Flying machine

Most birds travel a lot. Sure, there are some that nest and winter in the same general area, but most birds travel a lot. In their daily commute, some birds, such as hawks and falcons, cover large areas searching for prey. Others, such as flycatchers, make lots of little trips, perhaps only 50 or 100 feet round trip. But by the end of the day the flight time adds up.

I like to travel, for pleasure anyway. I wouldn’t like traveling for a living, though. Sure, I commute, but only about 12 miles to work, and dropping off the kids is right along the way. That’s not bad. I’ve lived where it was four times that distance — about 100 miles — to complete my daily circuit. You get used to it. But how about 16,000 miles to complete your circuit? That would be quite a commute.

Baird’s sandpiper, a 71/2 inch, 1.3-ounce shorebird, travels 8,000 miles each way on its yearly migration circuit. Much of that distance, through Mexico, Central America and to the southern part of South America, is covered nonstop. There are not many airlines that do that.

For these feathered flying machines, the year begins on the pampas of Patagonia, in eastern Argentina. That’s where they spend our winter, their second summer, having arrived in late fall. The trip north is fast, flying along the Andes at up to 13,000 feet, until they hit the central valleys of Mexico, where they slow some to rest and feed along the way.

Then in a series of shorter jumps and stops, they move through the Great Plains in a fairly narrow line straight north. They begin this leg crossing Texas, then on through Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, South Dakota, North Dakota, Manitoba, ending their journey above the Arctic Circle.

Most Baird’s spend a short summer in the tundra of the large islands that make up the Canadian province of Nunavut, east of the Northwest Territories and bordering the Arctic Ocean. Some, however, spread east to Greenland, or west to northern Yukon Territory and Alaska, or even extreme northeastern Siberia.

There they stay just long enough to hatch a single brood, usually a clutch of four eggs. In as little as five weeks they are off again, heading back to Argentina. It seems like a long way to go for such a short stay. But I guess that it is just the right amount of time, because they keep to that schedule pretty religiously, year after year. And as a species, they seem to be doing OK.

The trip back south goes in waves. As with all sandpipers, those individuals who were unsuccessful at breeding head back right away. They leave in late June. Then, one of the parent birds will leave. With Baird’s it is the female that leaves first, often within a week of the eggs hatching, but the male is not far behind. The new generation is left to mature and prepare on their own. Wow, my teenagers would sure like a system like that. Finally, the juvenile Baird’s head out, and these are the birds that we usually see as the fall migration.

For the most part, Baird’s sandpipers follow the same route back through the Great Plains that they used in the spring. In the fall, however, there tends to be more birds wandering off the beaten track. So, while the vast bulk of migrating Baird’s sandpipers follow the central route, a fair number of young birds wander toward both coasts and head south from there. That’s when we see Baird’s in Kootenai County. The first usually show in the last third of August and will continue to pass through into September. This year, however, the first Baird’s of the season was seen in Kootenai County on Aug. 10.

As I mentioned, our Baird’s are juveniles, young of the year, which are the ones most likely to go a bit astray of the main route. That’s just like our human teens. We know these Baird’s are young birds for two reasons. First is the lateness of the summer when they arrive — late August and into September. For adult Baird’s, fall is actually in July and early August. That has always been confusing to me — watching for fall migration in the middle of the summer.

Also, juvenile sandpipers have a different plumage than adults, allowing age differentiation. Migrating adults have feathers that are faded and tattered and that won’t be molted until after arriving in Argentina. Young birds have a fresh, bright, more showy plumage. Once again, just like our teenagers.

I had never thought much about where shorebirds go for the summer, or actually, where they are coming from in the fall, since that’s when most shorebird watching is done in North Idaho. Or where they go for their second summer after they pass here in the fall. But 8,000 miles is a lot of territory to cover. Think about that the next time you see a sandpiper dashing about, grabbing up bugs. Its trip has just begun, and these bugs are just a small bit of the fuel that will be required to complete the journey.

And imagine all the perils along the way: the falcons, the storms, the polluted ponds, the hunters — at least in the past in this country. Until about 85 years ago, sandpipers were heavily gunned for market hunting and sport in the United States. It’s really a wonder that any of them make it. That’s especially true of the juvenile birds for which this is an unguided trip to places previously unseen.

