"Peeps Give Me A Headache!" Plover, Sandpiper Or Lover

Top left and right: Semipalmated sandpiper, Lower left: Spotted sandpiper, Lower right: White-rumped sandpiper. The photos were all taken on the same day at Totman Cove.

 "Peeps" is birding slang for any of a number of North American sandpipers. Their vocalizations are numerous versions of the sound, "peep peep peep." Even though it's only the first week of August, they are beginning to congregate for migration, so there are a lot more of them around these days. The youngsters accompany their parents, adding to the numbers and also the difficulty of identifying them. The plumage of the newbies is not as distinct as they will be next year. They also move really fast on the ground and in flight, so it's hard to get a good look, unless you can get a photograph. And as we know, that presents its own challenges. They can be seen singly, as in the case of the Solitary Sandpiper pictured below, or in large groups skimming the water surface in wheeling arcs. Peeps and plovers, at the end of summer, separate the men from the boys (as my father would have said) in the world of birding identifications.

These two photos of Semipalmated sandpipers were taken within a second of one another as the birds turned en masse against the sunlight, making them look like completely different birds. I was whizzing along in our small boat when they whizzed by me even faster. I nearly broke my neck and fell out of the boat trying to turn fast enough to photograph them. My husband, the helmsman says he would like advance notice when I intend to spin in my seat like that, lest I tip us over. Imagine that. In my efforts to be sure about identifications, before opening my mouth or zipping the keyboard beneath my fingers, I have spent way too much time beating myself up plowing through bird books. Ultimately, I'm probably wrong anyway. If I have mis-identified any of these, I'm sure my loyal readership will let me know. It's a lot more fun racing around in a tin boat with a boyfriend than it is looking through field guides anyway. I'll leave the academics of birding to those with less imagination than I have.  

This is a Spotted sandpiper beautifully camouflaged against the rocks. I've only seen them one at a time and always like this scurrying across the rocks.

Solitary Sandpipers don't hang out with other sandpipers. I only see one or two a year. When I took this shot, I thought I was photographing another Spotted Sandpiper, which I had just seen moments before. It wasn't until I developed the photo that I realized they were not one in the same.

This isn't a sandpiper at all, it's a Semipalmated plover. I know - you think this is a typo, since I just said that one of the birds pictured above is a Semipalmated sandpiper. Since it isn't a sandpiper, but a plover, it's not a peep, either, even though it looks cute enough to be called a "peep." Do you see now why they all give me a headache?

August Is The High Season - Summer Terns

Semipalmated plover atop giant net floats - Lobster Cove, Phippsburg, Maine

Juvenile, Common terns vocalizing to its mother for food - Totman Cove, Phippsburg, Maine

Common terns ignoring young pestering for food or maybe it was mooning me! The full moon often looks orange in summer rising through heat and haze on the earth's surface.

"E" is for ecstasy. "W" is for wild. Those words crown all that we do in these moments of summer. August is "high season" here in The Burg. We have had  a glorious summer weather-wise, which means that we've been unrelentingly busy. Weeds and lawns keep growing even though we'd like to quit. Everything around us seems full to the point of out of control. My garden is busting at the seams. The lilies are enormous and toppling over. All the fledged birds are bickering at the feeders along with their parents. The Ruby-throated hummingbirds are fighting each other over feeder territories. The raccoon youngsters are rifling the feeders at night rousting our dog, then us, from sleep. Acorns are falling from the oaks set into free fall by porcupine young lolling at the ends of the fresh growth in the tree tops. Totman Cove is teaming with mackerel, Striped bass and fry just right for the terns. We hear the Blue Fin tuna are running hard just off from Sequin and everyone is talking about it. The Common terns are chattering constantly not giving us a moments peace punctuated only by the pee-ooo pee-oo of ospreys. It feels like everyone on the eastern seaboard with a boat is here sailing, fishing and motoring. There aren't enough evenings for cocktails with all of our friends, days to boat, swim, eat, garden or even just breathe it all in fast enough. Because, suddenly, it will be over.

     For all of this nearly maddening plenitude, any moment now, it will all stop. This is the great crescendo when breeding, seeding, weeding and sunny days have reached their critical mass. Fall will be here feeling quite sudden, though I can see the signs. The Monarch butterflies have made a couple of appearances, lilting around the flowers. They are the first of the migraters to Mexico. One or two of the fall blooming anemones have opened. The first asters have opened intertwined with fading roses. With the summer terns, summer is turning. It's bittersweet. But, honestly, I can't keep up this pace. Truth be told, my old skin can't take any more sun nor salt. My back feels broken and my brain needs quiet time. A few more days on our little boat with my husband or afternoons naked in the swimming pool will be all I need. Then, I'll be looking for a jacket to wrap me against the next full, cool moon.