A Tangle of Yellowlegs

Middle Creek in early May is a staging ground, not a destination. The Lesser Yellowlegs passing through here are bound for the boreal forests of Canada and Alaska, still weeks away from the muskeg where they will nest. But pair bonds form on the journey, and on this particular morning the pond was full of birds working it out. I lost count of the interactions. All around the pond, the same drama played out — a male launching into the air after a female, the two of them rising in a vertical tangle of wings and yellow legs, bills open in sharp calls. She would resist, twist away, land in the shallows. He would follow, mount her, press her briefly beneath the water. Then she would push free, shake off, and that patch of pond would settle — until the next pair began nearby. Most of what I watched dissolved into chase and retreat, the timing not quite right, the bond not yet sealed. This sequence was the exception — the only one I saw complete from confrontation to consummation to the female's swift departure. By midmorning the pond was quiet again. The birds fed, rested, waited for the next leg north.