 Shore Legs I sat quite comfortably on a dark green lawn chair in the east pasture. Coffee was at hand and the clouds of a cool low pressure system slid overhead traveling towards the northeast. The dogs, familiar with my early morning coffee routine, took this opportunity to strew themselves about on the wet grass and occasionally raise a nose to sniff the scents brought to them on the light wind. A doe deer slowly made her way across the open field and I marveled at how she disappeared into dips in the field where no dips appeared to exist. Directly in front of me, through a screen of poplar trees, the pasture pond reflected a yellow light. From my vantage point I couldn’t actually see the smaller birds that I suspected were gathered on the fast-shrinking shoreline, but I could see ducks and hear an occasional Killdeer call. But Killdeer’s go without saying. The only time there are no Killdeer by the pond is in the dead of winter. Then a piping bird call pieced the air. The sound appeared to come from the direction of the pond. My first thought was “it sounds much like an Osprey - perhaps it is an Osprey, one can always hope.” The sound repeated, clear and loud. I raised my head, pulled back my hood and listened. There was no doubt it came from the pond. If it were an Osprey it would most likely be coming from the direction of the creek. This was a shorebird calling, so despite my comfortable position an investigation was required. When dealing with shore birds it is important to have the right tools so I returned to the house for my spotting scope, and took along my coffee cup for a quick refill before returning to the pasture. The dogs stirred to new levels of excitement at the sight of me carrying something that potentially symbolized an impending walk. The dogs’ excitement quickly became dismay when I returned to the lawn chair and sat with the scope standing to my right like a sentinel. The dogs could not grasp my lack of enthusiasm; why sit in one spot and identify shorebirds when I could be running around chasing ground squirrels. I sipped my coffee and decided that should the sound reoccur I would go and investigate. I waited and once more heard the sound. By now one dog had tired of our molasses-like pace and returned to the house. The other dog seemed more able to spot incremental progress and remain inspired, so I was accompanied over the rolling terrain. As I walked I mentally reviewed an unexpected sighting this pond delivered just a few days ago – a Long-billed Curlew. That particular morning I hadn’t bothered to investigate the pond. I only saw the unexpected bird when it flew over the yard in the late afternoon. The best way of approaching shorebirds standing by an exposed pond is to scrutinize the scene from far away then moving slowly forward. My first stop-and-stare revealed a Long-billed Dowitcher, a Yellowlegs, ten Killdeer and a few Mallards. Could any of these birds make the sound that I’d heard from my lawn chair? I didn’t think so. I crept closer, not the least bit perturbed by a dog leading the way. Nothing calms Ducks as much as a canine form moving about with nose to the ground. But what about the Shorebirds? Would they see a dog as a threat? My thinking went like this: The shorebirds would take confidence from the Ducks. And if the Ducks are calmed by the presence of a dog then the Shorebirds would also be relaxed. All worked well. I worked my way past the screen of trees and was on open ground when I heard a distress sound, not the call that originally drew me towards the pond, but another – the call of small Sandpipers. By now I’d assessed the shorebirds. The Yellowlegs was a Lesser, the Long-billed Dowitcher I’d already identified, and adding to the mix, a Solitary Sandpiper. The sudden appearance of small Sandpipers was new. I do like small Sandpipers, but as much as they have an allure, they also come with a warning – You will never be completely happy with the identity you reach even after staring at them for hours. Perhaps other birders don’t feel this way but they probably settle on identification far too easily. Given that the subjects I prepared to examine were much smaller than many of the other shorebirds I’d have to shorten my distance even more. “Four feet isn’t close enough,” I grumbled. I could hear a few of the Ducks take flight when I propped the scope firmly for a good look at the little pests. There they stood; three of them, all different by degrees, and they were going to be fun to identify. I moved closer then closer still. Small Sandpipers all have similar profiles; they feature tear-drop shaped bodies set horizontally with short, but long for their size, legs. Heads like little cupboard door knobs with tiny, but long for their size, beaks. They are cookie-cutter birds with miniscule differences that distinguish each species. Salient details are leg colour, beak shape, primary feather projection, and posture. Sounds like a lot to go on but its not. As is often the case, and it was no different on this particular morning, every one of the three small Sandpipers looked different from the other – not greatly different, but just different enough. Now it was down to business. The palest one had dark legs, the other two, more greenish. All had varying degrees of buffy to grey coloured chests, and all had differing densities of feather colouring on their backs. The two with the palest legs fed on the mud in a slightly crouched posture, the other not so much. None seemed to have great primary projection (the amount the wingtips extend beyond the tail.) So deeply enmeshed was I in gathering these various details I almost missed the call that brought me here. But there it was again – a clear Osprey-like piping. I spun the scope toward the Lesser Yellowlegs. I could see its beak open in sync with the call. One mystery solved – three others, ongoing. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
