The Sanderling 



and a hundred Pipers more ; they know the feel of soft wet sand and they 

 know the flavor of sand-fleas seasoned with a gulp of brine. But for one 

 bird and one only is the highest place reserved. For within this special 

 belt there is a very special line, a sinuous line which not in all Earth's 



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Taken in Santa Barbara 



HESITATION 



Photo by the Author 



history was ever twice the same, a line which has broken into a billion 

 new curves while these words are being read. It is the edge of the wave 

 which the Sanderling follows, and he is the Shore-bird par excellence. 



The armies of Sanderlings constitute the most mobile militia in the 

 world. They are not fighters, but they are eternally foraging, and they 

 are as skilled in retreat as in pursuit. They charge upon the very heels 

 of the retreating wave, snatching deftly the rations which the enemy has 

 discarded; then turning at the exact moment when the waves are rallying, 

 they scamper blithely just out of reach of their roaring antagonist. For- 

 ward and back, forward and back, they patter in ceaseless rhythm. 

 Indeed, they seem themselves to be a part of the tidal mechanism, for 

 they are swept along at the brink of the wave, a yeasty vanguard with 

 foam-white breasts; and then, dor so verso, they disappear like bursting 

 bubbles, blending their colors with the sands, which rustle with the wave's 

 retreat. 



It is a matter of pride with the Sanderling not to get wet more than 

 belly-deep; hence, if need be, he accepts a little assistance from the lifted 

 wing in running up-shore. None knows better than he the degree of a 

 wave's determination, and though he has perfected a mighty stride and 

 can pedal like the wind, flight, too, can be as instant. Being by habit so 



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