What a joy to see the great
egrets again, chasing each other around in the pond below my house in Fish Bay.
I knew most of the black mangrove trees had been stripped of leaves and blown
over, but didn’t know how the birds had fared.
When I arrived I saw there
was some water in the pond, and one day there were five great egrets down there
at once. These seem to be resident birds because they have the long feathery
frills and green patches on their faces that indicate they are breeding.
The water attracted a variety of other birds too.
The clapper rails were
particularly noisy, calling out to each other loudly, and easy to spot because
the pond edges were so exposed.
A little blue heron came to
fish in the pond.
And a gray kingbird perched
on a dead branch, swooping out to catch bugs flying by – with plenty to choose
from.
One morning I was very
excited to see some movement by the edge of the pond that turned out to be a
red-faced common gallinule (formerly called a common moorhen).
It was a mother and a baby.
No wait, two babies.
They swam across the pond and
then were hidden again. But not well enough. In a few minutes I saw out of the
corner of my eye a pearly-eyed thrasher flying by with a black fuzzy ball dangling
from its sharp beak. Oh no! Immediately the mother gallinule went chasing after
the kidnapper, clucking and crying out in the bushes where I couldn’t see what
was happening.
Finally I saw the mother creeping
out of the bushes, and I imagined her heartbreak - but then I saw that
miraculously both babies were with her.
Unfortunately one baby was
hopping – its leg seemed to have been injured during the thrasher capture.
The unrepentant thrasher
watched from a branch.
I haven’t seen the gallinule
family since then, so I don’t know if the baby recovered.
But I have seen green herons,
and black smooth-billed anis, adapting to the changed, less-leafed environment.
It has been great to see so
many old friends still here, despite all the changes and turmoil.
