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| Image credit: lukich / 123RF Stock Photo |
Nehalem Bay Spit, Oregon
Twenty years ago a snowy plover explored
the bay spit to nest -- I could have been there.
A June day when one palm-size trilling wader
scooted on stick-black legs on the scruff
of a minus tide poking for shore flies.
Perhaps I didn’t notice.
Were nester-plovers to show up now,
rules weigh down the bird books, heavy NO
horseback riding, kite flying, dogs,
bicycles, sand sails, beach volleyball,
kites above the tide line. Back ups
include poisoned eggs to kill
crows and ravens that gobble
plover eggs. Ropes
to keep birders out.
One commissioner complains
of limiting family fun.
Another fears phone calls.
We’d notice the yellow signage
to save the tiny plover.
The betting at the bar
is the plover will be a no show.
So the waves have washed
across the tides of time.
Tricia Knoll is a Portland, Oregon poet. Urban Wild, her poetry chapbook, is now available from Finishing Line Press.
