MICHAEL GIVANT
Guest Writer
Givant@lbknews.com
Everything about gannets spells power, agility and mystery. These 37-inch seabirds, that breed on rocky cliffs in the North Atlantic and winter at sea, are uncommon migrants to Florida.
Immature gannets as well as some mature adults soar offshore above the Gulf of Mexico where they can occasionally be seen from December through April. They always look a little too big, their wings look a little too long and a little too bent. Their bills point down toward the water, their heads are slightly tilted downward and their tails are tight and tubular. If you could design a bird to come from on high and circle over the water reconnoitering for fish, it would be the gannet.
The most I’d seen at any one time was two or three until one morning this February; there were eight or nine on Whitney Beach. Over three hours later on another spot on the beach, I counted about 22. That morning I got a crash course in what they looked like in flight and in plunge diving.
Gannets’ wings taper to a point and span six feet. Those wings sometimes shimmy before the bird dives. Other times they are slightly arched, and yet other times they straighten to full length. These birds can and do turn on a dime and will sometimes turn around once or twice as they plunge at a 90-degree angle.
Gannets can dive from heights of about 90 feet reaching speeds of approximately 60 miles per hour. During these dives their wings, initially bent at impossible angles, straighten a split second before the bird enters the ocean like a bullet, leaving only a splash. What prevents gannets from injuring themselves during such dives are internal air sacs around the face and chest, which act as shock absorbers.
They will stay under a short while and, despite weighing six-and-a-half pounds, gannets bob to the surface with the buoyancy of a cork. While I didn’t see them eating, gannets take small fish underwater. Most remained on the surface a short time before flying. When they did take off it was difficult to see their initial liftoff. However they quickly rose to a low height, flying parallel to the water for five or six seconds until they started to gain altitude. As they gained altitude, if their rears were toward me, I could see a white spot or band at the base of their tails. As they flew they sometimes disappeared between the crests of two waves for a few seconds causing me anxious moments. However after watching many dives and flights I felt like a parent of an adventurous adult child in whom I had full confidence. I knew that they would appear unharmed.
At the end of that morning having walked up and down the beach following them I sat on the sand taking notes. Skeptical that I was going to see so many again, I kept watching. Just when I told myself I’d really had enough, one plunged from a height greater than any I’d seen before. It was like watching old newsreel footage of fighter planes being shot down in WWII Pacific naval battles.
The next day I did see some gannets and enjoyed looking at the striking differences between adults, which are black and white with some yellow on their heads. I really enjoyed seeing the immature ones of which there are a lot more than there are mature adults. They are the ones whose dirty white and brown bodies spell power and mystery to me. There is only one other bird flying off Whitney Beach with which they can be confused, and that is the brown pelican. However as the pelican has an enormous bill and the gannet doesn’t, it is easy to tell the difference between the two.
There was no other day that matched the sheer number of gannets I saw that morning. I was in the right place at the right time. A few weeks later when walking with my wife on Beer Can Island, a rich brown immature gannet was flying close to shore. It plunged into the water less than 25 yards from shore and floated for a while. I could see the blue gray of its eye but somehow it was more exciting seeing gannets from afar. Knowing that they are not going to come ashore here is part of their mystery.
The last time I saw gannets, I was leaving the beach one windy morning and by chance turned around. Two immature ones were flying fairly close to shore. The day had just turned partially cloudy leaving the Gulf water dark toward the beach and a bright green further out — theatrical lighting provided by Mother Nature. The birds, a rich brown, were flying low and making a wide circle over the water. When they reconnoiter the water like that I become transfixed. What restrained power and agility. They flew off toward the horizon but only one came back. Then I lost sight of both. Somehow, fittingly, they were gone. But for a minute they brought their mystery and majesty to bear leaving this admirer smiling.
