Steve Fagin: Napatree Point is for the birds

Less than a minute after friends and I arrived at Westerly’s Napatree Point one blustery morning last week, we watched a small falcon, on the hunt, rocketing over marsh grasses,

Nearly as quickly, Maggie Jones hoisted her binoculars, squinted, and pronounced, “Merlin.”

Moments later, a slightly larger falcon, a peregrine, shot past, followed by sharp-shinned and Cooper’s hawks – all soaring and swooping to feast on warblers, plovers and other birds that stop this time of year along the 1.5-mile peninsula that juts between Little Narragansett Bay and the Atlantic Ocean.

“This is the number one spot in the region for bird migration,” she noted.

Though weighing only about half a pound, the merlin is a fierce predator that relies on a sharp beak, vice-like talons and powerful wings that can allow the bird to attain speeds topping 50 mph. That may seem fast, but nowhere near the velocity of its larger cousin, the peregrine falcon, which can hit a breathtaking 200 mph while diving toward prey.

The merlins, peregrines and sharp-shinned hawks we saw were en route from Canada and northern New England to the southeastern United States and Central America. Songbirds, meanwhile, flitted about nervously, watching for avian predators while feasting on bugs, juniper and bayberries that would fuel them for thousands of miles.

“These northwest winds are perfect for migrating birds and butterflies, though it is getting late in the season for insects, and the birds that eat them,” Maggie said. She explained that yellow-rumped and lesser warblers, as well as other songbirds, migrate at night, using celestial navigation along such land features as Napatree. We also observed lesser yellowlegs, dunlin and semi-palmated plovers foraging on exposed mud flats.

A few dozen monarchs and other butterflies also clung to the remaining flowers of seaside goldenrod, a critical food source for bees and butterflies. Expansive swaths of the yellow blossoms, glowing in bright sunshine, spread out along the peninsula.

We hiked for more than an hour, cresting a sandy bluff on the south shore that overlooks Watch Hill Lighthouse, sparkling ocean waters, and the eastern tip of Fishers Island. There aren’t many better shoreline views in the area.

The three of us then followed the beach to a path across the dunes, and cut over to the shore facing Sandy Point and the mouth of the Pawcatuck River, which forms the border between Rhode Island and Connecticut.

Marco Barres and I gazed somewhat uneasily at the bay, now kicking up wind-whipped whitecaps and rolling seas. Our cars were parked two miles away at the Barn Island state boat launch in Stonington – a relatively short distance, but one we would have to navigate in kayaks.

Earlier, he and I had decided to paddle from Stonington to Napatree, rather than drive. Propelled by a brisk, northwest wind that gusted over 20 mph, the trip took us only 25 minutes – about the same amount of time it would have taken us by car through Pawcatuck and downtown Westerly.

Visiting Napatree from Connecticut takes even longer in summer, especially on busy weekends – plus you have to pay for parking or risk a hefty fine. This is one reason I almost always choose to kayak to Watch Hill and Napatree rather than drive. Another reason: kayaking is way more fun – usually.

There also have been recent reports about an ongoing dispute over pedestrian access from Watch Hill to Napatree, though neither I nor any friends have ever encountered any difficulty. Tom Pappadia, a volunteer with the Watch Hill Conservancy who was posted at the Napatree entrance during our visit, assured us that no one ever has been or would be prevented from walking to the point.

“You can come any time,” he said.

While Marco and I traveled by water, Maggie, nursing an injured finger, had to drive. At the end of our short hike, she walked back to her car, while Marco and I donned lifejackets, climbed into our kayaks, snapped spray skirts into place, and shoved off against breaking waves.

We initially considered detouring toward more protected canals on the east side of Barn Island, a route we’ve taken on previous voyages, but after a few minutes of bouncing up and down in chop, agreed that conditions, though challenging, were manageable. We’ve both weathered substantially more tumultuous seas during past paddles offshore.

“Let’s keep going,” I said.

Off we went.

“Having fun?” I asked. I’m pretty sure I heard Marco shout, “Yes!”

Once halfway across, just past the eastern tip of Sandy Point, the seas calmed slightly, thanks to less “fetch” over open water. We then rose up and over the wake from a fishing boat, the only other vessel in sight, and sprinted to shore.

I checked my watch: 35 minutes – only 10 minutes longer, into the wind, than the downwind paddle.

While we loaded our boats onto roof racks, Marco asked, “So, when’s the next adventure?”