The Heart of the Deal

(caroming from Donald Trump's The Art of the Deal)

The outgoing tide reveals a nice opportunity on the Atlantic Seaboard.
 

A man seizes the moment behind the plume (look closely.)

He advances decisively without losing his shirt or his hat.

He surmounts the subordinated sea and stands, casting for big fish.
 

An occasional distraction whips up on the other side of the aisle but he locks to his base.

He disdains fake news and summons alternative facts.
 

He presides over a reality show in the center of make-believe.
 

An impertinent drama swirls around his feet.
 

He narrows his eyes and blames the swamp.
 

Then climate change breaks over paradise.
 

Tidal rhythms dampen the negotiations.
 

An ancient calculus re-asserts the Heart of the Deal.
 

A play of pride and peril clears the resilient stage.

Tide Pool Tapestries

Ruddy Turnstone

Shorebirds drew me down to the edge of the sea when the tidbits they hunted were revealed in the receding tide. Whether I found birds or not their realm itself began to captivate my expectation of photographic novelties.

I have generally favored high tides because they smooth over the messy, slippery zone and bring the ocean to fullness. The outgoing tide seemed a concession, a retreat. Then I began to notice in detail its endless inventions through the rocks. Tumbling or tranquil, it masters the ceremonies of water.

The subsiding tide pools into stillness leaving miniature lakes to reflect the sky and the  terrain.

It strands mussels and barnacles which encapsulate enough water to stay hydrated until the next inundation. Their contrasting shapes and colors and gloss present treasure-hunting possibilities in my low-tide rambles.

Versatile plants adapt to the rhythms of the tidal zone, to the crush of waves and to alternating immersions in water. Their configurations look as varied as creatures out of the Lucasfilm studio in as many shades of green.

When the water recedes seaweed must withstand rapidly changing moisture and temperature and salinity. It dries out in calligraphic lines.

Occasionally circumstances favor shallow microcosms where life carries on in patterns we're tempted to call design, except that they precede art.

Least Sandpiper

John Steinbeck wrote in The Log from the Sea of Cortez, "It is advisable to look from the tide pool to the stars and then back to the tide pool."

The ocean begins to return among the ridges, valleys and plateaus of the shoreline. It is a time to enjoy the coordinated subtleties of brown and blue. The water ripples and froths in response to lunar gravity from a quarter of a million miles away. The rocks have the look of an impatient herd waiting to be submerged again.

Plump, On Stilts

Semipalmated Plover

It takes a unique physique to make a living on the intertidal zone of Halibut Point. You have to wade in where possible, and dash out where necessary.

Ruddy Turnstone

The larger rhythms of the shoreline present foraging opportunities with the outgoing tide. Every moment on the ocean's rim balances opportunity with vigilance.


Sanderlings

During spring and fall migrating visitors from the sandpiper family stop at, or fly over Halibut Point. 


Least Sandpiper

Least Sandpipers have been on the prowl in tide pools for several weeks. Who can say whether this fellow has stayed in residence, or is part of a succession?

 
Stilt legs and a long beak suit him perfectly to harvesting the niche.


Semipalmated Sandpiper (L) and Least Sandpiper (R)

Individuals of similar species keeping close company provide an identification laboratory for outdoorsmen building their field skills.


Semipalmated Sandpiper and juvenile Spotted Sandpiper

No one would confuse these two birds. But this juvenile Spotted Sandpiper doesn't have spots yet, making it look a lot like a Solitary Sandpiper.


Spotted Sandpiper

Spotted Sandpipers are the only members of the clan to nest in this area, and the only one to come to the fresh-water quarries on Halibut Point. Most shorebirds pass through in the spring en route to Arctic breeding grounds. Adults start arriving here by mid July, through September, on their way to South America.


Ruddy Turnstone

One elegant sandpiper relative has been in residence on the shoreline since early August. This pair of Ruddy Turnstones joined the Semipalmated and Spotted Sandpipers at a promising hunting ground.
 

Ruddy Turnstone, breeding plumage

The turnstones--named for their hunting method on a pebble beach--found shrimp-like prey in the seaweed.
 

Ruddy Turnstone, juvenile plumage

This juvenile turnstone was happy to pick through a crab carcass demolished by a gull. The adults had already headed south. Young ones find their way to the wintering grounds unaccompanied by the adults. Some species migrate seasonally from the Arctic all the way to Tierra del Fuego, a distance of 10,000 or more miles. Plumping up in advance stores energy for the flight.

 

Purple Sandpipers

Purple sandpipers will come down to Halibut Point from their high-Arctic tundra breeding grounds to take up the northernmost winter residence of any shorebird. Their plump bodies will get thermal as well as other tests from the elements.


Purple Sandpipers



Swallows on the Move

One day last week hundreds of tree swallows were zipping around the Halibut Point moorlands on the hunt for midair insect meals invisible to my eyes. The more I appreciated their flashing, darting maneuvers the more I coveted a photograph, but couldn't focus on the speeding specks.

Tree swallows flocking

When they boiled up into a cluster over the grout pile I managed a collective picture by focusing the camera on the rocks below. But I wanted a singular stop-action prize in flight.

You'll be amused imagining me on the shoreline spinning the camera through figure-eights trying to follow individual birds in the viewfinder. Busy hands, busy humor, like building a dribble castle in the surf.
 

Tree swallow flying

I did manage to bring home one beguiling portrait of a free-flying swallow in reward for my strenuous morning.

 

Some of the birds spun out over the ocean in search of food morsels, tiny opportunists plying vast forces and distances at the outset of migration.
 

 I determined to come back for the next day's developments.

 

The imperatives of migration concentrated the tree swallows at Halibut Point to fatten up for their long flight south. They came specifically to feed on coastal bayberries.
 

The swallows maneuvered to hover above the shrubbery in headwinds gusting to 25mph.

 

Almost oblivious to people they picked berries on the wing, or perched briefly in the canopy. 

Ripe bayberries seemed to be reserved for the swallows at the moment of their high-calorie need.

By the following day the congregation had moved on to the immensity of its journey.

Each of the birds perfected a version of its life script through miles and generations.