Nantucket Independent, USA – 19 hours ago
AN LGJ?
by Kenneth Turner Blackshaw
Birders are continually flummoxed by “LBJ’s” – Little Brown Jobs. These include a lot of the sparrows and the ubiquitous Yellowrumped Warbler, whose winter plumage is so nondescrip
But this week’s bird doesn’t hide in the grass or bushes around our island. No, it inhabits our winter beaches. Finding one is a real prize during Nantucket’s cold seasons.
Most of our winter sandpipers are Sanderlings and this bird shares several interesting characteristics with them. Like the clockwork toy Sanderling that continually dares the waves on our surf beaches, this bird has a one-word name – Dunlin. Like the Sanderling, its name refers to its color – grayish brown. Dunlins were originally “dunlings” or little gray ones. Their Latin name, Calidris alpina, means the “alpine, grayspeckled sandpiper,” referring to the fact they nest in the tundra, far from any trees.
So on Nantucket’s winter beaches, we have “LGJ’s” – Little Gray Jobs – most of which are Sanderlings. The trick is finding the occasional brownish gray one hiding among them. When you do, you’ve found a treasure.
Both Sanderling and Dunlin bodies are about the same size. Yet your bird books tell you that Dunlins measure an inch longer than a Sanderling – eight or nine inches. That extra inch is that long and droopy Dunlin beak. At this time of year, Sanderlings are silvery gray, white underneath, with almost white heads. Dunlins are just a tad darker and have that dun-colored, grayish brown wash around the throat and head. In flight, both show a white stripe on the wing but the Dunlin’s is not so pronounced.
When you see a flock of winter sandpipers, look for ones that are darker; then look for that longer drooping beak; and finally look to see if the bird appears round-shouldered. In “The Sibley Guide to Birds,” David Sibley illustrates the two species sideby side to help you out.
At one time Dunlins were known as Red-backed Sandpipers. My goodness, this doesn’t sound like an LGJ at all. This dramatic name refers to the transformation these dun-colored birds undergo as spring approaches. From April to August, their backs turn rufous, their heads become whiter and there’s a huge, sharply defined black patch on their lower bellies as if someone took a paint roller and spread black paint on the bird. A Dunlin in this season is unmistakable.
Dunlins nest in the Arctic all around the globe. The ones visiting us now spend the summer in the Canadian and Alaskan north – even beyond Churchill, Manitoba on Hudson Bay where I visited last June. The birds nesting in western Alaska head down the Siberian coast to winter in Japan, Korea and China. The birds that winter in Europe nest in eastern Greenland.
Nantucket’s winter beaches could hardly be called lush, but Dunlins seldom see bushes in their landscape, let alone trees. With no brush or trees around, it’s not surprising that they construct a grass-lined nest on the ground. Dunlins are among the earliest nesters in the Arctic spring with eggs being found as early as May 29. They push the edge of the envelope considering snow can occur for another three weeks at that latitude.
Their four eggs take just over three weeks to hatch with both parents sharing incubation duties. After the precocious youngsters pop from the shell, Mr. Dunlin handles most of the parenting activities since the females desert the nest. Housewives must get desperate in the Arctic!
Dunlins are abundant in winter on the Carolina beaches. There, the flocks are described like clouds of smoke, and 100 years ago, they were shot in great numbers for the markets. Hard to imagine such a small bird being eaten by humans but things were different at that time. John James Audubon described them as restless, active birds. Then again, they were being shot at.
The Canadian Wildlife Service folks, who must be skilled at counting things, estimate the Dunlin population at 3,934,000 birds worldwide, with 1,325,000 in North America. Banding records show one of these LGJs to have survived over 12 years. This is quite amazing when you consider the rather sparse and dramatic conditions they live in.
On Nantucket, we expect them to be arriving at the end of September. At that time, many of them are still showing traces of the black paint job on their bellies. Dunlins are a rare sight in mid-winter but we manage to tally them on most of our Christmas Bird Counts with a high of 40 one year.
They become more common from mid-March until the end of April before all of them disappear to the north in May. At that time, the LGJs become quite striking red, black and white jobs. Keep an eye on the salt-water beaches for these droop-nosed sandpipers
as the island’s winter progresses into spring. I
Illustration by George C. West. If you enjoy “social” birding, join the Nantucket Bird Club at 8 a.m. Sundays in front of Nantucket High School for a two to three-hour birding trip. Call 228-1693 for more information. To hear about rare birds, or to leave a bird report, call the Massachusetts Audubon hot line at 781-259-8805. Ask Ken a question at: kenandcindy1@comcast.net.
