Shoreline Ruckus

Our summer shoreline is scenic, balmy, and sometimes noisy. It's gulls that add most of the sound effect. During mid-August the decibels ramp up when their youngsters are being weaned to feed themselves independently.

A Herring Gull and begging offspring

Halibut Point is not the origin place of this drama. The new generation was born and fledged on offshore nesting sites, islands off the coast. They have been fed prodigiously and have learned to fly. Now they're extending their worldly range to the continent‒to Halibut Point. They've flown here inexpertly, perhaps tentatively. The price of this freedom is to become self-supporting.

The loss of caretaking meals sets off a loud crisis as the juveniles follow their parents into the greater world. There are clamorous deals made along the way to bridge the necessities of survival.

The baleful eye of the parent

Parents begin to draw the line. They understand the ticking biological and seasonal clocks. Free lunches diminish. The youngsters beg vociferously.

Juvenile tern

About this time a young tern showed up on our shoreline, having managed to fly from its distant birthplace to Halibut Point.

It was at an intermediate stage of development like the young gulls, with decent flying skills but a bit short on fending for itself. Tired, hungry, and alone it came down to rest far from home.

Common Tern adult and juvenile

Out of the blue one of its parent arrived with a meal and some encouragement.

Plaintive pleading ensued like the desperate, doomsday cries of babies everywhere.

The adorable, inconsolable, single-minded offspring shrieked and hollered.

Its parent circled briefly with that ineffable grace chosen for the Massachusetts Audubon Society logo, and headed out to sea.