Journal of a Sabbatical
The Plover Warden Diaries

June 14, 1999

shiny fish and screaming man

June 14, 1999
Plum Island

33 double-crested cormorants
3 common terns
1 least tern
3 ring-billed gulls
5 herring gulls
1 great black-backed gulls
1 great egret
7 snowy egrets
1 tricolored heron
4 willets
1 greater yellowlegs
1 gray catbird
3 eastern kingbirds
3 American robins
5+ redwinged blackbirds
3 brown-headed cowbirds
1 yellow warbler (female)
1 mourning dove
1 killdeer
8 mallards
4 Canada geese
infinite purple martins and tree swallows
3 red foxes
1 piping plover

Reading: Before the Dawn by Shimazaki Toson, The Storm Petrel and the Owl of Athena by Louis J. Halle, The Boy Allies in the Balkan Campaign by Clair Hayes

The AM shift plover warden I relieved was someone I know from the cat shelter. We chatted a bit about whether she'd gotten the latest issue of the volunteer newsletter, and other cat shelter stuff. Small world.

It was a relief to be on the beach away from the oppressive humidity and heat on the other side of the dunes, never mind in downtown Newburyport. It was at least 10 degrees cooler next to the water, and a breeze from the south made it feel more like there was some air to breathe.

The tide was still coming in when I got there, and I actually had to move my chair back a little ways to keep from getting wet. By the looks of the piles of wrack, there was much higher high tide over the weekend than we had today. As the waves were breaking, I noticed eruptions of jumping shiny silver fish just ahead of the curl. The schools of shiny fish looked like showers of sparks. A larger fish must have been chasing them, but all I could see was the silver sparkling when they broke the surface.

The beach was really quiet today. Very few visitors came as far as the refuge boundary. I was kind of in a zone watching the shiny fish when I heard someone yelling and pounding his fist into his palm. A man was stomping angrily over the dunes giving the finger to someone or something behind him. He approached me and said he needed an isolated spot to scream into the ocean and would I please let him onto the closed area for this. I said no firmly, while fingering the radio button. He backed off and told me he'd just spent 11 years on the west coast and screaming was very therapeutic and then went on about some woman who was pushing his buttons and something about his mother and all women and so on. He jumped into the water to wash off the "psychic dross" then sat on the beach talking and screaming to himself as he pounded his fist into his palm.

Some visitors who really wanted to see piping plovers came a long and I gave them the whole story of nests and eggs and incubation and the whole nine yards while the screaming man continued with his agenda. They said they'd be just down the beach if I needed help. They asked a ton of questions about the plovers and other shorebirds. They'd seen a plover doing the foot trembling thing that's characteristic of plovers when they feed and wanted to know what it was. I explained that they stir up the sand to get at the organisms that live there so they can eat them. They were impressed with my knowledge and enthusiasm. I guess I just blossom when somebody actually wants to talk about the plovers instead of the beach closure.

After my shift, I went into Newburyport for a late lunch, came back to the refuge to look for some birds, and then drove down to Sandy Point to take a walk and see if that friendly plover from yesterday was still around. It was, and it walked right up to me so I got today's terrific picture.