For Mature Audiences Only - Common Atlantic Eider

THE FOLLOWING PROGRAM CONTAINS CONTENT THAT SOME VIEWERS MAY FIND OBJECTIONABLE. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

These Common eider hens and chicks are so cute that you'd be tempted to take one home for a pet, like an Easter chick without the pink dye. These are specifically, Common Atlantic eiders because they are on the reflecting pool of the Washington Monument. Now look, be serious. They are on the Atlantic ocean. Every spring, starting in May, we get flotillas of them feeding along the rocky shore line and resting on the rocks. The hens make a mumbling sound which makes us think of old men playing chess in Central Park. The chicks peep-peep-peep like most chicks do. We can even hear them at night because they sit up on the rocks in the dark. Eiders are a big, sea duck. Their soft feathers are of 'eider down' fame, though today most pillows and quilts are stuffed with farm raised ducks and geese. Within barely hours of hatching, the chicks take to the water where they learn to dive immediately. Diving is how they get crustaceans from the bottom and also how they stay safe. When airborne predators show up, the chicks bunch together with the hens and dive. The mumbling and peeping are delightful to hear and we look forward to the chicks first appearances every year. In our neighborhood, we call each other up on first sighting, "The chicks are here!" But from there on out, it gets really ugly.

We also have a pair of gulls residing on our pier. They are a mated pair and like all living things, they must eat too (this is the point where you'll want to get the kids and the faint of heart out of the room). They are very fond of eider chicks. By yesterday, a brood of thirteen eider chicks born a week ago, had dwindled to five as they were picked off by gulls and eagles. Bald eagles like them also, but they aren't as good at snagging them as the gulls are. When the gulls or an eagle cruises around, the hens usher the chicks into a tight bunch. If they are on the rocks, they all take to the water and rush away from the shore so they can dive. The hens stretch their necks in the air, heads raised issuing alarm calls. Two days running I saw the gulls grab chicks. They swooped, grabbed then flew off to flail their prizes on the rocks while the hens screamed. As soon as it's over, everybody goes back to their business like nothing happened. It's a wretched, natural drama that plays out every year and begs the question "Do you have any Grey Poupon?"