By George Jameson Northward they come, wave after undulating wave. Moving with the memory imprinted by the millennium of travel. Stopping in the shelter of the mud flats, pausing on the slopes of the exposed beaches, resting for a day or two then moving on. Willapa Bay, Sitkine River Delta, Copper River Delta, Kachemak Bay. Northward they come. Here in Homer, in Southwestern Alaska, you see a few in the first days of May. Then as the month slowly progresses the numbers increase as if the gates on the dam are opening and the river is growing larger and larger soon to be a deafening roar. Whimbrel, Dunlin, Western, Least, Black-bellied Plover, Dowitcher, Yellowlegs. And the Pacific Golden-Plover is joining in; it missed the bays coming straight up from the Hawaiian Islands. Semi-palmated Plover, Red Knot, Surfbird, Bristle-thighed Curlew and the list goes on. All the families are coming through, all the wanderers are moving. Lesser Yellowlegs If you watch the tide book, pick the right time of day, and get to the mud flats when the tide has them partially exposed you will see a segment of the legions.  Moving about in the flats, they are probing for food, refilling their fuel tanks, resting their tired bodies. You can see a mixed group of perhaps 35,000 shorebirds, many in number, yet only a small part of the movement north. They appear as small dots, at times just moving blurs. At other times they sit, quietly sleeping, standing on one leg, pausing their travels before continuing on. Western Sandpiper and Dunlin Often they will take flight as if startled by some external force. A flock will lift off and in synchronized movement fly about the exposed bay before settling on a new feeding site. As they fly their wingtips almost touch, seemingly overlap, yet they never collide. They move as if with one mind, one set of wings. As they fly we see their brownish backs and they almost disappear against the exposed bay as they turn we can view their white underbellies and they sparkle bright white. With the incoming tide, the rising waters will push them closer and closer and then you can see the field marks and identify the travelers, you can name the members of the legion. You can sit and watch them move, see them scurry about, listen to their voices and call notes, you can be a quiet visitor sharing their journey. They are all heading to their breeding grounds still further north and their biological clocks are ticking. In the fall with their summer's work done they will head south. Some will traverse back along this same route while many will take an entirely different direction to their winter homes. They will all come back this way next year, they always have, hopefully, they always will. The legions of shorebirds. Lesser Yellowlegs, Western and Dunlin photos, as well as all text, are copyright of George Jameson.