The Black-bellied Plover 
Taken near Santa Barbara Photo by the Author 
A DISTANT PASSAGE 
the wave and settle again, after the fashion of Turnstones, quite deter¬ 
mined to hold their own. 
In taking flight, at leisure, the plover is quite sure to stand a moment 
with uplifted wings—to shake out the sails—before casting off. This 
reveals the black axillary feathers, which are a distinguishing mark of 
the species at all seasons. If possible, a little run precedes the flight, 
preferably down the beach slope. Again on alighting, the sails are held 
aloft for a moment if the footing is narrow; but if there is room for a run, 
the bird checks its momentum with the feet instead. 
Purposeful pursuit makes the birds suspicious, and I have spent a 
half day with the camera without getting nearer than thirty yards of them; 
while my boys, engaged meanwhile in excavating a sand fort, declared the 
birds came within ten feet of them. I got even with this bunch of birds, 
though. Noting a considerable flock resting at a distance along the lower 
sands, I stripped off and went into the ocean, paralleling the shore until 
opposite the plovers, and then letting the waves wash me in like a stranded 
seal pup, until I lay within twenty feet of the nearest birds. I was near 
enough to catch the gentle curiosity and apprehension in their eyes. 
Some actually drew nearer to this plaything of the billows; but most of 
them held back haughtily, as though divining a disguise. There were 
other species of Shore-birds in the flock, and it was the Snowy Plover who, 
as host and rightful guardian of the beach, felt the most responsibility, 
and pressed close to riddle my Neptunian sham. Never a merman so 
blushed before a court of kelp maidens—blushed and gloated. 
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