It has always been my belief that types of experiences one can
clearly recall nearly 50 years later are very worthwhile having
as often as possible. For example an extremely momentous event,
going on my first conducted bird hike, occurred in the spring of
1952 (47 years ago) during my years as a student at UW-Oshkosh,.
My guess is that Dr. Hugh Talbot, the professor who was teaching
a nature study course in which I was enrolled, didn’t have the
sharp hearing needed to lead an early bird hike, so he enl
isted the help of a much younger Dr. Owens, professor of
physiology, also an expert birder, to take over.
The class met at around 5:30 am at a cemetery along the river
in Oshkosh. Several pages of handwritten, detailed notes that I
still have in my files today, taken during the exciting two-hour
outing, attest to the many good bird sightings we had that
morning. It was near the end of the class that the group was led
to an open field along the edge of the cemetery. Suddenly Dr.
Owens pointed ahead and excitedly called out, "Upland
plover! Watch as it lands on the fence post!"
That long-legged, long-tailed, slim-necked, small-headed,
brown bird alighted on the top of the post, held its wings aloft
for several seconds and then, ever so slowly and gently, as
though they were made of fragile glass, folded them to its sides.
It was then and there that I became "hooked" for life
on birdwatching. Little wonder that, 47 years later, the upland
plover remains high on my list of all-time favorite birds.
Since that 1952 introduction to this shorebird, that shuns
shores and rather prefers vast expanses of grasslands, its name
had been changed to upland sandpiper. Years ago it was called
the Bartramian sandpiper in honor of William Bartram, the Quaker
naturalist from Philadelphia. Its genus name of Bartramia
respects Mr. Bartram while its species name, longicauda,
refers to the relatively long tail of this amazing bird.
A point that disturbs me very deeply is the fact that the
"hot spot" of this bird’s distribution in the entire
state during the mid to late 1960’s was in northern Kewaunee and
southern Door Counties, while today they have virtually
disappeared from this very same region. It was one of our
country’s leading ornithologists, Chandler S. Robbins of the US
Fish & Wildlife Service, (brother to Wisconsin’s famous
author and "guru" of birding, Sam Robbins), who
developed the annual Breed
ing Bird Survey (BBS) that continues to this day and has so
accurately documented year-to-year changes in bird populations
throughout the US.
It is difficult to imagine tens of thousands of upland
sandpipers nesting in this area years ago. That’s what the
wildlife experts and historians tell us. One of the events that
brought about a drastic decrease in their numbers was the decline
and eventual extermination of passenger pigeons. A good market
for small birds still existed and something had to replace the
pigeons. Now it was the upland sandpipers that were shot by the
thousands and shipped by the barrel to the cities.
You can imagine how thrilled my partner, Mike Madden, and I
were while doing our BBS in southern Door Co. in mid-June of
1977, to count 46 of these noble and talkative birds. Of a total
of 50 counting stations, it was at our 30th stop,
which happened to be along Gardner Road in southern Door County,
that we counted 18 upland sandpipers. That set a record dating
back to my first BBC done in 1966.
Earlier in 1977 our friend, Tom Erdman, saw 32 in one flock
west of Kangaroo lake on April 20, another record. Two chicks
were seen with an adult on May 2 of that year, an unusually early
date. While leading early morning bird hikes throughout the late
1960’s and 1970’s it was quite common to see upwards of five or
six of these extraordinary birds at one instant. Gradually their
numbers declined throughout the 80’s and 90’s. Today we consider
ourselves lucky to see one per summer.
Trend maps of bird numbers in the US show that, since the
early 1960’s, declines of upland sandpipers are centered in
Minnesota and Wisconsin, and locally elsewhere in the
northeastern US and eastern Canada. Changing farming practices,
residential/urban development, and reforestation are thought to
be largely responsible for the declines.
I can clearly visualize the highly predictable sightings
throughout May and most of June of past years of these exciting
birds at one of our favorite birding sites along Summach Road
north of Baileys Harbor. What performers these trusting birds
were! Invariably one would perch on a nearby fence post and
repeatedly give its very rapid scolding "QUIP-ip-ip-ip"
call (said as fast as you can say the words). Each time it
called it flicked its tail, eyeing us very warily.
It is also during this time of the year that, traditionally,
the upland sandpipers’ delicate, ascending, tremulous "wolf
whistle" songs during the day are matched at night by the
pleasant, mellow, sustained, high-pitched "police
whistle" songs of the common toads.
If I knew what would help, I would do anything within my power
to prevent these gentle birds, who live in perfect harmony with
the earth, from going the route of the passenger pigeons.
Upland Sandpiper
This column appeared in the Door County Advocate on 05/14/1999.
© Copyright 1999 Roy Lukes. All rights reserved.
