call me stilted

How easy to judge at first glance
to sum me up and decree:
“She’s uppity, just look how she walks;
see, there’s mud on her toes,”
and on they talk.

Heads wagging, not knowing
that mire hides treasures sweet:
morsel-gems to nourish a soul,
sequestered dark and deep;
stored just for me.

I Am created me perfectly,
a tailored contrast, ebony on white,
gliding along on stilts so strong
with a view that others rarely
pause to see.

My wild niche fits sweet
with water shallow, screens of green,
and beaches warm where I can nest.
With fellows here, we watch and keep
through life-tempest.

If you will, come closer please;
sit there, don tights of pink,
perceive through chestnut eyes
poised over beak straight and true.
Let Light come to you.

Paths of purpose we may walk
as parcels of the plan.
Judge not the visage strange;
take time to look,
acclaim and understand.

Black-necked Stilt

Black-necked stilts have the longest legs for their size of any bird, second only to the flamingo. As such, they are abundantly equipped for foraging on fresh and saltwater mud flats and marshes. There they spot insects, tadpoles, aquatic crustaceans, and seeds to feed upon. With their long slender bills they expertly extract their food. Found during the winter along the southern coastal regions of the United States, some remain year-round while others migrate to more northerly climes for summer breeding and raising of young. Their striking dainty appearance makes them a favorite of nature lovers everywhere.

Black-necked Stilts Flying over Eco Pond in Everglades National Park

Parenting, Osprey Style

One of the most magnificent birds in South Florida is the Osprey. This past week, my husband and I revisited this great “Fish Hawk” at its Flamingo nesting grounds in Everglades National Park.  One nest, positioned atop a dead Saw Palmetto and near the visitor parking lot provided excellent viewing. (Note: Some files are large and though optimized may require a bit longer than normal to load. Some optimization artifacts are also evident. Sorry!)

Osprey Parent with Two Chicks

The chicks on this nest seemed nearly full grown. Notice that their coloration is slightly lighter and more mottled than their parent. The father has an all white breast and the mother’s breast has a scattered necklace of brown feathers.

Duck! Dad's Landing

The nest’s depth kept both chicks hidden from view. Although I couldn’t see inside, based on other nests in the area, I assume it was lined with soft Spanish moss.  When the parents weren’t on the nest, at least one of them could be seen close by on a nearby tree.

Standing Guard

While I watched, mother Osprey arrived with some new nesting material. Both the ranger, who happened to be observing, and I were mystified at this latest addition. Was she shoring the nest up due to the increasing weight it must bear or was she simply . . .

Redecorating

When a chick became hungry it would call loudly until dinner arrived.

I Want Food!

Yellowtail, My Favorite!

Mother Osprey carefully tore off small pieces of fresh fish and fed them to each hungry youngster.

Sashimi

Open Wide!

After dinner, both parents retired to nearby trees leaving the chicks alone in the nest. One chick took this opportunity to try spreading its wings. It wobbled and seemed to have trouble figuring out what to do with such long appendages.

How do these Wings Work?

As we prepared to leave two other parents arrived. It seems this Red-bellied Woodpecker couple also laid claim to the old palmetto as a perfect location for raising a family.

First Floor Apartment Dwellers

Humm . . . Do you think old palmetto trees might give maternity wards a run for their money?

the beach least traveled

Florida has some beautiful beaches. Recently, we went in search of  one famous for the largest outcropping of Anastasia limestone on the Atlantic coast, Blowing Rocks Preserve. Its unusual name comes from the up to 50 foot “geysers” created when wind drives surf through holes in the rocks. I wanted to photograph the beach at sunset and again at sunrise the next morning. On the day we chose, an easterly wind piled the sea high enough for some real wave action. We arrived in late afternoon only to find that the preserve’s hours are from 9:00 to 4:30! Disappointed, we searched for nearby beach access and  found Coral Cove Park, also known as Little Blowing Rocks.

We found the beach deserted except for a few active shorebirds.

Ring-billed Gull

Semipalmated Sandpiper

The next morning we crawled out of our beds at 5:00 and drove the 15 miles from our motel back to Coral Cove, determined to catch the sunrise. The waves had calmed somewhat and once again we had the beach all to ourselves.  As the horizon began to glow, I readied my tripod, camera, and cable release for the big moment.

. . . make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord! Let the sea roar, and all that fills it; the world and those who dwell in it! Psalm 98:6b-7

Awash in Morning Light

I set my camera free of its tripod and walked the beach allowing the fresh ocean breeze to envelop me as I took in the glory of this unique time and place.

Sea Jaws

Treasures of Sand and Surf

Like every beautiful experience this one had come to an end. We left the beach and stopped on the way to enjoy a view of  Jupiter Inlet Lighthouse.

Jupiter Inlet Lighthouse

I treasure the memories of this trip because it taught me to look beyond frustrated plans and hopes to seek and enjoy the beach least traveled.

island adventure

Pelican Island

Recently, my husband and I returned to Pelican Island in Florida Bay in hopes of viewing young Great Egrets on the nest. It is a small mangrove island without sandy beach or even a clearing suited to human habitation. Rather, it is home to three varieties of mangrove and a selection of birds including Double-crested Cormorants and Great Egrets. The last time we visited the island was nearly eight months ago. Unfortunately, it was there that a memorable event, the Great Puss Caterpillar Attack, occurred. So, it took a bit of bravery (some might say lunacy) on my part to venture onto the island again. Yet, drawn by the lure of viewing, and photographing, young Great Egrets we returned. Anchoring our boat near the island, a cacophony of guttural squawks assured us of the presence of nestlings. With eager anticipation we slipped into our kayak and paddled quietly to the mangrove root tangled shore. There we carefully climbed from arching root to root onto the island while steadying ourselves with skinny mangrove trunks.  There twenty-foot trees held in their highest branches great nests of white guano covered sticks and young egrets. Their parents stood guard on nearby branches.

Watchful Great Egret Parent

The chicks eyed us warily at first.

Soon, however, they seemed to forget the human intrusion under their secure canopy world. Capturing images uncluttered with sticks, branches, tree trunks, and foliage seemed next to impossible. Not wanting to cause any disturbance, we moved silently, endeavoring to avoid stepping on the six-inch aerial roots of the white mangrove that crowded the forest floor. All this was done while balancing on a chosen root or inches of unoccupied mud with a careful eye out for creatures that might sting or bite. Any move to climb up a slanting tree trunk for a better look was met with warning clucks from egret parents with medieval sword-like beaks. Just look at these adorable chicks.

On the Lookout

Looking up to Big Brother

This one is my favorite. What do you think the bird on the left is saying? I think it’s, “Look what Momma’s about to do!”

Out on a Limb

On the mangrove forest floor there are large circles of whitewash indicating the presence of a nest tucked high in the branches above. It was either that I ignored these circles of warning or that a mother egret grew sick and tired of my presence, but just as I endeavored to compose another shot of the fuzzy headed darlings, SPLAT, an enormous volume of liquidy white goo dumped on my right hand, my shoulder, and my hair. Yuck! It might be good fertilizer, but hand or hair cream it’s not. Once we made it back to the boat, I washed  with vigor first in salt water and then with soap and freshwater, but I still smelled like a fish market dumpster. Thus, our island adventure came an end. Once back on shore, we viewed innocuous looking little Pelican Island in the light of the setting sun and wondered how such a bucolic scene could mask such unbridled treachery.

Sunset on Pelican Island