The Dipper and the Tern

Joe Meche is president of the North Cascades Audubon Society and also serves the chapter as newsletter editor and birding programs coordinator. He has been watching birds for more than 50 years and photographing birds and landscapes for more than 30 years.

In our little corner of the country, we play host to a pair of unique birds. One of the birds is a year-round resident of the county while the other is migratory, usually arriving sometime around mid-April, and departing in the fall. The two birds could not be more different, both in size and preferred habitat, and most certainly in demeanor. One moves about quietly and is hardly noticed while the other makes it presence known, sometimes to the dismay of many humans with good hearing. These intriguing birds are the American dipper and the Caspian tern.

The dipper, as it’s commonly known, is an inimitable bird that lives its entire life with the sounds of waterfalls and clear, rushing water for background music. They live primarily along forested mountain streams but range as far downstream as sea level if water quality is to their liking and if food is available. They forage as they walk or fly below the surface, searching for aquatic insects and even salmon eggs during the season.

Dippers are remarkably adapted to their watery world. They have a nictitating membrane ­— or third eyelid — to keep their eyes clear of dirt or other particles in the water. They are also equipped with larger oil glands than other passerine species and scales that close over their nostrils when they are underwater. Its habit of bending or dipping its entire body gives this little character its common name.

In Chapter 13 of “The Mountains of California,” John Muir spoke with a noticeable fondness for the dipper, a bird that he referred to as the Ouzel. “He is a singular and joyous little fellow,” wrote Muir, “about the size of a robin, and clad in a plain waterproof suit of bluish gray, with a tinge of chocolate on the head and shoulders. Find a fall, or cascades, or rushing rapid, anywhere upon a clear stream, and there you will surely find its complementary Ouzel, flitting about in its spray, diving in foaming eddies, whirling like a leaf among beaten foam-bells; ever vigorous and enthusiastic, yet self contained, and neither seeking nor shunning your company.”

If you spend any time at all time watching dippers, you might sense some the same feelings that Muir must have experienced when he first journeyed to the Sierras and traveled up and down its many streams and waterfalls. In his 10 years of exploring the Sierras and its numerous waterfalls, he commented that “not one was found without its Ouzel.”

Locally, dippers have a long history of showing up far from their mountain haunts, and even within the Bellingham city limits. On a Sunday morning walk in early April, we observed a dipper flying into a recess behind the main falls in Whatcom Falls Park. On two trips, it carried nesting material through the veil of falling water. Several observers have witnessed this remarkable feat since then. I have also observed them at the mouth of Whatcom Creek, where it flows into Bellingham Bay.

Dippers are usually considered to be an indicator species and as such provide us with a literal birds-eye view of water quality. Past sightings, combined with the recently-confirmed nesting activity, tell us that Whatcom Creek is dipper-friendly, which is good news for humans. Dipper sightings have also been reported from Padden and Squalicum Creeks, both of which flow within the city limits and into Bellingham Bay—the seasonal haunt of the Caspian tern.

The Caspian tern is the largest of the world’s population of terns and a member of the even larger family of gulls. Though they are found throughout the world, the first specimen of this raucous tern was collected at the Caspian Sea in 1770 by Peter Simon Pallas, a noted German scientist who worked for the Russian Zoological Museum. He led natural history expeditions to the Caspian Sea as well as the Ural and Altai Mountains and Lake Baikal. Pallas also wrote the first scientific descriptions of a number of northern Pacific birds.

This handsome tern sports a black cap and a heavy, reddish-orange bill. Its tail is shorter and less deeply-forked than most of the other tern species. The dark undersides of their primary feathers are more obvious in flight, and when they feed, the action is nothing short of spectacular. When they are fishing, they fly with their bills pointed downward and dive straight into the water to snare small fish.

Last year’s large nesting colony on the old Georgia-Pacific (GP) property was quite exciting for a few people. I was able to enter the private property that now belongs to the port of Bellingham to observe the colony. Like most tern colonies I’ve experienced, there is an imaginary line that you cross when you become an intruder, as opposed to a mere observer. The sound and assertive-aggressive behavior of a nesting colony of terns can be quite unnerving.

Biologists from the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife visited the GP site and reported on a sizable number of birds with many eggs strewn about the nesting area. There were approximately 240 terns and 148 eggs counted. On one subsequent visit, I observed as many as three dozen chicks. This year, the colony appears to have moved to a location a little closer to the water. I spoke with an official from the port and they are aware of the unique visitors and are doing what they can to give them a little space during the nesting period.

The future of this site as a nesting colony is in doubt, however, since it sits right in the middle of the area that is planned for future development by the city and the port of Bellingham. As attractive as it might sound to have a nesting colony of these spectacular birds just blocks away from downtown, it is not a realistic view. Since the terns are opportunistic nesters, they will continue to seek alternative sites, wherever they might be.

If you look beyond a call that most people find annoying, to say the least, you will see a bird that is very well adapted to its way of life and is quite resilient. Their needs are minimal when it comes to nesting habitat, requiring a mere scrape on a sand/gravel beach to lay their eggs. This robust, gregarious tern has been kicked out of many locations and has been the object of much finger-pointing in the ongoing drama of dealing with decreased salmon runs on the Columbia River. Much like the sticky situation with the sea lions at the Ballard Locks, the truly responsible party often seeks and eventually finds a scapegoat.

These two birds, the dipper and the tern, both unique in their respective habitats, are considered highlights of any bird watcher’s day. The terns are easy enough to locate just by listening while you’re anywhere near the waterfront in spring and summer, but the dippers usually require a little more patience. But what could be more relaxing and enjoyable that sitting along a rushing stream waiting for a dipper to brighten your day? §