Twee and Pip

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Twee and Pip are best friends. Twee is a Least sandpiper. Pip is a Western sandpiper. They buddy around together every summer. Twee is slightly smaller than Pip, but just as strong. And Pip is way strong. He and his family are migrating birds who travel long distances.

Twee’s family live at the marsh year-round. During the summer, though, the marsh is crowded when other kinds of migrants come to visit.

Hundreds of other sandpipers just like Twee and Pip gather on the shore to feast. Twee and Pip poke, poke, poke with Pipe-like bills into the wet sand to find and eat tiny delicious mollusks by the score. They skitter along near the water’s edge grazing and searching.

Pip liked to capture a small beach worm, hold it up, say, “Lookey, lookey, lookey.” And toss back his head to let the worm slide down his throat. It made Twee laugh. By the way, you haven’t lived until you hear a bird laugh.

Many shorebirds like to spend their summers at Arcata Marsh, a resting place between their breeding range and wintering range. The marsh is a fine place to fatten up.

The party begins the moment the migrants arrive! Commons, Westerns, Black-necked Stilts, Short-billed Dowitchers and more. It is fun to see how each bird looks so different.

Crowns, plumage, size, even their legs are different. One family has a large white spot between their bills and eyes. Another has stripes along their wings, and another has shining green backs.

Each bird brings exciting stories of the world beyond the marsh. It is like a new blockbuster coming to town, but of course, birds don’t go to the movies.

Birds would gather around Pip and urge him to tell stories because he is so entertaining. “We go to Alaska in the spring to breed,” Pip begins. “We’re on the beach, see, and this big King Salmon sneaks up and splashes us. That makes us twee-twee-twee so loud it scares a fisherman and he drops his pole right in the water.”

The birds agree, fish and fishermen can be an endless source of merriment. The natives show the migrants around the marsh and boast about the abundant insect population.

There are many farms nearby and it is a sandpiper’s job to help the farmers control the insects. Summer meals are especially filling.

Sometimes when the birds are looking for insects they fly in large formations. Large wisps of peeps launch into the air, flinging themselves into acrobatic flights of fancy.

Often humans stand on the shore taking pictures of the birds’ remarkable flying coordination.

Twee and Pip fly together in the formation. Twee communicates particular moves to Pip so that he can learn the ways of the Westerns. With stiff wingbeats, alternating with short glides on down-turned wings, the birds skim over the water. Exhilarating!

At the end of the summer, the migrating birds got ready to continue on their journey to the Baja wintering range. They thank their hosts for their hospitality and say goodbye to their Arcata friends. Pip says to Twee, “Hasta luego, amigo.”

Sunny’s Family

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When Sunny isn’t playing games on squirrels and other creatures, he is busy foraging for enough food to share with WhiteWing. Back and forth from bush to grassy flat and back home again.

Each time, carrying a juicy morsel for WhiteWing. He couldn’t help but sing now and then, he is so happy. Breee, breee, breee.

On the twelfth day, their waiting was over. Cra-ack. Craa-ack. Cra-acck. Crrr-ack. Peck by peck, the hatchings pecked out of their shells. They are tiny, wet, wobbly, bony, and hungry. “Peep peep peep peep. Food food food!”

WhiteWing nuzzles them and folds them under her wings while Sunny flies off to get breakfast for his family. Don’t even think McNuggets. Mockingbirds prefer bugs and seeds.

Sunny and WhiteWing take turns hunting for food and feeding the nestlings. Luckily the summer is a rainy one, so food is plentiful. Best of all, the stone bird bath has a little pool of water, perfect for bathing, also perfect for softening up a beakful of food for the youngins’.

The parents carry the food in their beaks, stop by the bath pool for a little dip, then bring the moistened take-out back to the nest for the peep-peep-peepers.

After a week anyone could see that the nestlings are well fed. They are putting on weight rapidly. They still look like their necks are too scrawny to hold up their big heads, but their downey new feathers give them a cuddly, oh-so-cute look.

Babies of any species are adorable. But Sunny and WhiteWing are convinced that Jumper, Big Boy, Rosey, and Moonglow are the cutest ever.

Sunny is so proud he steps up his singing in tempo and volume as the nestlings grow. Almost a month after Sunny and WhiteWing met, the fledglings are ready to leave the nest.

Flying is such a gift and they are naturals. On the ground, the young birds practice wing flashing. They raise their wings when they meet a new and strange object.

They approach the object slowly and haltingly. They raise the wings upwards, sometimes alternately and peer at the object in an archangel fashion.

They are careful to keep a look out for cats. Cats are sneaky. They can come out of nowhere and pounce before you can say, “Eeek!” Beware of cats.

Soon the youngsters learn all their lessons and they are ready to leave home. One by one they launch into the air to start their new lives.

Their parents have done their jobs and must get busy again. During the breeding period, Sunny and WhiteWing will create five broods. Their territory is plentiful with a small hackberry, an elm, and a stand of hawthorne bushes. The grass is short and sparse, so Sunny finds it easy to snag insects.

At the end of each day, Sunny and WhiteWing snuggle, wing to wing, and sing. Thrill, thrill thrill. They will remain mates until next season when the cycle begins again.

Sunny’s in Love

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Sunny and WhiteWing were busy building their nest. They picked a location in Sunny’s territory and WhiteWing told Sunny exactly how she wanted it built. It would be a grand nest with room for at least four eggs.

