Lessons (Not) Learned from Snowy Plovers
By Rachel Hudson
As most of my friends know, shorebirds are my favorite group of birds. Many people in my life also know that I love to spend quality time with each species of bird that I encounter… I want to personally witness and learn something fun about the birds I get to see and enjoy.
After a long, trying few months over this fall, I decided that I just had to go and find my shorebirds, not only to learn something new about them, but to help clear my mind and regain my footing on the solid, healing ground I knew as the Great Outdoors. I checked recent reports for various coastal birds, and quickly settled on Snowy Plovers as my target. I’ve seen Snowies on multiple occasions over the past 8 years, but I had never gotten to spend much one-on-one time, so to speak, with the species.
This time, my morning-only day trip would take me to Fort Stevens in Oregon, a place I go to bird quite often, especially for shorebirds. There, on Social Security Beach, a large flock of Snowy Plovers had been hanging around, as they typically do there in the wintertime. Though I hadn’t actually been to Social Security Beach itself (the years-long jetty construction work has always intimidated me too much to try to take the same entrance as the work vehicles), I was confident this time, arriving not long after sunrise on a Sunday morning. All quiet… no workers. Perfect.
I saw almost nothing on my near-2-mile-walk along the beach, just 2 Black-bellied Plovers, a small handful of Sanderlings and Dunlin, and a few gulls that I never even bothered to look at. The sun was bright, the wind was stiff, and the temps in the low 30’s. When I reached the jetty rocks at the end of the beach, I found around 1,000 Dunlin resting there, but nothing else. I watched them for a short while, but the sand where I was had created a vortex around me in the heavy wind, so that no matter where I was facing, I was getting sand in my eyes.
I turned around and started to head back, disappointed that my Snowies weren’t there, but still hopeful that I would find them nearer the dune grass on the return trip. And sure enough, not much later, I saw two fluttering objects in the wind that were flying against it, and thus weren’t trash or leaves… my Snowies! There were twenty-six of them, in a somewhat close group around a few very small pieces of driftwood and debris. I got as close to them as I felt comfortable with, plenty far enough away to avoid disturbing them, then sat down just off the sand on a small plank-like piece of driftwood.
I watched them for a long time, laughing when they did cute and funny things such as preening at awkward angles and floofing out their feathers, but for the most part, they just rested. After a while with no activity, I decided that I would try to “meditate” with them… I wanted to try my best to clear my mind and de-stress a bit. After all, that was part of why I was there. So, I mimicked what they were doing… they were bundled up in fluffy orb forms, beaks to the wind, dear little eyes closed in the sunshine. I, too, turned to sit facing the wind, tucked my hands deep in my coat pockets, curled up tightly, and closed my eyes, letting the sun warm my wind-seared face. I tried my very best to be calm and still… “Become one with the Snowy Plovers,” I thought. “Do as they do… Feel what they feel…”
However, as someone whose mind cannot be still, as well as someone who is highly sensitive to sound, I could only last half a minute at a time before I would open my eyes to investigate a possible bird sound nearby. Once, though, while my eyes were closed, I could hear, almost within my body, the rush of hundreds of wings and the pleasant chirps of Dunlin as they soared right over me. I had over 2,000 Dunlin in that resting flock by this point.
I gave up on meditating amongst the Snowies after an uncertain amount of time, maybe 5 minutes, maybe 10, and went back to watching them. It seemed like more birds were becoming active now, and I wanted to see what they would do. Soon, I learned my special “Something New” about these cute, fluffy, innocent little creatures… and I could hardly contain my laughter when I realized what was happening.
Here is what I learned…
Every time a Snowy Plover wakes up… it chooses violence.
It was the most hilarious and baffling thing. They would all be peacefully snoozing away, then a few birds would stir, and one would get up, flatten its body in a threatening posture, and dart toward another Snowy, aggressively chasing it away… then they would all go back to sleep. Rinse and repeat with different individuals a few yards away. Over and over again! I could tell from a distance when one was being chased because it would jump up into the air like a brilliant white piece of popcorn, there would be a brief scuffle, then all would be quiet once more.
“Become one with the Snowies, huh?” I thought. “Do as they do? So… does that mean I also have to wake up each day and choose violence?” I couldn’t help but chuckle. I doubt that’s true for all Snowies, but it sure was true for this flock!
Eventually, when the crowds and cars on the beach reached my personal tipping point, I had to leave my aggressive little shorebird companions behind and head for home. Even though I hadn’t really succeeded in my attempt at calm, peaceful meditation among the Snowies, at least my spirits were lifted, and I have had great fun retelling this story; it will be a memory I will always cherish.
Photo credit: Snowy Plovers, from Peace to Violence, all by Rachel Hudson.