Rich, Luke, and I were on a mission today. We were going to find a Cave Swallow. With one seen yesterday in Ogunquit, multiple reports in Massachusetts, and another at Odiorne State Park in New Hampshire, we knew this would be the day. The weather was perfect (it was nice to start out overdressed on November 13th in Maine!), the swallows were around, and we had a plan. Lysle was in Cape Elizabeth, Eric was in Biddeford Pool, and so we headed south.

We decided not to chase yesterday’s Perkin’s Cove, Ogunquit sightings because it had not been seen since late in the morning. Cave Swallows, like all other swallows, are diurnal (during the day) migrants, and that bird could have been in Massachusetts by now. Instead, we hatched a plan to let the swallows come to us. We would put ourselves in the best positions possible, and watch, and wait. We chose 4 promising sites: Fort Foster in Kittery, Seapoint Beach in Kittery, York Beach, and Perkin’s Cove in Ogunquit. Our plan was to stay in one spot at each place for one hour, scanning the skies in all directions. Each location was chosen for its geography, wrack-lined beaches (with numerous insects), and good sight lines.

Our first stop was Fort Foster. We stationed ourselves at the edge of the wrack-covered beach bordering the marsh. Lots of flies in the seaweed (2 “Western” Palm Warblers and 2 Yellow-rumped Warblers feeding on them was a good sign), the marsh for further foraging, and a good view of the coastline and treeline. We set up scopes, and we waited. Layers were shed, Bonaparte’s Gulls were photographed, and optimism abounded. But, alas, no Cave Swallow.

The next stop was nearby Seapoint Beach. The sheltered cove is ideal, the wrack-strewn beach and salt marsh there provided food sources, and there’s an excellent view of the sky. (In fact, Seapoint Beach was atop many birders’ lists as the most likely place for the first Cave Swallow to be found in Maine). We took up positions along the berm that separates Seapoint Beach from Crescent Beach to the south. Facing north, we had a view of the entire beach, marsh, cove, and over the distant treeline.

And then we waited. And waited. Optimism began to wane. Luke went to check the brush at the point, and Rich and I enjoyed a couple of “Ipswich” Savannah Sparrows. 40 minutes had gone by, and we began our plans to head to our next stop. And then, it happened . . .

There, above the far tree line, at the limit of conjecture, there was a . . .“SWALLOW” I yell! (Being careful not to pull the trigger too soon on the specific identity like I did last time). I grabbed my scope and searched the sky. A few wispy clouds in an otherwise blue sky were all the landmarks I had. I CAN’T FIND IT! Then, in what seemed like eons (more likely about 45 seconds) I get the bird in the scope. Rich is struggling to find the bird as well. “Where?” “Is it by that gull, is it over the gray house???” Dark back, pure white belly. Sigh. A Tree Swallow. But, I thought I had two swallows. But, Rich and I watched as one single Tree Swallow worked the sky back and forth, barely a speck of dust in binoculars, but clearly identifiable in the scope one SINGLE Tree Swallow. But, what about the OTHER bird? Was there another bird? Did I see double, did I see that passerine that just passed by? Was my mind playing tricks on me?

I had all but convinced myself that there was only one bird when I yell again “TWO SWALLOWS. . .Over the bank of puffy clouds, over the long gray roof, two fields up . . . “ Rich is on them.

“IT’S GOT A PALE RUMP, IT’S GOT A PALE RUMP!” (Which means it is EITHER a Cliff Swallow or a Cave Swallow). The bird was working back and forth in the sky, presumably catching flying insects caught in updrafts from the increasing southwesterly wind.

“WHERE? WHERE?” Cries of distress emanate from Luke – he can’t get on the birds!

“BUFFY THROAT, BUFFY THROAT!” (Only a touch darker than the rest of the underparts, clinching the separation between the dark rufous-throated Cliff Swallow) . . .

“CAVE SWALLOW!!!!!”

“I SEE IT, I SEE IT” voices Rich,

“OH GOD, ARE YOU KIDDING, WHERE? I DON’T SEE IT!” screams Luke.

“Wait, WAIT – GOT IT, I GOT IT!”

All three of us are on the bird. Straining to see it through our scopes, the bird and its Tree Swallow comrade (often in the same field of view together offering good comparisons) eventually drift out of sight to the north. We did it! Mission accomplished! High fives and hugs are exchanged.

Between 10:10 and 10:20, we had seen our Cave Swallow. “State Birds” for me and Rich (its taken him 36 years of birding in Maine to see one) and a “Life Bird” for Luke, I have never had more satisfaction from such an unsatisfactory view! The bird was frighteningly distant, barely (although conclusively) identifiable, and far from the drop-dead views of the bird at point-blank range as it skimmed low over the rotting seaweed on the beach that we had hoped for. But, who cares? We saw it! We all also agreed that we were happy each other was there - not only to share in the excitement - but also to vouch for this incredible sighting that given our (OK, mostly my) obsession with and with such brutally distant views, no one would have believed any one of us! (Now, no one believes all three of us instead!)

A sense of accomplishment, satisfaction, and downright relief rushed through my body and the euphoria added a bounce to our steps as we walked back to the car. With the pressure off – our mission accomplished – we could enjoy birding on this beautiful day!

We spent about a half hour at York Beach, just in case the northbound swallows came down to the beach to look for a bite to eat, a little birding around the Nubble, and then celebratory hot dogs at Flo’s capped a wonderfully successful morning!

And, next year, I’m going after an Ash-throated Flycatcher!