Such migration is all so amazing. But who are these amazing little birds? Well, as you’ve already guessed, Baird’s sandpiper is a shorebird, at least that’s what we call them in North America. In Europe a shorebird is called a “wader.” For us birders, they are our biggest challenge, whatever you call them.

Shorebirds, as you’d surmise from the name, are found out in the open, but usually out on some mudflat, and quite inaccessible. “Mudbirds” wouldn’t sound as nice, but it would be a whole lot more accurate. And they startle easily. This is due, no doubt, to the fact that they are hunted relentlessly by every merlin and peregrine falcon between the Arctic Ocean and the southern tip of South America.

Shorebirds never stop moving. They have body parts, from legs, to heads, to beaks, to wings, going in a multitude of directions at all times. And if they are not flying, they are running, at least the smallest ones. Of course the large shorebirds, the ones that are relatively easy to identify, tend to wade more serenely. It is truly the smaller ones that are the challenge, for most of them look very much alike.

Shorebirds as a group — as a very large group — include families in North America such as the plovers, the oystercatchers, avocets and stilts, and the sandpipers. Sandpipers themselves are a diverse family of 43 species, including both large and small birds. The largest are the curlews and godwits. The strangest are the phalaropes. In between are the snipes and woodcocks, the turnstones and dowitchers, and 26 species of “true” sandpipers.

These sandpipers are further divided into two groups. The tringine sandpipers most commonly found in Kootenai County are the greater and lesser yellowlegs, the solitary sandpiper, and the spotted sandpiper, which actually breeds here.

Then, finally, we come to the slot where Baird’s sandpiper fits. This group, the calidris sandpipers, has the largest number of species, and the smallest size, of all the shorebirds. These are the sandpipers often referred to as “peeps.” No, they are not pink and yellow marshmallow chicks seen at Easter.

These peeps are the birds one would usually think of as running along a beach, as a synchronized flock, playing tag with the surf line. They are the shorebirds that will carpet a coastal mudflat by the tens of thousands. And they are the shorebirds that even the experts refer to with adjectives such as confusing, daunting, and frustrating. Universally they have a plumage patterned in subtle tones of brown and gray. They are considered by many to be the greatest of all challenges in birding.

All of these peeps are in the genus Calidris, which gives an indication of just how similar they tend to be. Baird’s sandpiper is Calidris bairdii, named for the 19th-century ornithologist Spencer Fullerton Baird.

There are not many birds named for people anymore. Even Audubon lost his Audubon’s warbler a few years back. But Baird has two birds, the other being a sparrow. With sparrows being an identification challenge to rival sandpipers, I’m not sure how much of an honor was bestowed. Maybe those early ornithologists were making a statement.

During the fall in Kootenai County we can usually expect to see seven species of peeps, some more easily than others. Although sandpipers are never common in Kootenai County, the easiest to locate are the western sandpiper, the least sandpiper, the pectoral sandpiper, and Baird’s sandpiper. More rare are the sanderling, the dunlin, and the semipalmated sandpiper.

Of the group, Baird’s sandpiper is one of the easiest to pick out of a crowd. Only the pectoral is larger, and it has a unique beak and very yellow legs, although leg color can be a deceiving trait. The most similar to Baird’s in markings and shading is the least, which is also the tiniest. The least has yellow legs too, but beware.

So, if you have a chance to check the muddy edges of Lake Coeur d’Alene or Hayden Lake, or the mudflats near Cataldo or Harrison, don’t hesitate. Birding, like anything else in life, has its challenges. Or don’t even try to identify — just marvel at where these birds have been, and the trip they still have ahead.

But tread gently. For you this is an exciting encounter. For the sandpiper, this is one more in an endless chain of pit stops for needed rest and nourishment. It has enough perils ahead. It doesn’t need even one more startled moment of panic. Let this be an encounter of wonder for you, and peace for the traveler, for this traveler has many miles yet to go in this circuit, and, hopefully, many more circuits after that.