The piping plover 's nest is just a 



depression in the sand. The number 



of eggs, which are creamy white, 



speckled with brown, is usually three 



or four. 



I was as thrilled as if I had just witnessed a 

 miraculous apparition; but now that was gone and the 

 chicks were no longer to be seen. 



I now turned my attention to the adults, who were 

 still creating a riot as Earl pretended to be fooled by first 

 one and then another broken-wing act. The adults 

 were also beautifully camouflaged, with sand-colored 

 backs and heads. Their white underparts, reflecting the 

 sand, became the same color as the back. The black 

 band around the neck and the forehead slash, much 

 more prominent than in the chicks, conspired with the 

 black-tipped bill and the eyes to create the cryptic 

 broken line that shattered the now flat and sand- 

 colored object into three fragments. Of course, the 

 seven-inch long adults were much easier to see and 

 their stops and starts were not so dazzlingly swift. 



However, the plovers' long legs raise their bodies 

 sufficiently above their shadows cast on the sand to 

 nearly defeat the predator's scheme for breaking 

 through camouflage; watch the shadow to see the true 

 form of the wizard! The white underparts are not com- 

 pletely erased by the reflected color of the sand. Partic- 

 ularly on the breast and face, white is seen when the 

 bird is broadside or facing the observer and standing 

 still. When it moves, you see a streak of white that 

 might be a low-flying object, since the twinkling 

 orange-yellow legs are not noticed. But let the bird 

 just turn its back, even without moving forward, and it 

 disappears. 



Today the piping plover is in trouble. In December 

 the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service declared it an en- 

 dangered and threatened species. Quite possibly its 

 numbers have been reduced because our burgeoning 

 human populace has cut down the number of pristine 

 beaches; moreover, in those beaches that do remain. 



our recreational activities take place during the critical 

 months of June and July, when nesting occurs. 



This is not the first time that the birds have suffered 

 from human intrusion. Before 1900 the species was 

 almost wiped out by shorebird hunting during the 

 spring and fall migrations, and in that year the federal 

 government put a ban on hunting the piping plover 

 year-round. By the 1920s, it was again common on the 

 Eastern Seaboard, but I am not sure that it was ever 

 really abundant. Perhaps the piping plover is one of 

 those fragile species that prefers remote wilderness 

 places. With their large and beautiful eyes, with plum- 

 age soft and spotless, they typify for me the same kind 

 of wild, unalarmed innocence that I have seen in 

 Thompson's gazelles, gazing at my Land Rover as it 

 roared across the East African plains. 



From Saskatchewan to Nova Scotia, south to the 

 southern Great Lakes, the beaches of lakeshore and 

 seashore are where the pipers' nests are under attack. 

 On New York's Long Island only 100 breeding pairs are 

 currently reported, and only 17 breeding pairs are re- 

 corded in the entire Great Lakes region. The southern 

 beaches from Georgia to Texas and northern Mexico 

 are also under siege, and the plaintive call of the piping 

 clover and the lost-soul cries of curlews, which are the 

 voices of such wild places, are now less often heard. 



Fragile they are, and a new human ethic is needed 

 to recognize that these are fellow species on the planet 

 who have a right to exist, not for what they do for us, 

 but for their own sake. Fragile, yes. But I have seen the 

 ancient castle ruins of Europe and know that it is the 

 soft, living things endlessly replicating a fine-honed 

 genetic code, that endure. 



Dr. Beecher is director emeritus of the Chicago Academy of Sciences. 



