At the South Beach shore was a scattering of sandpipers.
I am told that the correct collective noun for a group of sandpipers is a “fling”.
The word choice is good, for that’s just what sandpipers do as a group when they go airborne, they fling themselves aloft. They fling, up in a heartbeat, but soon settle, resuming their search for food. They look like little sewing machines as their beaks stitch up and down through the wet sand.
“Where’s the serendipity?”, you ask?
Here, in this photo.
The birds look choreographed.
Half of them with right legs up, half with legs crossing, moving forward. When I saw it, I was reminded of the musical “West Side Story”, and the song “Here Come the Jets”.