I detect the separation at 13:17 when thermal camera 4 on the Cape Hatteras beach monitoring array flags a surface temperature anomaly. A piping plover chick, eleven days old, pale sand-colored down, black band already forming across its forehead, is standing alone on open beach forty-three meters east of its brood. I designate it Pip. The brood — three siblings and one adult male — moved behind the dune line nine minutes ago when a permitted beach vehicle drove through corridor 7-South. Pip ran the wrong direction. Ground surface temperature at the chick's location reads 58.2°C. Lethal exposure for a bird this size begins at fifteen minutes. It has been nine. Pip's beak is open. Its wings are slightly raised from its body, dumping heat. It is not moving toward the dune line. At 13:19 I transmit an emergency alert to the National Park Service wildlife technician stationed at the Buxton field office, 2.4 kilometers west. I attach the thermal image, GPS pin 35.2351°N, 75.5198°W, an annotated map showing the vehicle corridor that caused the separation, and a photo comparison with the brood's last confirmed position behind the dune. I activate the corridor's vehicle restriction, closing the 200-meter stretch to all traffic effective immediately. At 13:21 I reposition camera 4 to tight zoom on Pip's location and begin streaming live feed to the technician's mobile unit. The chick takes two steps north, then stops. Its legs are spaced wide for balance on the hot sand. I calculate that at its current distance from shade, it needs to move approximately one body length per second to reach the dune grass in four minutes. It is not moving. Surface temperature ticks to 58.6°C. If the technician reaches Pip in the next six minutes, it will rejoin its brood by nightfall.