Whenever I read the word “sandpiper”, I hear again the quick rush of the River Irthing, which forms a boundary between Cumbria and Northumberland. It was along this swift upland water that I often used to encounter sandpipers with my father. Not much bigger than a pied wagtail, they would rise at our approach, their distinctive, piping call ringing out, as the underparts of their body and tail flashed white as lightning.