhabitants include young oyster toads.

Mud crabs find a bountiful food supply in and around the reef.

Spider crabs are common residents.

I’m also finding some stone crabs in the system.

One of the most interesting critters in the mix are the snapping shrimp. About 2 inches long, they look like a small lobster.

One late Summer day, I caught and released this butterfly fish.

Some critters live inside the oyster itself, like the pea crab in the oyster on the right. In it’s protected environment, the crab feeds on plankton brought in by the oyster and it’s relationship is parasitic. Locally, the pea crab in an oyster is deemed a culinary delicacy.

Michael Halminski Photographer

Waves, North Carolina