When it comes to bird names I’ve never much liked the word “common”. Not only is it usually inaccurate (as in gull, scoter and rosefinch), it also suggests that the species is not worth a second glance. For the common sandpiper, that’s certainly not true. It’s always a pleasure to come across this neat little wader, whether along a Scottish stream, on its African wintering grounds, or at my coastal patch, the Brue and Parrett estuaries in Somerset.
I’ve seen these sandpipers as early as March here and as late as November. But autumn marks the peak passage as they stop off to feed on the muddy river edges on their journey south.
The other day I visited at high tide and was delighted to hear a series of high-pitched, whistling notes, indicating that a common sandpiper was nearby. Sure enough I caught sight of the bird as it flew low over the water on stiff, whirring, wings.
When it landed it bobbed up and down – a habit common among riverine species, including the grey wagtail and dipper.
Having picked up a few morsels of food with its short, straight, bill, the sandpiper then flew off again – like a hyperactive clockwork toy.
Stephen Moss’s latest book is Mrs Moreau’s Warbler: How Birds Got Their Names (Guardian Faber).
