Sitting on the Shore

April 30, 2023

American avocets in flight

Sitting on the shore, waiting, for what I do not know. Watching the avocets resting in the water on their long, blue legs. Every once in a while an eye pops open. A look at the sky. A look at the human. All is well, for now, they are safe. Able to rest yet able to move on a moment’s notice. Do they think about when they will leave, where they will go next on their travels? Or do they simply rest and wait until the moment appears?

American avocets in “breeding” plumage

Sitting on the shore, waiting, for what I do not know. A yellowlegs bobs past the avocets, moving slowly along the shore. A rhythmic dance - bob, bob, dip, pause. Smaller than the avocets and less content. Bright yellow legs, a pointy bill, and a long tongue. Snagging insects from the sand as he moves. More wary, knowing threats may appear. He flies around the human to the other end of the strip where he finds company. There is safety in numbers, even if they are not like you.

Lesser yellowlegs with a flock of pectoral sandpipers.

Sitting on the shore, waiting, for what I do not know. Yellowlegs has found a flock of pectoral sandpipers to forage with. Smaller still, the sandpipers move even faster on their shorter legs. Their dance has a different rhythm - bob, bob, scurry; dip, bob scurry. Running away from the group but always returning. They bob around the corner, further away and I wait to see if they will change direction.

Yellowlegs and pectoral sandpiper showing us their differences - and their similarities.

Sitting on the shore, waiting, for what I do not know. The swallows come in now as the bugs become more plentiful. Swooping and diving, paying no mind to the human or the other birds. Perhaps their speed makes them feel safe. Their rhythm is a zoom, a dive, and a swirl. Full of speed, playfully plucking bigs from the still water. I wonder if any of them will stay for the summer or if this flock is headed north.

Tree swallow on direct approach

Sitting on the shore, waiting, for what I do not know. A shadow crosses over, osprey circling for food. The avocets pay no mind but the yellow legs and sandpipers take off. They circle around, assess the threat and decide it is safe for now. This time they land closer to the human. How do they know what is safe and what is not?

Osprey does make a large shadow

Sitting on the shore, waiting, for what I do not know. The little sandpipers come closer until they are nearly up to the camera. It takes my breath away when they come this close. They pause occasionally give the human a look, decide she is safe, and continue their progress. Eventually, they run and fly around the human and continue down the shore. Are the bugs here good fuel for the long flight ahead?

Pectoral sandpiper checking out his reflection in the lens

Sitting on the shore, waiting. For something. For what I do not know. For the time to be right, for the door to appear, for clarity to emerge from the muddy water. Perhaps I was just waiting for the small sandpipers and swallows. Perhaps that’s enough for now.

It sure seems like enough.

This week has not gone according to plan and I’ve not been able to get out since Monday. Missing spring migration is its own kind of grief and I hope next week will be better. Such is life. Sometimes I really am “sitting on the shore, waiting.” I have so many unposted photos I could produce this newsletter for a year without taking another shot - and so many stories I’ve never told - but I really hope that doesn’t happen. If the universe throws you a curveball, I guess you find a way to bat.

Because there can never be too many photos of Avocets…right?

The little ones really do have attitude (pectoral sandpiper).

The barn swallows are beautiful too, especially if you catch them in the right light.

Take good care, friends. So many face such challenges right now. Wishing you open doors, clear paths and friendly winds.