Starfish (moments)

Every day an old man walked on the beach picking up starfish that had been washed ashore by the tide and he threw them back into the sea.

One day a young boy stopped the old man and asked," Mister, why do you throw the starfish back into the sea?"

The old man answered," Because they will die in the hot sun if left here stranded on the beach."

“But sir, there are so many and the beach goes on for miles. You can`t possibly make a difference."

The old man slowly bent over once more, picked up another starfish and threw it back into the sea and replied, "IT MADE A HUGE DIFFERENCE FOR THAT ONE."

Perhaps you have heard this story and even had your own “starfish” moments. Times when you did something which others might think pointless or unimportant in the grand scheme, but you did it anyway. I had one recently which I’d like to tell you about because it just felt good.

Barbara and I were birding along a posted (no trespassing) Department of Transpiration Mitigation Pond area. Guilty hint: As any honest birder will tell you; the posted areas always have the best bird watching. The glimmering water was alive with an amazing variety of bird species, mostly protected from the view of speeding cars on the roadway. A small drainage creek also ran perpendicular to the roadway next to the pond and under the two wide lanes of traffic. After carefully dodging multiple cars zooming along the road from the small strip-mall parking lot to the grass near the pond, a quick glance toward the creek provided a glimpse of a pair of large water birds with a small “baby” bird paddling along behind. The trio had emerged from one of the twin culverts, did a quick u-turn and swam back into the other shaft. “Awww…wasn’t that precious?” I asked as the birds disappeared into the darkness under the road.

We had not walked another ten feet up stream of the creek when I heard noises and saw three other of these same large wading birds (I later identified them as Limpkins) standing at the edge of the creek in a muddy, stagnant and mossy trapped area of water. The “leader” of the group looked up from the water and at the two of us. (I later reflected that the look on the lead bird’s face was one of guilt, but more on that later). I grabbed the camera around my neck and began snapping images of these large animals when suddenly; the leader looked back into the water and began repeatedly stabbing its long bill downward. I admit at times I am not too swift, however I immediately understood what the lead Limpkin was doing…it was pounding on a tiny fluffy figure that was chirping and twirling in the shallow water. The damn bully limpkin was trying to KILL the baby bird.

The Evil Limpkins

While Barbara has heard my speech about nature and my belief in the circle of life, and all – I acted swiftly, surprisingly (and perhaps) uncharacteristically. Chasing away the “evil” Limpkins, I scooted down as far down the muddy creek-side as possible and scooped the struggling wee one from its soon to be watery grave. While doing that I also noticed that the band of marauders had already killed another baby as it was floating near the still alive chick. I removed that one too and gently placed it on the ground near the bank. I thought that perhaps this seemingly senseless death might provide some sustenance for some other carrion eating creature, so I left it sadly there. Now what to do with the survivor?

“Oh great, we’re not even supposed to be prowling around this Mitigation area, we’re from out of town, and we have a baby (something) to take care of!” I frustratedly said. I brushed off some of the creek slime and walked to where we had previously seen the swimming family. It seemed as though that this damaged baby bird closely resembled the other one that had trailed the two parent birds; could they all be Limpkins? That realization quickly made me glad with my decision to assist in the backwater mauling and assassination attempt as I could not understand why a bird of the same species would kill one of its young (let alone TWO of its young) unless there was something kinda’ funky going on. Anthropomorphically speaking (and that’s the best any of us can do, cause none of us actually speak or understand “animal” – and don’t let anyone on YouTube know this, but it’s true) it looked like there was some serious evil Limpkin-esque jealousy going on…kinda’ a “since I couldn’t have any babies neither will YOU!” Hell I don’t know…I just know that baby Limpkins are NOT on the traditional menu of fellow Limpkins next to the Apple Snail salad.

