304 
FOREST AND STREAM 
July, 1921 
BIRDS OF NATURE S TIDES 
THE BIRDS OF “NO MAN’S LAND” BETWEEN THE WET AND 
DRY, COMPRISING PLOVERS, TATTLERS, STINTS, SNIPES, ETC. 
By J. T. NICHOLS, Associate Editor FOREST AND STREAM 
W AVES advancing and retreating 
on the shore are symbolic of the 
ebb and flow, the constant swing 
backward and forward, which marks 
the balance between nature’s diverse 
elements. There is a group of birds in- 
timately associated with the shifting 
no-man’s-land between the wet and the 
dry; and it is the purpose of this essay 
to call attention to how their habits are 
moulded so that they avail themselves 
of ground alternately dried and inun- 
dated. They are the shore-birds or 
Limicolae comprising plovers, tattlers, 
stints, snipe, and so forth. Wherever 
such ground occurs, there is an open- 
ing for some shore-bird. 
II 
The waves of the ocean on long 
stretches of sandy shore are followed 
backward and forward by some of 
the smaller shore-birds. Various spe- 
cies are associated with the changing 
tides which twice daily expose bars of 
mud in the bays and sand along the 
ocean shores; rich treasuries of small 
crustaceans, mollusks and marine 
worms on which they feed. Pale-backed, 
knot and black-breast plover, with its 
smaller companion the turnstone, feed 
on the sand bars and dowitchers probe 
the mud flats with their long bills. Here 
also numerous little ringneck plover run 
abount or stand motionless, their dark 
brown backs and secant* markings of 
their heads and breasts rendering them 
difficult to see when so standing. Clouds 
of the smaller species, collectively 
known as “ox-eyes” on Long Island 
shores, also frequent the flats. The 
greater yellowleg is, to a considerable 
extent, a tide bird frequenting the flats 
as also the muddy margins of creeks 
which thread the marshes, when these 
are exposed by the falling tide. 
Along the ocean shore between the 
drift at high water mark and the dunes 
there are frequently level dry strips 
dotted with old bleached clam-shells. 
This is an area rarely claimed by storm 
tides and winds of winter, and where 
in warmer months the nesting piping 
plover’s pale colors match the dazzling 
sand, as its mellow plaintive notes 
drift through the warm sunshine. 
To what extent this dry sand area 
figures as a shore-bird habitat is a 
little uncertain, but it was on a shore 
* Certain bold color markings, which break up 
a bird’s outlines, are supposed thereby to ren- 
der it less conspicuous when standing motion- 
less. These are technically known as “secant 
markings.” » 
of this sort in the Carolinas that I first 
met with the oyster-catcher. I had 
landed on the sand point which bounds 
the inlet to Beaufort harbor on the 
east. Back from the sea side and 
above high-water mark, was a consid- 
erable strip of low flat dry shell-strewn 
sand. Behind this the ground rose 
gently, dotted v/ith grotesque lifeless 
skeletons of bushes and small straggly 
trees, evidently appearing again after 
a period of submergence beneath drift- 
ing dunes which had swept back from 
the point over their heads. 
A high warm wind was sweeping in 
from the south, streaking the sea with 
tier on tier of hurrying white-caps. 
The sky and air were heavy with haze, 
sometimes the sun burning through to 
deluge everything in a soft but blind- 
ing glare. It was a scene of the ut- 
most wildness and uncanny desolation. 
A flock of probably a couple of hun- 
dred close-bunched small Limicolae 
was wheeling dizzily over the dry flats 
to windward and between me and the 
sun. Presently they swept past like 
a puff of smoke and disappeared down 
the wind. A few other shore-birds 
seen later were excessively wild, and 
conditions were most unfavorable for ob- 
servation. Sanderling land piping plover 
were identified. 
Further east a brown pelican was 
crouched on the crest of the beach fac- 
ing seaward. When I got quite close 
to it, it rose unsteadily on its feet and 
merely flapped and scrambled down 
across the narrow intervening stretch 
to float about in the wash of the surf. 
Close to its own tracks, in the sand 
nearby, was the unmistakable imprint 
of the feet of a bald eagle, a not too 
welcome companion. Returning some- 
what later on sand exposed by the fall- 
ing tide, the pelican allowed me to pass 
close by between it and the water with- 
out protest, being evidently too ex- 
hausted to care. 
The clouds piled up in the south- 
west, lead-colored, then blacker and 
blacker. A few dirty-brown gannets 
were flying east well off-shore, and a 
single white adult stood out in bold 
relief against the blackness for an in- 
stant as its course curved up from the 
water. Inland the tops of woods were 
visible promising shelter. The crest 
of the dunes dropped sharply above 
extensive thick-set growth containing 
cedar and live-oak, as though about to 
break over and engulf the trees, and 
here I reached a haven, crouched be- 
neath one of these as the squall broke 
over the dunes, so well sheltered that 
I lighted and smoked my pipe without 
inconvenience. Presently I notice a 
green lizard clinging on a twig, close 
to my hand, which escaped deftly when 
I undertook to grasp it. 
This sharp shower was of short dur- 
ation, though- thereafter intermittent 
light rain rode in on the wind. Fol- 
lowing the shore-line, I had come 
abreast once more with the shell strewn 
flats. I thought I caught the creaking- 
cry of some bird above the sound of 
the wind. Sure enough, there were two 
oyster-catchers wheeling to alight! 
They moved away from my approach 
over the sand of the flats with consid- 
erable speed, and little apparent ef- 
fort, keeping their distance, when I 
seemed to gain on them, by short 
flights. 
HI 
Certain shore-birds are dependent 
on the condition, wet or dry, of the 
coastwise marshes, varying irregu- 
larly over a considerable period of 
time. Heavy rains or exceptionally 
high tides cover these with one or more 
inches of water which gradually evap- 
orates or runs off until the surface 
may become dry and crusted, unsuit- 
