Although I couldn’t see clearly as I came along the boardwalk with the sun in my eyes, that reedy whistle was unmistakable. I don’t know if this guy was singing for his supper, but after hand feeding red-winged blackbirds in the George C. Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary, I wasn’t really surprised that he seemed content to sit on the railing as people went by, quite close.
Hey, Power Director peeps.
How y’all doin’ out there?
My name is Maliek
and I’m back on your screen
with more Power Director love
from Power Director University.
Those are the words but the visual-only version doesn’t do justice to the rhythm of the audiovisual original. The 30-something African-American host for this how-to YouTube video is talking with a stagey emphasis. Continue reading
Wearing sandals that are good for walking but not so good for climbing, I make my way carefully down a steep dirt and gravel slope. Carefully because a mis-step could see me slip-sliding down that slope and into and, maybe, over all that lies between me and the Straits of Florida: a shin-high concrete barrier. One hand is fully occupied hanging onto my camera.
That’s when an unexpected rustle comes from my left, and my peripheral vision sees motion, but not what’s causing it. A snake? Some other woman-wearing-sandals-eating wildlife? My heart rate ratchets up a tad. Continue reading
The Wakodahatchee Wetlands is home to more than birds. The first iguana was lying quietly in a tree; the second was shaking his dewlap when I walked by, reminding me strongly of John Diefenbaker.
It’s interesting to watch, even if it does trigger my own gag reflex.
From West Palm Beach to Miami, the southeast coast of Florida is solid city, as near as I can tell: One municipality merges into another with no break. That’s what makes their wetland centers even more impressive.
Green Cay is one such, with 1.5 miles of boardwalk wending through swamp and scrubland. It’s great for birdwatching. The only downside for photography is that you’re usually above the birds or at quite a distance from them.
The purple gallinule is a common bird, but its plumage is no less beautiful for that.
I don’t know my warblers. If I see a small, heavily patterned bird with some yellow on it, I always guess the yellow-rumped warbler.
In this case my bird app, Merlin, disagrees, identifying this one as an adult palm warbler in non-breeding colours.
At least the yellow-rumped is shown as one of seven similar species . . .
I first saw these birds in Arizona. They were one of the first unknown birds I saw that I was able to identify from my bird book (I mean, check out that orange-red eye), so they’ve been a favourite. I usually see them snuggled into a bush, either asleep or perching stock-still. You don’t need to worry about a fast shutter speed with a night heron.
So when I saw one in the water, more-or-less actively hunting (which still involved a lot of standing stock-still), I was pretty excited, even though it was a fair distance away.
Revisiting the St. Augustine Alligator Farm, I made a beeline for the rookery, hoping to see many roseate spoonbills as I had three years earlier. On my way there, though, I saw a yellow-crowned night heron in the same tree – maybe on the same branch – as before. For all I know, it was the same bird. Indeed, he/she may not have moved at all . . .
I must admit that the mouthful of feathers sort of bothers me. Bleah!
Posted: 2025 Jun 13
Thanks to John Whitman for this slightly dismayed face from downtown Ottawa.
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