Their day starts early. From their roosts in the edge of the dunes, the sandpipers stroll down the beach to the froth of the surf. There, they wait till the tide sweeps the water back to the sea. Then, they scurry towards the receding waves, stopping here and there to peck at bits of organic debris or perhaps snatch up a juicy sand flea. Then the tide changes its mind, and the waves push the suds of the water back to the beach. The sandpipers then speak among themselves, “Run away! Run away!”
Back to the shore they scurry, staying inches from the bubbling saltwater. They know if the water splashes them, they’ll have to pause from their routine, preen themselves dry and waste precious time darting back and forth and dodging the waves. From early in the morning until the sun sinks in the west, this is what sandpipers do. Run back and forth on spindly legs, in and out of the surf, hoping for a piece or two of whatever the server of the ocean’s restaurant has to offer. If a sandpiper wore a Fitbit, the numbers would be impressive. Rarely do you see an obese sandpiper.
Sandpipers have lots of members in their family trees. Some are tiny, some are larger, most have long beaks, but as a group, they make their living plowing back and forth through the surf in search small invertebrates burrowed in or washed up upon the sand.
Sandpipers are not very good housekeepers. They lay their three or four eggs in open scoops on the ground and hope that no predator is paying attention. The parents take turns sitting on and warming the eggs which hatch in about three weeks. Within a few hours, the chicks pick up the drill of darting in and out of the surf and for the baby sandpipers, another day has begun.