Oh, what rapturous welcome I received this morning after I had tied my shoelaces and made my way down the stairs on to the sand. There, at the bottom was a small congregation of sandpipers.

“Good morning!” shouted one and I smiled.

I was pleased I was beginning to identity them individually, “good morning, Martha,” I replied, my heart filled with joy. How could it not be? A beautiful morning, just a slight breeze. The tide was going out and there were my walking companions to welcome me.

“How are you?” replied the bird, “and oh by the way, I’m not Martha, I’m Jeremy.” Oh well there goes my theory. Not to be deterred, I told them all how wonderful I felt especially with the reception. I began counting the sandpipers but was saved the trouble by one of the others who told me there were eight of them. Impressed, I was going to ask for their names when the sandpiper who had done counting chirped up again.

“Thanks for asking after me,” oh it must be Martha and I was correct. It felt good to talk to her again. I zeroed out my GPS watch as the birds stood around waiting for me to begin my walk. “Before we go,” said Jeremey we want to talk quickly about the project. We have collected the 8 most important ones in our community who you can write about.”

I smiled, but I needed to ask a couple of questions first, “shall we walk?”

“Yes, yes, sure, sure,” replied George. “What are your questions?”

“Well,” I replied picking up speed and walking as close to the water line as possible without soaking my shoes. The birds though shot off at various intervals into the waves to see if they could come up with some food.

But before I could answer, Martha made a suggestion, “as far as the photos are concerned, we heard about the Max’s suggestion made to you yesterday.”

“Is he here?” I asked annoying Martha with my interruption.

“No, he’s in church. Today is Sunday after all.” I smiled but considered myself chastised, but I wasn’t done yet.

“Is he one of the 8?”

“No, he isn’t,” replied Martha now sounding annoyed for being interrupted yet again.

“Why not?” I asked which stumped them for minute.

“Well,” explained George, “he’s technically not one of the pack. We keep him around just so people don’t think were racist.” Birds, racist? Who knew!

“That’s silly,” I replied believing they were trying to be funny, “but I think Max should be part of the group.” There was silence at first and then after a brief conflab George spoke up.

“Yes, you’re right. Max should be one of them.” With that settled, we restarted our walk. This time though once we had reached the blue crab sanctuary near the New River, George asked if we could stop walking and talk for a minute to settle the verbal contract.

“Can I have each bird’s name?” I asked believing that was the best place to begin.

George obliged. “Well, there’s me George, then Martha, Julie, Jeremy, Carol, Rosa and now Max.”

“That’s only 7,” I replied, “what about the other two?”

“Well,” continued George, “there’s Elizabeth in the back row who’s a slip and fall lawyer,” and he sighed, “an embarrassment to the community,” he whispered.

“Then there’s Timothy.” Martha concluded.

“Which one is Timothy.”

“He’s in the back row next to Elizabeth.”

“Hello Timothy,” I said expecting him to reply with a simple hello, but he remained silent.

“He won't talk Martha,” told me, “He’s just reaching puberty and his voice is breaking, so he’s shy.”

“How old is he,”

“12 in human years,” Martha replied sensing my next question.

“Oh, so he will be 13 next year!”

Martha interrupted me, “yes, we had planned a bar mitzvah for him, but he doesn’t want one. Or should I say he told me that unless he can have a bar mitzvah at the Wall in Jerusalem, he doesn’t want one.”

“So why don’t you take him?”

“Too far to fly. We may get injured flying all that way and then who do we sue?” No need to tell you who said that.

“Well, I have an idea. I haven’t had a bar mitzvah either. So maybe we can come up with a way for me to take all of you in a cage.”

“Cage! They all screamed together. “Oh, how awful.”

“Anyway, it was just an idea.”

“Hold on fellows,” it was Timothy. “If that is the only way for me to go to the Wall to have my bar mitzvah, then I’ll go.” Suddenly everyone’s tune changed. They shouted at different levels “not without me,” and “I’m your mother you can’t do that to me,” and then George shouted above all of them stop.

“Let’s deal with one thing at a time. Oy vey, now that you have the names of the ones you’ll write about, why don’t we take photos of us individually now.” There was one problem. I didn’t have my iPhone.

“You should’ve told me and I would’ve brought it with me.”

“What are doing later?” a new bird had joined the group. It turned on to be Max. Everyone looked at him, “what are doing here?”

“I went to church services and then when they were done, I came out to join you guys.”

“You don’t have to stay in church all day?” asked Julie.

“No. Only you guys do that!”

“Maybe I should convert,” said Rosa.

“I’ll smack your beak if you say that again,” replied Martha. We all agreed to meet later when I had my iPhone with me.

As the group dispersed and I began to walk again, I heard a voice down to my right. “Thanks for sticking up for me,” it was Max.

“No problem,” I replied, “I try to stick up for the rights of the minority!” And with that, he scurried off shouting to Timothy to wait for him.