Where did May go? Summer is not summer without the arctic, but somehow June too has vanished. How did a simple feature from Photoshop appear in my life and not only that- it became a eraser of time. The Time Tool. T3
Many years ago Edward L. Chalif, beloved by nearly all who knew him, took advantage (in a GOOD WAY) of a young boy whose parents needed some time away from his curious mind. I was dropped off at Chilmark Community Center in August of 1960. My brother was too, but due to the vanishing tool of time, duly noted above, he disappears in this story.
There were other people in the car with us also, but they are now gone. Prothonotary Warbler did not vanish. But this short story is about two shorebirds. Too large to be called sandpipers by most people these birds left an indelible impression still fresh 51 years later.
In those days, no one knew Martha's Vineyard was exclusive. We just thought it was a long ferry ride to run on the deck of The Islander. the fact that we could throw food to gulls just made it Awesome. Oops, awesome, that word did not exist in 1960.
In those days, you could begin a hike on the great south beach, and just go. One or more of the large ponds might need to be crossed with care as the drainage to the ocean could be really full and roaring. In those days, one could jump on a one speed bike and cruise for birds from Chilmark to Edgartown and back. Most of those longer bike rides came in later summers with my friend Peter. That damn time tool is at it again. Some how the period from August of 1960 to September of 1970 wants to be remembered as one huge summer.
A bad pair of binoculars was fine, too heavy or too light anything helped. 7x40 or 7x32 seemed to be quite common models and of course we only had one REAL field guide- Peterson's. Apologies Richard and Don, but when you went to a book store and asked about birds....
My binoculars were handed down from my grandfather in Missouri. Remnants of WW I. Compared to most anything of this new fangled age, they were horrible. But the invasion of products from Japan was limited to transistor radios. What's that you say? ... damn T3 again.
From Edgartown you turned south to Katama along the way various small roads most all dirt would leave the main narrow pavement. Barely 2 real lanes went all the way south until the tall dunes were the final barrier to the Atlantic. We stopped to check the ocean and the bay side, but at 8 I had seen these things, scurrying along the waves picking and picking. They were nothing special.
Piling back into the car, we passed through a thin and small woodland before emerging on a field nearby. There my dull trance was broken in the softer, late afternoon.
In a field filled with golden light, were brown flocks of birds. They were shorebirds. Not sandpipers. They looked to be in the army- determined and hurrying to eat in these fields.
Those binoculars from World War I must have been set aside. Someone had to lend me a better pair - Bausch & Lomb or perhaps a good bit of German glass. I'll never know. Because I have been talking to people about that moment ever since, it is clear and powerful- golden and green. With one brown bird and one tan one, and Eddie's voice.
Tan. Upland Sandpipers are the epitome of elegance and grace. Perhaps dancers or gymnasts of the shorebird world.
Brown. Whimbrels are the farmers- tougher than they look , but when you shake their hand you know it. So maybe steelworker of the shorebirds. They exude strength.
So in my eyes on that day long ago, how did a tan bird and a brown bird so powerfully capture my attention?
Within one binocular fields view at least one Whimbrel strode alongside one Uppie. Perhaps as close as 3 feet apart but on what seemed for that moment a parallel track, subtle differences did show through. The leg color, the head shape and color, but mostly and shockingly was the shape of the two species bills.
One short and straight- one longer and decurved. Decurved. I didn't even know the word! One yellowish with a dark tip, the other primarily dark. The head streaks on the Whimbrel and the big gentle eye of the Uppie.
Here were two birds - two species- doing about the same thing in the same location but with two very different bills to gather food with. As a young birder, this was a very important moment in my life. I could not understand why those bills were so distinctly different. I looked and asked "why?" The question burned into my brain so that I remember that moment of deep questioning, stunned in a manner which is unanswerable.
No Time tool can erase these moments.
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