Prince’s Bay

A journey into the eroding underbelly of Staten Island.These were a surprise. Peacocks, screaming their haunting woman-in-peril scream on the grounds of the Seguine Mansion. Flannery O’Connor, who lived on a farm with 40 peafowl, said about the carrying voices of these birds, “To the melancholy this sound is melancholy, and to the hysterical it is hysterical.” From a block away, and not photographed, we watched a feral cat walk out into the middle of a lane of Seguine Avenue and sit there, that placid-seeming cat-sitting attitude, as a raccoon ambled across its bow. Ok, enough with Surrealism for now. Wolfe’s Pond, namesake of Wolfe’s Pond Park. Pairs of ospreys and Foster’s Terns were hunting here, and a pair of Mute Swans lorded it over everybody else. The southeastern half of the park seems to be technically closed, since Sandy, but we walked right by some Parks employees who said nothing to us; we’d come via the beach.And a rocky beach it was in places, with Laughing Gulls on it.Also a dead Northern Gannet. I wanted you to see how big this beak is.And at the other end of the hand scale, this (half) inch-worm was making its way… We saw, and heard no sign of Brood II, but our real mission here will be detailed tomorrow.