Plovers 



of the upper beaches, a brooding bird that knows enough to keep 

 still in the presence of a passer-by, runs little risk of detection. 

 The three clay colored eggs, evenly and rather finely spotted 

 and speckled with brown, that are laid directly on the sand, 

 require little incubating, however, beyond what the sunshine 

 gives them ; but the parents never stroll so far away from their 

 treasures that they may not return instantly danger threatens and 

 run or swoop about the visitor, imploring retreat. Gentle, unsus- 

 picious manners give these birds half their charm. Their grace 

 of motion, another characteristic, suffers little by comparison with 

 that of the terns not infrequently found nesting among them. 

 On the ground all plovers excel in sprightliness; every move- 

 ment is quick and free; and on the wing, also, these describe all 

 manner of exquisite evolutions, half turning in the air to show now 

 the upper, now the under side of the bodies; now sailing on 

 long, decurved, motionless wings; now hovering an instant 

 before alighting, stretching their wing tips high above the back 

 a beautiful posture that the terns have evidently copied. 



Quite closely resembling the semipalmated plover in plu- 

 mage, this species may always be known by its large, heavy bill, 

 the largest, in proportion to the size of the bird, any plover has, 

 and by the absence of a bright eye ring that, with the partial 

 webbing of its toes, are the ring-neck's diagnostic features. Small 

 flocks of Wilson's plover reach Long Island every summer, but 

 rarely touch the New England coast. The morsel of flesh on its 

 plump little breast should seem not worth the hunting by healthy 

 men, whose appetites need no coaxing. One who little under- 

 stands the ways of gunners might think a bird smaller than a 

 robin would suffer little persecution. 



Dr. Coues describes this plover's note as half a whistle, half a 

 chirp, quite different from the other plovers' calls; but a plaintive 

 quality can be detected in it, too, as in the voices of most beach 

 birds, that reflect something of the mystery and sadness of the 

 sea. In his lines to "The Little Beach Bird," that are appli- 

 cable to a dozen species, Richard Henry Dana emphasizes the 

 contrast between the joyous songs of land birds and the melan- 

 choly, plaintive strains of those that live along the sea. 



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