Silent Shore

Excursion to Wallops Island

Surf at Wallops Island

When I think of the shore, my mind instinctively envisions a solitary beach with no one else but me for miles.  I’ve been to my share of resort beaches with hotels soaring into the sky mere feet from the water, but this is the place of tourists and commercial business.  The smooth, white sand has been picked clean of anything resembling nature and the only things to be scavenged are the abandoned water bottles and candy wrappers left by beachgoers.  Instead, let me wander for hours with no man-made structures in site, the only laughter to be heard coming from the seagulls fighting the wind above me.  As we emerged from the half hidden trail onto Wallops beach, we were given a choice of directions to walk.  We could go south towards the artificial sea wall and towering navy buildings, or north along the lazy lines of shells towards the protected nesting area of Piping Plovers. I’ve often considered the absence of Man to be essential to the conservation of nature, and within that ideal lies a privilege for the few willing to seek it.  Wanting to rid myself of the oppression inherent in development and society, I chose north.  As Megan and I walked we skirted the tide line, occasionally stopping to examine some exotic shell or the spongy tangle of green algae washed upon the shore.  We talked shortly at intervals, mostly about something we had seen or wish we would see, but mostly we wandered in silence, letting the lapping waves be our soundtrack to this beautiful place.

                Before we ventured out, our guide had told us of a nesting area for the plovers which had been cordoned off by signs.  We were not to disturb this area, and upon seeing these signs were to turn around and head back.  Just as the shoreline turned out into a sandy point, beyond which I greatly wished to explore, we came upon the signs.  The area was back away from the water, and Megan had suggested we could walk along the surf without disturbing the site.  As we stood there our guide caught up to us, and we had asked him if it was alright to proceed.   He told us that technically we shouldn’t, but if we wanted to he would not stop us.  After a moments consideration, and against my desire to push on, we turned back.

                While I have never seen a piping plover, or simply did not distinguish it from others, I felt a force act upon me in that moment.  I could have very well skirted the nesting area without doing any real damage but something inside me made me hesitate. In Tom Horton’s "Spirits of Places," in Bay Country, he says, ‘Sometimes I think the spirits of place seize on certain sympathetic people among us to fight the battles against change the land by itself cannot manage.’   I briefly envisioned a small nest of hatchlings surrounded by sand completely untouched by human hands, and the struggle of a mother to raise her young in that place.  That vision filled me with a sense of contentment rarely felt by me these days.  I cannot honestly call this ‘the battle against change’, but I feel justified in saying that my actions allowed that particular battle to be waged successfully.

                While our actions that day did not greatly advance the plover species beyond their endangered status, it did fulfill what I believe to be our inherent responsibility to the species around us.  While conservation efforts are certainly worthy of our best efforts, it will not be some great cause that will bring balance back to nature and man.  It will only come when all of us accept our small roles as temporary stewards as we interact with nature.  Millions of small acts of decency such as this will ensure the survival of all species destined to do so, and bring about a conscious awareness that will forever protect the resources we so greatly enjoy.  And while the bulldozers edge us closer to a concrete paved future, I am confident the ‘spirits of this place’ will continue to flourish within the solitary existence of this protected isle.

By Jim Mason