Of fences, strangers, and waterbirds

Piping Plover photo from US Fish and Wildlife Service website by C. Perez

This past week we helped remove fencing from an area which safeguarded shorebirds during the breeding season.  The simple act of erecting a fence helps protect eggs and young chicks from clueless humans walking the shoreline.  The breeding season is over (what happened to summer?) and it's time to get the fencing, stakes, and signs out of the way until next year. 

We drove south from our inland location to the shoreline in all its vast openness.  As we get closer, we observe the tapering off of the conifers, oaks, and ash trees; the onslaught of smaller houses (mostly) nestled close together; and the flat openness of the landscape.  I never quite get over the fact that all that ocean is less than an hour away from our house.  We just don't visit enough.

The salty humidity complemented the hazy sunlight very well.  A good wind and some foreboding clouds completed the picture.  The night had been stormy with lightning and thunder sounding as though it was exploding over the house.  Rain forced us to close the windows so fans were racing madly to move the hot air around.  Overall, it wasn't a good night for sleeping.  But here at the beach, a good wind moved the wet air around and it was invigorating.

We met the conservation folks and the bird people.  The state conservation folks were welcoming but reserved.  They had seen people come and go.  Volunteers excited and involved one day often disappeared into the mist the next time they were needed.  Were we worth the extra effort?  Were we sane?  Yet, they gave us attention and kindly guided us as to where they wanted us to go and what they wanted us to do.  One of them had driven almost two hours to reach this spot and supervise these volunteers. 

The other volunteers gave us wan smiles in greeting.  I guess we were on their turf.  Perhaps they too were used to new people coming and going.  Perhaps they wanted to do their thing without inexperienced newbies getting in the way.  Who knows?  But we gamely twisted twine, pulled stakes, and saved signs.  With all of us working together, the job didn't take more than an hour. 

Now there was thunder and lightning on the horizon and the storm clouds were approaching. The day didn't invite dalliance.  But I admired these people's intimacy with their shoreline; and their quick knowledge of the birds crying and circling overhead.  Yet today was no time to delay and talk.  


Sometimes you have to come, do the work, and get out.  For the volunteers, perhaps we'll be worth the extra effort if we show up to help the next time.  To the birds, it didn't matter what we were doing, how masterful our bird identification skills were, or how intimately we knew the area, we couldn't leave their shoreline soon enough.