Limpkins with Apple Snails

I bent over the creek near the culvert and gently flipped the baby into the cleaner water hoping it would (I’m not sure) swim somewhere safer than where it had gotten itself previously marooned into. Mistake. Apparently the small figure twisting in the water – basically drowning – was not ready to be swimming. Crap! “I have to get it back out!” I yelled as Barbara ran for something, anything. “I found a stick!” she exclaimed and grabbed it, bringing it back to me. I awkwardly fished the water-logged bird out and back where I could reach it with a sigh. “Now what!?” I said. Thinking for a moment, I settled for a shaded Cyprus tree trunk with several crinkles along its base nearer the pond. “Well, that didn’t work too well now did it?” I admitted. “Let’s leave the little guy there for now and go see some more of the bird life around here. Maybe it will be OK there,” I convinced myself as I walked away listening to it pitifully peeping.

Black-bellied whistling ducks!

There were some pretty amazing birds ahead of us on the actual pond including two pairs of a new life birds, Black-bellied whistling ducks!  They have pinkish-orange bills and are quite stunning.  We also saw White Ibis, Tri-colored Heron, Morph Mallards, Little blue Heron, Great blue Heron, Snowy Egret, and Great Egret on our short trip up and back.  We eventually arrived back at the spot where I had set the little baby Limpkin and noticed that the band of evil Limpkins were advancing on the still peeping bird.  The bird had somehow waddle-limped its way partly up the small embankment as we reached it.  "I have an idea" I said to Barbara and scooped up the fluff-ball with big feet,  Shielding the hatchling against my body, I approached the busy roadway to wait out the strings of traffic, trying to look nonchalant as I stood there ready to bolt across the pavement.

Birdstud with a baby Limpkin

When the traffic lightened enough to scoot, we did.  I explained to Barbara that I had hopes that the small "family" we had seen earlier might be on the other side of the roadway, having swam all the way across under the roadway.  As we crested the shoulder and could look into the creek, our hearts soared with anticipation when we saw the three birds swimming happily on that side of the road.  Without any fanfare, I quickly deposited the small Limpkin on the near shoreline and backed away.  It did a few somersaults and landed in the water and began peeping loudly.  Dare we hope that the other birds would embrace our offering?

We held our breath and only had to wait about 20 seconds before we knew the answer: the Limpkin family quickly swam over from the far bank to check out the small, peeping brown paddler.  Barbara and I looked at each other and I could see a tear in her eyes as she clapped her hands with joy.  It looked like the Limpkin parents would accept the new charge without exception.  Who knows?  The injured baby (and recently killed sibling) may have even been theirs only an hour before an unfortunate separation.  Regardless, the two of us stood watching the scene as the four made their way to the other side of the creek once more. 

Tense Limpkin moment

There was a tense moment as the still struggling baby could not force its way through some of the thicker muck and looked extremely weak and tired.  As we watched and waited, amazingly both parent Limpkin waded back out and used their breast to punch a trail for the baby to more easily traverse!  It was going to be fine!  We turned and slowly walked to the car feeling like we had done something important but would never know the whole truth.  About the only thing we both knew for sure, was that our actions had made a HUGE difference to that baby Limpkin, and we felt good.

The Birds of Gulf County Florida (part two)

Watch For Birds?...oh yeahhh, thanks for the friendly reminder Florida!

Florida is amazing on so many levels.  Bountifully beautiful weather, eternally sunny skies, no personal income tax and spectacular critters galore!  While I freely admit to being captively enamored with the all avian life forms of the state, I do take the time to notice the "other" living creatures along the beach.  No, not babes in bikinis, however they can be quite a distraction.  Reptiles and other scaly looking mammals are what I'm referring to for purposes of this blog.  With my camera always at the ready; I tend to snap pictures of damned near anything that interests me, making no apology with each click.  I've even been known to photograph my airline food.  Most likely because flying is such a treat for me and doing it so very seldom, I find it a huge blast when being afforded the opportunity.  I guess the true romantic in me is a bit of a "memory-keeper" and since memories occur when you least expect them to...well...

What do you know about armadillos?  I admit to not knowing much.  Due to this fact, I have provided for the both of us ( me-Birdstud and you- Dear Reader) a handy dandy LINK that should answer just about any questions you or I might have.  Interestingly enough however, one fact about them I found out I was correct about - they are generally nocturnal.  So imagine my surprise when out of the blue (literally) I encountered a good view of one in broad morning daylight!  Of course my propensity to be a shutter bug drove me to capture the images you see in this blog...why you ask?  The answer is always; I though it was cool.

