Nature Connection: A Quiet Morning At The Beach

 The crowds have dissipated somewhat, and the beaches are more or less deserted now that the kids are all back at school. When I arrive shortly after sunrise the beach near my home is quiet except for the sound of the waves coming in and out across the sand. The wind is brisk, but the temperature is warm. The air smells of brine, and I fill myself with its delicious scent with each inhale.

 The young ospreys that grew up on the pole by the entrance to the beach are in the air and calling. The marsh by the side of the road is filled with feeding egrets, both snowy and great egrets. A lone black crowned night heron fishes amongst them, and in the distance a great blue heron stands still as a feathered statue, waiting patiently for a foolhardy fish or crab to wander by. 

 I see only one other person, a young woman meditating by the water’s edge. There are recent footprints in the soft, damp sand, but no other walkers do I see. A half dozen or so black-backed gulls sit in the sand, facing the wind, as I walk by. The tracks of gulls and crows crisscross, and signs of broken and half-devoured shellfish and spider crabs are strewn about all over.

 It is the time of year when the empty shells of horseshoe crabs litter the shore by the hundreds, alarming and scaring people who think they are dead crabs, not shed shells. As my friend and fellow naturalist educator Mary Beers would say, “They’re sheds, not deads!” Although horseshoe crabs aren’t technically crabs, they are invertebrate arthropods and must shed their shells on a regular basis until they are full grown. Very young horseshoe crabs may molt several times in their first summer, but as they grow the shedding becomes less frequent. It takes a number of years for horseshoe crabs to reach adulthood so there are always multiple shells to be found, especially when the tides and wind align to bring them onshore at once.

 On this morning there are hundreds of shed shells, all different sizes. A herring gull walks between some of them, testing to see if they are really empty by nudging them or pulling at them with its beak.

 A coyote was here ahead of me, and for a while I follow along with its tracks. I see coyote tracks every day I walk at this beach and not once have I seen the coyote. I find deer tracks a little farther down the beach. They swim across the channel from a nearby island and again, I see the tracks often but never the deer that make them. I keep hoping though, and hopefully someday the stars will align and I will catch a glimpse of at least one of them.

 All sorts of shells can be found along the wrack line here. It’s a south-side beach on Nantucket Sound, so bay scallops, blue mussels, oysters, both kinds of local whelks, jingle and boat shells are easy to find. Add soft-shelled clams and quahogs, along with occasional razor clams, and one can have an instant collection.

 The roses have mostly faded, though the few that remain in bloom are full of bees, sometimes two bees to a flower. The beach peas have been gobbled up, and the seaside goldenrod is thinking about blooming. It is always one of the last goldenrods to bloom and is my personal favorite.

 The Nantucket ferry passes through the channel, and a ring-billed gull watches from its perch on the jetty. A great egret takes flight, leaving its large but delicate tracks behind. A few jellyfish have washed up on the sand, and I find some blue crab shells as well.

 Boat lanyards tinkle in the distance and a small sailboat glides by, its sail bright white against the blue sky. Signs of civilization are all around me, but there is another set of coyote tracks to walk alongside and more pretty shells to pick up and examine. I pocket a smooth stone and a heart-shaped fragment of a quahog shell before heading back to my car.

 I have a busy day ahead, but walking along the water’s edge in damp sand I find my heartbeat settling into a happy rhythm with the waves. I take one last long look at the sea and breathe in one big gulp of salty air before turning on my car and heading back to town. I may not be ready for everything the news and the world throws at me daily, but I am ready for the day ahead.