Never had I ever, before Mama Hoo Hoo

Never had I ever seen a piping plover lay an egg so far outside the restoration area, and so close to the lighthouse.

Never had I ever had someone find a nest before we did.

Never had I ever thought I’d build a fence around a piping plover nest with Jay Mann from The Sandpaper.

Never had I ever met Linda Bonvie from Barnegat Light State Park.

Never had I ever built a web site just for one bird.

Never had I ever known a bird who had its own txt thread, where former monitors who knew it still discussed it.

Never had I ever heard of gull snatching a chick, getting chased down, and dropping the chick.

Never had I ever heard of such a chick surviving.

Never had I ever seen freshly hatched baby plovers swim.

Never had I ever seen freshly hatched chicks scale a vertical dune face.

Never had I ever seen anyone make Lindsey Buckingham bow in submission.

Never had I ever seen a piping plover lifted by its bill and kicked in the throat.

Never had I ever seen an entire brood with Greasy Chick Syndrome.

Never had I ever seen a chick so clearly undersized, but still so plump and energetic.

Never had I ever seen a piping plover catch a fish and try to eat it.

Never had I ever seen a chick live so much of its life so publicly, and bring delight to so many people.

Never had I ever had so many people ask me about how one of our birds is doing.

Never had I ever wanted a mating pair to be successful more than you, Mama Hoo Hoo and Francisco.

Never had I ever seen a chick with so many of the odds stacked against it come so far, and hang on for so long.

Never had I ever wanted a chick to fledge more.

And never have I ever been so sad to lose one.

I’m sorry everyone. This one is a tough loss. I don’t think I’ve enjoyed spending time with a family plovers as much as I did this brood in a long, long time. Not monitoring; just sitting and enjoying the summer evening along side of them. And I’m not the only one.

We can’t say we weren’t warned about Mama Hoo Hoo, her magnetic charisma, and the trail of joy and sadness she leaves behind in the places she calls home each summer.

But Mama Hoo Hoo and Francisco survive. They will soon make their way to the Bahamas to recharge and, hopefully, return to us another year older and wiser. And sad as the results were, this actually was Mama Hoo Hoo’s best season yet.

I have a feeling 2027 will finally be her season. I hope it’s back here with us in Plover Park.

And never have I ever wanted a hunch to be correct as much as I do that one.