The Ringing Chatter of Semipalmated Plovers
Several Snowy Egrets fed together, spearing into the water with long thin bills, and lifting thin black legs to show a golden-yellow foot now and then. Three Brown Pelicans stood placidly in the pools.
A couple of Great Egrets, a Great Blue Heron and three or four Tri-colored Herons hunted in shallow water, and one pair of Buffleheads floated in the distance, small black and white ducks with big white patches on the sides of the head. Forster’s Terns hovered, shimmered and plunged into the water. Ospreys flew over on their way to and from the edge of the ocean. One Osprey bathed in a shallow pool. A mature Bald Eagle sailed directly overhead, silent, wings spread wide, white head and tail brilliant against a deep blue sky.
It seemed unreal, to be here like this. Each evening we watched the news on TV, and in the mornings, listened to NPR. An earthquake and tsunami had devastated Japan, and a nuclear crisis was beginning to unfold. Uprisings and conflict in the Middle East brought new chapters of change every day. And in the U.S. Congress, a painful, willful ignorance of reality seemed to prevail.
But here – four Semipalmated Plovers scurried around actively in the mudflats and sandy areas around the lagoons – and they were calling – a chirpy, chattery, rich series of varied whistles. I don’t think I’ve ever heard them calling like this before. They called several times, mostly as they flew from spot to spot – not while walking around and foraging.