Journal of a Sabbatical

June 1, 2000


a day in june




Today's Bird Sightings:
Plum Island
at my station
double crested cormorant
herring gull
seaside sparrow
American robin
brown thrasher
ruddy turnstone
black bellied plover
ring billed gull
northern rough winged swallow
great black back gull
common tern
bank swallow
killdeer
on the drive back to the gatehouse
eastern kingbird
common grackle
redwinged blackbird
mallard
American robin
herring gull
northern mockingbird
purple martin
great egret
starling
gray catbird
mute swan
snowy egret
semipalmated sandpiper
killdeer
American crow

Today's Reading: Summer: From the Journal of Henry D. Thoreau edited by H.G.O. Blake,
Uttermost Part of the Earth
by E. Lucas Bridges

Today's Starting Pitcher:
Ramón Martinez

2000 Book List
Plum Island Bird List

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Copyright © 2000, Janet I. Egan


Finally I've got a nice day to be working at the beach. And work I do. The parking lot is full at Sandy Point when I get there, including a school bus. There are tons of people on the beach. A couple of people are in the closed area when I arrive so I deal with them first. No problem.

Most of the shift there's a guy fishing near me. He's not catching anything. A woman with a baby arrives and tries to set up one of those portable sunshade tent things. She has thrown away the directions. After watching her for awhile, the fisherman goes over to help her. I walk down to the rocks and back a few times checking on things. The fisherman and the young mother are still struggling with the tent. They need a third person to hold something so I lend a hand. I can't help but think an ordinary beach umbrella would have been a whole lot easier. Finally, mother and baby are in the shade of their tent.

A group of nuns in full old-fashioned habits walks along the water line toward the boundary. They're barefoot. I watch them wade in the surf getting their skirts wet. The bus load of children, who look to be 2nd or 3rd graders, wanders through the tide pools as the tide goes out. They're carrying brightly colored plastic pails and appear to be divided into groups of 6 per adult. They seem oblivious to the barefoot nuns.

When the tide is way out, practically dead low tide, a guy walks by me talking on a cell phone. He doesn't see the sign or me and keeps right on walking right into the closed area. I'm way up by the wrack line so it takes me awhile to catch up with him. I feel weird interrupting his phone conversation. He turns around and walks back the other way still talking.

I chase down a father and son who also ignore the sign and me until I catch up to them. They don't seem happy about being told to stay out of the nesting area, but they're polite and respectful as they make their excuses and turn around to walk the other way.

The barefoot nuns approach the boundary way down at the water line so I start walking down there to head them off. They see me and turn around without my having to say anything. Then nuns would make a great picture but I don't think asking their permission after I've just looked them off the beach is such a great idea.

The ever gregarious Charlie of Lynnfield comes by for a chat. He notices the barefoot nuns too. People leave, more people come. Everybody seems to have picked this a as the first summer beach day. Most people see the sign and respect it without my having to say anything, but I'm constantly watching the people.

There are not a whole lot of birds around today. It's hot and hazy and the beach is busy. A pair of black-bellied plovers hangs around near the edge of the closed area but most of the other shorebirds are too far away to identify. A killdeer lands right in front of me so close the binoculars won't focus on it. A seaside sparrow lands on the pile of wrack that was occupied by the redwinged blackbird couple and their catbird friend last week. The sparrow doesn't stay long and is not as friendly as the yellow warbler pair I had last week either. A pretty quiet bird day.

I still haven't seen an actual piping plover this year. I have to take it on faith that they're really there. I see one of the biological staff out there surveying just before I leave, but I don't get to ask her if there's anymore nests. I think this is the latest I've gone without seeing one of my invisible little charges. But since keeping plovers and people apart is my goal, I can't be too disappointed at not seeing them.