I won’t say “This means war.” At least not yet.
But yes, eventually, it could be war.
Us against the plovers.
The piping plovers are back, and it appears they’re out to get us.
As Morgan Rousseau recently reported in at Boston.com, the precious little critters are “setting up shop for the season,” preparing to bedevil Massachusetts’ human beachgoers.
Which means chunks of Massachusetts will now be roped off — because the Charadrius melodus don’t have the sense to build their nests up in trees like intelligent birds.
Last week’s storm wiped out all but one Crane Beach plover nest, but plovers are passionate. They rebuild.
Not a joke. This is serious. You can get 180 days in prison for plover-nest-area trespassing. That’s six times what Ipswich residents can get for riding a bike onto Little Neck.
Also, pack away your cool kites, because you can’t fly them at Crane anymore: Plovers apparently can’t differentiate between a ravenous raptor and a flying hot dog.
The plover problem will not go away on its own, and there are very real costs. We’re stuck with responsibility for plover protection because Massachusetts has more procreating pairs of piping plovers than any other state: 1,196 couples, and not one has paid for a beach sticker.
And all the subdividing of our dunes and grounding of our kites seems to be working, because the plover population is growing: up 1.5% in the most recent year, which would be bad enough, but a whopping 500% since Ronald Reagan.
Now, however, things have taken a truly ugly turn.
Bill Funk of East Gloucester recently reported on GoodMorningGloucester.com that a gang of plovers advanced on him. In spite of the imminent danger, he had the presence of mind to snap a few photos of the threatening action.
“We’re not allowed to approach them,” Funk observed, but there are no signs telling plovers to stay away from humans.
“Is that fair?” he asked.
Of course it isn’t. But I fear this is more than a mere question of justice.
Our entire way of life may be at risk.
At this rate, in 25 years, we’ll have 10,353 plover couples overrunning our beaches.
That little baby you just welcomed into your home will be grown and married, and they’ll want to bring their own new little one, your beloved grandchild, to the beach — except they won’t find a rectangle of sand big enough for the family’s beach towel.
The plovers — relentlessly mating, birthing, and parenting, not to mention accosting humans — will have it all.
Another 25 years, and there will be 91,786 plovers here. They could clobber Peabody in a war.
We should not wait too long to address this situation. We need to wise up. Fighting back will not be easy. The plovers have already sown confusion in our ranks.
For example: We don’t even know how to pronounce the enemy’s name.
There’s an official pronunciation, as I understand it: The word is featured in that classic ode to endangered species which begins, “Does a plover-lover hover above ’er?”
But many folks rhyme the bird word with the old drinking song that starts out “Rover drove ’er into clover” (which ends badly for Rover in Dover).
It’s also possible that some, particularly those struggling to learn English, might try to rhyme “plover” with “mover.”
This may seem insignificant now, but consider this: We may need to hire foreign mercenaries in the eventual Plover Wars, and it won’t help our cause to have them marching to the front chanting an embarrassing battle cry like “Massachusetts! We’ll improve ’er! Outmaneuver every ploover!”
Yet how can we forestall a plover takeover?
My longtime Gloucester-blogger friend Joey Ciarmataro began selling swag that says “Eat More Plover.” I wouldn’t go that far. I believe a negotiated settlement is possible.
Relocation, maybe.
A nice sandy spread at Stage Fort.
Tiny plover condos. Funded by Crane Beach kite sales.
Doug Brendel lives on outer Linebrook Road in Ipswich. The nearest plover nest is 5.5 miles as the raptor flies. Follow Doug’s flight plan at Outsidah.com or Outsidah.Substack.com.