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July 20, 1998
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Forget ox breath, they should bait those greenhead traps with essence of me! The north plover warden on duty before me was swinging wildly at greenheads when I arrived. From a distance it looked like she was doing some strange dance with her beach umbrella. She said she was never happier to see relief coming than today. After about 5 minutes, I could understand why. I had come prepared with a brand new can of Off!, which I sprayed all over myself - bare parts and clothed parts. They still bit me. I stood and moved around. I sat and cowered. They still bit me. At one point, I was sitting in my beach chair slathered in bug repellent and looking at some least terns when a greenhead landed on my left calf. I leaned over in the chair to swat it violently. Never do this in an aluminum beach chair. The next thing I knew I was flat on my back on the sand with a twisted piece of broken aluminum under me. Apparently leaning to the side and swatting with all my might had torqued the chair way beyond its breaking point. It was no longer recognizable as a chair except for the webbing. The greenhead got me anyway. A trickle of blood ran down my leg and a welt began to grow. I walked into the water and stood for awhile, figuring at least they couldn't bite my feet. The water was so cold my feet started to go numb and the greenheads were swarming around my knees. I was afraid if I leaned over to swat them, I'd drop the radio into the sea and be in BIG trouble with law enforcement. I walked back up the beach and found a moderately big driftwood log, which I dragged down to the high tide line and dug a small pit in front of it for my feet. I sat on the log and buried my feet in the sand. This worked quite well as far as protecting my feet, and constant application of the Off! kept the flies buzzing around me but not lighting. Something started to tickle my left foot. I moved it around, turning over some of the sand. An amphipod had been busily digging a tunnel through the sand over my foot. Anything with that many legs tickles when it walks on you. I laughed. Between bouts of swatting greenheads and watching amphipods dig tunnels, I talked to about 10 visitors, most of whom were from out of town - I mean WAY out of town. One couple was from England. They wanted to know exactly what a piping plover was. Another woman was from Long Island (OK that's not as far as England, but it's as unlikely) and was shocked that part of the beach was closed. "I came here to get away from the piping plovers on Long Island!" she exclaimed. She wanted to walk along the water line anyway. I explained to her that the chicks who have recently hatched are feeding along the waterline and they are at their most vulnerable time. She was skeptical, but I convinced her to go away. Simply putting my finger on the radio button seems to help. Another woman was from South Africa. She was pleased at the beach closure and explained they would never do that in South Africa. (Do piping plovers nest in South Africa? I honestly don't know. Better check on that.). One guy was from someplace less exotic like Medford. He just wanted to bum some Off! from me and ask about the greenheads. By the time I got off duty, I was covered with welts from the greenheads and again hadn't seen a single piping plover. The gatehouse white board reports 13 chicks but hadn't been updated with today's count yet. |
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