The Delaware coast was a treasure trove of birds! My very first morning on site, a white van pulled up with a Fish & Wildlife emblem on the door. The person walked over and asked if we minded moving from where we were shooting as they wanted to trap shorebirds in that location for their research. We moved instantly as their research was much more important than our images. Well, that started a relationship that continues to this day!

Being a Master Bander and a biology geek, I couldn’t help myself and asked questions. It was a great conversation, fostering a new relationship. They were attaching “Flags” as well as service bands on the birds, you can see one of the green flags on this inbound Ruddy Turnstone. At the end of that session shooting, they were very kind and brought over to the group a Least Sandpiper and Short-billed Dowitcher they had trapped and did an in-the-field class on bird ID and banding. It was great!!!

One of the biologists was from Argentina, and we hit it off instantly. The next day, I gave him a list of the birds I’d photographed (the Flag numbers) with his Flags. That’s when the reality struck, they were targeting species that just a few years back were a dime a dozen. They weren’t going after the endangered Red Knot, they were targeting species that not too long ago no one paid attention to there were so many of them. That reality is still upsetting to me. What have we done to our world? It’s important science, and I was so pleased that for a week, I could play an insignificant part by recording The Flag.

It’s a spectacle that goes back nearly to when the dinosaurs roamed the planet. That’s how long Horseshoe Crabs have been coming to the sands of the northeast coast to lay their eggs in spring. A single female can lay up to 100,000 eggs. With an estimated 200-300 million crabs hitting the shores a century ago, well, that’s simply a lot of eggs, which is what attracts the shorebirds. Fueling up for their flight north to produce the next generation, they pile into the beaches, bays, and marshes to feast. This sadly, is long gone as I’ve found the past decade searching to witness this time-old event. We got a taste of the spectacular but just a small glimpse of the past two weeks ago in Delaware, seeing 50-60,000 shorebirds chase the microscopic eggs in their frenzy to feast. Dunlin is one of the species taking advantage of this abundant food source. When I saw one as the sun rose perched on a crab, it seemed to be the perfect story. The age old quest to ride the crab.

Their name comes from their loud call, which sounds like clapping. Their booming voice belies the fact that they hide perfectly in their marsh world. A tad smaller than a chicken, you can find them in tidal marshes on both coasts, with the west coast species in dire straits. This individual was photographed on the Delaware coast, where the healthy marsh system supports a healthy population. I’ve been fortunate to spend time with all the species over the decades and can pass along one tip if you want to photograph this very secretive rail. First, be prepared to have them do goofy things, no way to describe them, but once you see them, you’ll know what I’m talking about. The other is, time your visit to the marsh when high tide is going out around sunrise. They like to travel the tidal creeks to define their territories, which is when they expose themselves. They are a great bird, them secretive, goofy Clappers!