NJWILDBEAUTY readers know that three Intrepids — Carolyn Yoder, Jeanette Hooban and I–, luxuriated in the haven of Cape May a week or two ago, sheltered in a restored Victorian home, a half-block from the sea. From its rocking-chair-rich porch, we could see dunes, bayberry, maybe even the seaside goldenrod, and the miraculous blue-grey eternality of the sea. At sun-up and sun-down, roseate skies over dunes and waves revealed winged waves of rare and graceful skimmers.
Two men who may well have flown in from Australia for the Cape May Birding Weekend, rushed to me after a third harsh and heedless one insisted upon flushing that priceless flock.
“She walked right toward them! She just walked right INTO them!,” one exclaimed, quivering with shock or fury or both. In a quieter manner, the other man shook his head, almost mourning, “And to think we traveled 5000 miles to see them.” “We don’t have them at home,” added the other.
What they did not know is that I’d accosted the first skimmer-disturber. Another woman — slender and fit, who zoomed right INTO that sacred group.
“Don’t do this!,” I whisper-admonished. “These birds have been feeding all day to get ready to sleep here for the night. When you flush them, they use up calories! Now they’ll have to go out and feed anew, and the sun is going down. Feeding uses calories!”
She kept right on zooming, holding her camera/phone practically in the faces of the flock’s sentinels.
“Please?!,” I urged. She flounced up, waved her phone in MY face, giving me a grin that would require an obscenity to describe.
I apologized to the far-flung traveling birders. “I am so sorry Americans are so cruel.”
Exasperated, I shouted a sarcasm after the relentless disturber:
“YOU are more important than birds!”