What a difference a day makes. It hasn’t even been 24 hours and, already, I get it. I’m all in on Mama Hoo Hoo. I now understand why there is a txt thread made up of current and former monitors who knew Mama Hoo Hoo, where they discuss her trials, tribulations, and adventures, and also harass me to make Mama Hoo Hoo merchandise for them to buy each other as gifts.
Brace yourselves for an insane story.
When we last left Mama Hoo Hoo, she had hatched two adorable chicks, but a stubborn third egg just wasn’t hatching. Even though a day had passed and the two chicks really needed to start moving on and finding food, Mama Hoo Hoo and Francisco were totally committed to that egg.
And they were right. It finally hatched at 4:30 AM yesterday morning.
Thanks to the volunteer monitor and extraordinary photographer, Matt Reitinger, we were able to give full-coverage chick-sitting to watch over the brood as they hunkered down in this busy and dangerous area of the park during this delicate time.
Then finally, shortly after sunrise, and even though the third chick was just a few hours old, Mama Hoo Hoo and Francisco began leading them away from the nest and deeper into the park.
By 9AM the brood had already reached the inlet. There I met a lovely birder named Hillary. Just as she got her scope locked on Mama Hoo Hoo and the three tiny chicks, Hillary suddenly began to sob. There was no need to explain. It was a beautiful moment. I began to tear up too. Not only because I was exhausted from the back-to-back sunrise/sunset chick sitting shifts, but because this whole scene reminded me of the old days, before Plover Park was built, when we used to have do this kind of stuff all the time (following tiny chicks around totally unprotected areas to keep them from getting trampled on busy holidays.)
I would never want to go back of course, but Pushkin said it best: “Everything will pass, and what will pass, will become dear.”
Soon a truck with the Dream Team of Alf, Cody, and Jeannifer from NJFW showed up to build a new fence around the tidepool, giving Mama Hoo Hoo and her family a safe place to feed. Plover Park has created such a safe place for our beach nesting birds, NJFW had not even needed to post any fence around the inlet tide pool at all this season.
Everything was going smoothly. My work was finally done here, and I was desperate for coffee, so I headed home.
But I hadn’t even finished that coffee when I saw the following note come through on my NestStory feed:
What?! This was as confusing as it was heartbreaking. Following up with everyone, it wasn’t entirely clear if the chick was eaten or dropped. Or if it was dropped, where, and what condition it was in, or if it was dropped on land or in the water. It all just happened so quickly, and so chaotically.
I was devastated that this happened so soon to the new brood. I knew Mama Hoo Hoo was cursed, but this was horrific. I couldn’t even imagine what Alf, Cody, and Jeannifer were going through out there, trying to build a massive fence on a hot morning, and dealing with this chaotic sadness. And I was pretty sure the photographer they mentioned was Hillary who I’d just shared a tear with that morning.
There is only one other person who stalks the NestStory feed of activity at Barnegat Light as closely as I do, and that’s Todd Pover, the creator of Plover Park. He messaged me immediately because he was as confused as I was. Todd, too, was getting sucked into the Mama Hoo Hoo story. He had just given a tour in the park the day before and stumbled on her hatch. He immediately became completely invested in figuring out where she might take the chicks. As a former director of NJFW’s beach nesting program, he knew what a big job it would be to build them a new fence on a busy weekend, so getting the location right was critical.
Todd nudged me to get back out there and take a look and not delay in getting a followup assessment. It was important to know if this chick was alive, and if so, if it had any injuries, and either way, how the brood was responding and where they might be heading.
So I ran over in the mid-day heat and bumbled around the grim scene. I managed to find Francisco first. He was acting a bit protective, like he might have chicks hidden somewhere, which was a great sign. I continued to explore, and later found Mama Hoo Hoo, acting pretty much the same.
But I never saw the chicks. They could have been hidden safely in the dune grass, in the blazing mid-day sun and searing heat. While Mama Hoo Hoo and Francisco were defensive, it was inconclusive. They could have lost them all by that point, and were simply being territorial. I wasn’t going to bother them any more than they’d already been bothered. I went home more concerned and confused than before I’d come.
The one person who wasn’t panicked was Kashi Davis, co-director of the beach-nesting bird program at NJFW. I don’t know what’s gotten into her this year, but she is just a bottomless well of hope and positivity. I am almost suspicious that her positive and constructive outlook on everything is literally manifesting this incredible season. She kept saying things like “when gulls eat, they are usually standing straight up. If the gull was being chased, it would not have swallowed the chick.” It was small comfort for sure. Whatever the case, there was nothing to do but wait.
So I waited to give the birds plenty of time to regroup and stay cool. When I finally headed out as the afternoon sun faded and the breeze picked up, I braced myself for the worst, and hopefully, the best.
When I approached the area of the park we call “The River,” I was encouraged to hear two adults loudly making chick calls. This must be Mama Hoo Hoo and Francisco. No other birds have chicks young enough to make this many chick calls.
I carefully approached and saw them both on top of the dune, calmly, but loudly and repeatedly, making calls. Not wanting to spook them and assuming they must have had at least one chick somewhere, I snuck around the hill and walked slowly up the river.
As I came around the bend, there they were, right in front of me. Three, beautiful babies. All fine, all healthy.
The scene was the exact opposite of our worst fears. Not only did no one get eaten or injured, but the chicks were thriving. Mama Hoo Hoo and Francisco were pushing them to the outer limits. They were brooding them in rocks. They were encouraging these tiny, one-day old babies to actually swim across the river (yes, piping plover can swim, they just don’t do it very often, and usually not as babies!)
Then, for reasons unknown, Mama Hoo Hoo made them all scale a huge vertical dune face when others more suitable were available.
I’ve never seen anything like it. I have never wanted to pick up a chick and move it more than I did when I saw the tiny one trying for almost 5 minutes to get up the dune and join the family.
But it did it.
So what is Mama Hoo Hoo up to? If you ask me, she might be preparing herself and her family to make a big, bold move here. Only time will tell, but she is now positioned to make a move on the most coveted area of the park: The Corner, currently controlled by Plover Park’s most powerful pair, Lindsey Buckingham & Goldie Sachs.
And she just might pull it off. Because Lindsey & Goldie are in a weakened state right now… which is a story for another time.
Stay tuned. And Godspeed Mama Hoo Hoo! I get it now. I now know why I built you a web site. I’m all in.
Note: If anybody knows this mystery birder named Hillary, or Hillary, if you are reading this, please contact info@little-egg.org! We want to thank you. While Matt, Alf, Cody, Jeannifer, Todd, Emily, and Kashi are all big heroes here, Hillary is the real hero of this story. I still don’t understand how you chased down that gull and miraculously saved this chick, but I do understand why you sobbed when you first laid eyes on these babies:
Because you were about to become part of Mama Hoo Hoo’s destiny!
Say something kind