A special treat of late summer in Cape May is the flock of Black Skimmers and Royal Terns that rest and spend the daylight hours half asleep, crowded beside each other on the beach near the 2nd Ave. jetty.
They present a curious site to beach-goers, I imagine, and always make me chuckle at just how relaxed a posture many take. How often do we get to see birds sleeping, after all?
: )
I wandered out the fisherman’s trail at Sandy Hook late this afternoon, mainly to see the flock of Black Skimmers that nested there – for the first time in 25 years – but also just to enjoy some time alone. The day was perfect; warm and breezy and the throngs of beach-goers were heading in the opposite direction from me. I had the beach to myself, save for the fishermen and a couple other birders.
A couple Ruddy Turnstones wandered by and had a bath as the tide rose around us. Turnstones seem nearly as tame as the Sanderlings, yet they’re much more gregarious.
Funny that I’m slowly learning the temperaments of shorebirds, even if I can’t identify them most of the time!
The terns here at Sandy Hook seem like they’re mostly done with feeding young, but still are spending a lot of time flying around, calling, with fish in their bills. Maybe parenthood is a hard habit to break. Maybe this fish was a bit too big and it was calling as an invitation to share.
A mystery for another summer, I guess.
The Black Skimmer colony is a joy… a finely choreographed chaos of long-winged birds and enough barking to drown out the sounds of the surf. Just amazing!
I couldn’t get anywhere near as close as to those in yesterday’s post (of the flock at the 2nd Ave. jetty in Cape May) but this is an active colony, with young birds not yet able to fly. By mistake I scared a couple fuzzy chicks out from their hiding spots behind bits of driftwood… that was enough to stop me in my tracks.
This pic is sweet, I think, because it shows the way that improbable bill of theirs lengthens and develops color as they age. The oldest bird, on the far left, was able to fly… the others not. I saw a couple that looked younger than even that one on the far right.
I feel very blessed that we have them breeding so close to home and hope they’ll be back at Sandy Hook next summer…
Always there’s one little Sanderling and I; this one almost too close for my camera.
: )
Here’s hoping your Labor Day was filled with similar pleasures.
Say yes to a ridiculous idea.
Inhale deeply the scent of a beloved pet.
Walk barefoot on the beach.
Remember all the times you never thought you’d make it this far.
Ask a small child to help you paint your toenails.
Dance to that one song…
Take a nap.
Do something creative.
Have something wonderful read aloud to you.
Wear a shortish dress to show off your long legs. Accept all compliments graciously and with a wide smile.
Treat yourself. Maybe to ice-cream. Or fresh flowers.
Give away love everywhere and any way you can.
Go to the farmer’s market and buy a pint of strawberries, then eat them quietly in your living room when you are all by yourself.
Make funny faces at very small children when their parents aren’t looking.
Work out. Not to be skinny, but because becoming strong will make you feel powerful and confident in so many other ways.
Show up even if you don’t know what to say.
Water the garden.
Take time off. Travel. Meet strangers where and how they live; get a larger perspective of the world and its people and your place in it.
Read an old love letter as a reminder that you have been adored.
Sit with the ocean or under a huge old oak.
Want what you want just because you want it.
Compliment a total stranger.
Buy one bar of lovely dark chocolate and eat one tiny square a day like it is the secret to life and liberty.
– – – – – – – – – – –
Care to add to the list? What makes you happy no matter what? Let’s make a list we just can’t help but love!
I’d wanted to write
about night herons
and their delight in the lowest tides
their thankless patience
their red eyes and startling cries in the gloom of night
or the careful scrutiny of a gull’s eye
under the august sun
as the tide goes out
and sanderling plunder the wrack-line at my feet
instead there’s the moon rising, lopsided and yellow
the promise of a little prince, enjoyed together
this deliberate probing of a heart’s memory
and the shared revelation
of a whimbrel’s decurved bill.
Yet another vacant lot in Asbury Park where urban blight is being reimagined daily as art (or kitsch?) The long abandoned foundation pillars were wrapped in colorful fabric months ago by a local artist; the stone cairns and mementos left behind lately seem a futile offering to the fickle gods of real estate development.
*from Memento Mori by Billy Collins
These made me smile today.
Linda lets me borrow her kids from time to time, to amuse myself from behind the camera. I love the open, unguarded faces of children. I love these particular children for their brown skin and laughing eyes, for the babytalk we share in Spanish, for the silliness they’re learning from their mom.
