Monomoy

We traveled 250 miles to Monomoy to seek respite. Shore birds travel 20,000 miles from bay of fundy in nova scotia down to tierra del fuego and stopover on sites like Monomoy to fuel up and rest before they continue to their destinations.

Each day we supplemented our diet of chicken and waffles with banana bread, pounds of steamers, bowls of creamy chowder, and assorted fish. I got so fat I couldn’t see my toes. But we weren’t as ridiculous as some obese birds which may double in weight storing fat for the long haul.

Our ride up to Monomoy was punctuated by the kids’ mid-journey rest stops to quench their thirsts followed by the hour later ‘I really have to go badly’ bathroom breaks. The legs of migratory bird flights may last over 70 hours passing over oceans and mountains.

High tide and restricted dunes made passing the beach impossible from the north. Going down another set of stairs down to the ocean at the south. We walked on retaining walls of backyards of lavish ocean view mansions. K and I are either walking ahead of the kids or the kids are running in front of us complaining we’re being slow. Lots of shouting in the wind in vain to coordinate our family unit. The loons just glided in perfect harmonious V formation before us in the wind without a care in the world.

Further south, the beach expanded and wrapped around a salt marsh… a perfect nursery for juvenile fish and crabs. J and B were wondering why they were forced to hike with us again. K and I were wondering how to ditch our kids without incurring criminal and neglect charges. Here, where the marshes filter pollution and purify surrounding habitat we saw various birds foraging and nesting for their young.

We walked the trails traversing smooth cordgrass of the low marsh which can tolerate salt water to the high marsh cord grass, which colonizes land at high tide level all the way to the upland woody plants of the forests. I tell K of a poem I read by Edna St. Vincent Millay that captures this moment in cape cod: “The wind in the ash tree sounds like surf on the shore or truro. I will shut my eyes… They said leave your pebbles on the sand and your shells too and come along. We’ll find another beach like the beach at truro. Let me listen to the wind in the ash. It sounds like surf on the shore.” The birds were calling out audibly as the sounds from the waves subsided further inland making their own sing song poetry for all to hear