Just one little peep

A week ago Tuesday, in another in a string of beautiful summer evenings we were enjoying, my family and I were the last people at Mudge Pond.  Right before we left, we discovered an unexpected little visitor foraging at the pond’s edge: this least sandpiper.

This species is the smallest sandpiper in the world. Speakers of everyday English might wonder why it is not called “littlest†sandpiper. Who knows? Perhaps because it’s harder to say than “least,†or to avoid confusion with the “little sandpiper†(though in Europe where that species is found, it is called “little stint,†and it’s a hair larger than the least sandpiper).

Back on this side of the pond, in the land of the red, white and blue, we often call the least sandpiper and its closest relatives by their nickname, “peeps.†(Not the capital P kind that you can eat, mind you!) Birders enjoy the challenge of identifying these diminutive shorebirds, which can look very similar. All are mainly mottled brown, with various streaking on their breast.

So how do we identify this as a least sandpiper? In addition to its tiny size (not evident from the photograph without any objects for comparison), the two best clues are the bird’s fairly short, very finely tipped bill, and its light-colored legs. It also helps to know that the least sandpiper is more prone than its congeners to visit inland sites.

The two most similar North American peeps, the semipalmated sandpiper and the Western sandpiper, have longer and more blunt-tipped bills, and black legs. They are almost exclusively found along our coasts, rarely inland.

If you’re looking for a harbinger of cooler days to come, you’ve got your bird. This least sandpiper was making a “pit stop†from its breeding grounds far to the north on its way southward to its wintering territory. Like many shorebirds, this species is an amazing migrant; it is possible that this individual will launch overwater from somewhere along the Connecticut coast and fly nonstop all the way to South America. (Another migratory species of shorebird holds the record for the highest altitude flight ever recorded in a bird.)

Shorebirds are also remarkable because of the precision timing of their annual cycle. They must arrive on their tundra breeding grounds just prior to the “bloom†of insects with which they feed their young, then raise the young in a few short weeks and depart before the cold sets in and food runs short. The adults leave by mid-July (hence this bird is probably an adult), followed a few weeks later by the young, which somehow — incredibly — can find their way south on their own.

Partly because of this miracle of synchronicity, sandpipers are vulnerable to environmental hazards, such as oil spills, that can disrupt food sources, and are also threatened by global climate change as it alters seasonal cycles. In any case, here’s wishing our hearty little traveler a bon voyage!

Coming up on Aug. 9 and 10 is this year’s 41st annual Sharon Audubon Festival. I will be offering workshops on both mornings: on Saturday, “Learning Bird Song†and on Sunday, “Birding Basics.†Come join the fun!  I hope to see you there.

Fred Baumgarten is a naturalist and writer. He can be reached at fredb58@sbcglobal.net. His blog is at thatbirdblog.blogspot.com.