Over the next few days, Sunny worked frantically while WhiteWing supervised. He built a platform of twigs, then laid an assortment of grasses, leaves, moss, and hair. They made a smashing dance to compact this layer for a soft floor.

Very carefully, Sunny formed a cup in the middle and lined it with the finest, softest things he could find. Mostly he found young rootlets. Sometimes, though, he found nice pieces of wool or string that he would present to WhiteWing as gifts.

Before long, WhiteWing honored him by laying four mockingbird eggs–pale blue, with cinnamon blotches. Life is good for Sunny and WhiteWing.

WhiteWing loved to watch Sunny take off from the highest tip and float aloft, with his wings spread wide. He would leap up and float down, gushing his hunting squawks all the way. He would pounce on a grasshopper suspended amongst the wildflowers.

She liked it when he brought other bugs, like beetles, ants, moths, and spiders. And she was especially pleased when he brought home wild blackberries, fig bits, and loquat fruit.

The happy couple awoke one morning to find intruders in their yard. A gang of young mockers were helping themselves to the bounty. They were stealing from Sunny and WhiteWing.

Flinging himself into the air, Sunny went to defend his territory. While the intruders were busy stuffing their beaks, he attacked from the left. He attacked from the right, above, around, again.

He was so fierce and swift. Shriek, shriek, shriek. Feather storm. In minutes the strays were overcome and fled. WhiteWing beamed with pride as Sunny did a victory lap, gliding along his boundaries. He conveys the story about the enemies and the danger so that Racer can be on the lookout. Squawk, squawk, squawk.

Both birds were busy the next few days. Sunny loved to chase the squirrels. Threeep. Threep, Threeep. He had to chuckle at the silly squirrels.

Sometimes, just for fun, Sunny would stage attacks on the mailman. In the nearby crepe myrtle Sunny would wait for the uniformed mail carrier to come walking up the sidewalk.

Just as the mailman reached into his bag for a handful of mail, Sunny would swoop down close to the man’s ear and shout, “Cack, cack, cack.” The man would let out a surprised squeal, stumble a little, and look around to see if the attack would continue. Sunny never tired of this game.

Meanwhile, WhiteWing stayed home to incubate the clutch. Her job was to keep her family warm and safe. All four eggs fit nicely under her ample breast.

She didn’t mind sitting there so much because she had time to dream about all the things she would do with her new brood. She would feed them all the good things that hatchlings like to eat.

And when they were ready, she would teach her babies to do all the wonderful things that mockingbirds do. WhiteWing would be plenty busy when the eggs hatched. She would save up her energy until then.

Sunny’s Night Song

He perched on a branch so high up in the oak he could survey his whole territory. All else was quiet in the yard on this early summer night. Only the night creatures were awake. The mating season was new and Sunny sang his most joyful songs into the night air.

His songs told the story of his search for a nesting mate. One verse proclaimed his promise to stay with her throughout the season. In another verse he chirped of his excellent nest building skills.

He sang verses of all his heart. He imitated other neighborhood birds like the cardinals and the finches — even the morning doves. Every warble, trill, and chickadee-dee-dee. Strung together, he made a symphony of mixed up calls and he did it so loudly and so long, he thought his chest would pop.

“Hey, Sunny. Keep it down.” Sunny’s brother, Racer, pleaded as he joined Sunny on the branch. “Birds are tryin’ to sleep.”

“I know. I can’t help myself. I want all the females to hear me and want to join me. I know my songs will bring my mate to me.” This bird language produced a soulful string of breee-breee-breee and preep-preep-preeps.

Racer wanted to cover his ears, but of course, birds don’t do that. So he flew back to his own nest where his mate had tucked her head beneath her wing.

And so time passed. Night after night, Sunny sang for a mate. Racer and his mate in a nearby tree complained, “For goodness sake, that knucklehead makes such a racket. How in BillyBlueBlazes are we ever going to get any sleep?”

Even Sunny wondered how much longer he could sing. Eating and sleeping weren’t as important as his songs. He had to show what a good match he’d make. He sang of the beauty of his territory–flowering plants, berry bushes, fruit trees and a water bath. His melodies would surely attract a mate.

One night, with the fragrant scent of jasmine in the air, Sunny’s song was extra sweet. He crooned the ancient melodies of love and life, of family and home.

“Finally,” WhiteWing smiled her bird smile. “He’s singing the song I’ve been waiting for. I’ve been interested in Sunny for some time, but tonight, he’s touched my heart.” She sashayed to his tree and watched him display his tawny gray and white tipped wings in the moonlight.

“Hello! Hello! She’s here! Sunny likes WhiteWing! Do you, do you? Like me, like me? Too-too-toooo!”

WhiteWing wanted to be courted the proper mockingbird way, so she flitted to another tree. Mating is a serious decision because the two would be together many, many seasons. Sunny pursued her and made soft, hewing calls. The two sat close together and exchanged contented chants. The more they sang together, the more sure she became that she would choose Sunny for her mate.

“Together! Together! Happy! Happy! Happy!”

Together, Sunny and WhiteWing quickly became mates and danced the happy dance of family making. They filled their days with dancing and singing; of course, Sunny always sang louder than WhiteWing. Now when Racer saw the two new mates he told his own mate, “Well, whaddaya know? Sunny found someone. They’re cuddling and cooing softly together. Maybe we’ll finally get some shut-eye.”