June
2008 | by Ed
Mirsky
A
plover rests
in a cup of sand.
Windswept
shore.
The first
breath of life.
Have
you ever seen
a rock scamper
across
the
beach sand? I
have! Have
you ever seen
a small bird
move hesitantly,
then squat
down seemingly
turning itself
into a rock?
I have! If
you want to
see such things,
look across
the sand and
beach rocks
above the high-tide
line, and you
too will see
this happen.
For this is
the realm of
the Snowy Plover.
A diminutive
bird of sand
and shore.
And
during the
breeding season
there are other
sights to behold.
You may see
wind-blown sand
sweep across
the beach and
over the head
and back of
a female Snowy
Plover (let's
call her Snowy)
crouching in
a shallow depression
sculptured
in the sand.
Snowy's eyes
are almost closed;
her head is
held low. She
remains motionless,
cryptic, frozen
in stillness,
her pale sandy-beige
plumage making
her nearly
invisible. It's
early March,
and she is
keeping three
to six eggs
warm against
the skin of
her belly. They
are probably
mostly her
eggs, though
some may be
eggs of one
of her neighbors
who may have
stolen into
her nest when
she wasn't looking.
The eggs will
hatch in a few
days and the
precocial chicks
will move hesitantly
on the sand,
giving the impression
of pebbles
rolling free
until they bump
up against a
small stone
or a mound of
beach kelp.
Snowy
walked out on
her mate after
the eggs hatched,
leaving him to
raise the kids
(sorry chicks).
He will remain
faithful to his
chicks protecting
them from potential
predators by
employing an innate
broken-wing or
a tail-drag display
to lead them away
from the chicks.
And although he
will not feed
the chicks, he
will lead them
to suitable feeding
areas. Within
a month the young
will be able
to fend for themselves.
Meanwhile, after
leaving her ex
to raise the
young-uns, Snowy
has taken up with
a new beau and
is raising another
family just down
the beach. But
rumor has it that
not all of the
eggs in her nest
are hers, but
rather those of
another female
who caught the
fancy of her new
beau. After all,
serial polyandry
is common in
Southern California
, even among demure
little beach birds.
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