Just like I thought it was cool to take a photo of the huge aligator sunning himself on the far bank of the pond on St. George's Island, Fl.  That's something you don't see everyday right?  That little Pied-billed grebe(pronounced like "feeb") in the foreground-right; better not nod off and wander into shore eh?

The island, an extremely narrow strip of white sand is a bustling tourist magnet for those folks who want to get away from "most" of it all, but have some creature comforts nearby.  There are plentiful tee shirt and hat shops on the island...YES so that makes it fine with me.  There are places to dine and feast on fresh bay oysters, and LOTS of bird life both on the beach and just a bit off shore even MORE.  One needs their super-duper strong Bushnell's to see them, however it is totally amazing to watch the Northern Gannets diving from way up high into the surf in search of an ocean meal.  These bad boys have very descriptive and etched facial markings, making them appear fierce.  They are basically built like little white fishing missles.  I watched them flying along the beach on several of the days in large flocks, not unlike White pelicans do.  Their gutteral calls in these larger groups can sound a bit like a pod of manatees...or at least what I imagine a pod of manatees would sound like, since I have not seen, nor heard a pod of manatees...come to think of it.

So that takes us to the end of another scintillating installment of Birdstud's Blog.  Have we all learned something?  I sure hope so...cause there's soooooo much TO learn each day, every moment of our lives if we keep our eyes and ears and heart open...remember to save those memories and to WATCH FOR BIRDS!

Great Blue on St. George's Island, FL

The Birds of Gulf County Florida (part one)

The Great Florida Birding Trail, Shells and Relaxation...

Spring break 2010.  Time to journey as far south as the Gulf of Mexico, as fast as possible...well, in a car anyway.  Tickets to fly the four of us round-trip would have been much too prohibitive, so I grabbed the wheel and two bottles of 5-hour Energy and off we drove.  20 hours later (non-stop other than fuel) and we had arrived - Cape San Blas, Florida.  The townhouse property we had rented was "Pristine" and so was the scenery on this white sand stretch of gulf beach.  The weather was perfect all the while we were in the great state of Denial...I mean Florida...(it was only denial until we had to pack it up and drive back to Milwaukee, but then I am way ahead of myself.)  St. Joseph's Penninsula, which the Cape is located on is a strip of sand snuggled up under the panhandle of the Sunshine State, close to St. Joe Beach.  It is about mid-way between Mexico Beach and Apalachicola and off the beaten path on highway 30A, down 30E or Cape San Blas Rd.  This was where "home" was for one week of sun, sand, and birds!

 

I took the comfort bicycle along so that I could get a bit of much-needed exercise.  The Great Florida Birding Trail had a convienient trailhead to the St. Joseph Bay State Buffer Preserve about 3.5 miles from the townhouse, so off I went pedaling away into the sunshine.  Parking my bike (and locking it up against the wooden covered bench area...hey a birder can't be too careful unless he wants to WALK home) I started to read the informational signage.  The "parking area" was deserted on this Friday morning when I began to "gear-up" for my hike.  Bugs are not really an issue at this time of Florida's year (outside of the typical evening blood-sucking no-seeum invasion), so walking the sand dune trail was quite pleasant from that angle.  First the Bushnell's were strapped on, the camo-fanny pack containing my ID books and bug-repellent affixed to my waist, and finally the Fuji Finepix was looped around one shoulder and head.  Yeah, I'm a bit nerdy looking, but who the hell cares right?  Perhaps birding is a lot about fulfilling the "goal" and not much about fashion, so if this is a sport (hobby) that you are thinking about engaging in; drop the vanity okey-dokey?

The first 3/4 of a mile along this trail was rather quiet.  Anolis carolinensis carolinensis darted across the sand between the palmetto bushes, scurrying out of my way as I passed.  The sun was beating down strongly, heating up the white sand.  I watched and listened as I walked haltingly in my stop-start birding fashion.  My vision is not what I wish it to be when it comes to spotting color and unidentifiable blobs that are not a part of the local fauna.  My "gifts" are in spotting movement and identifying auditory sound cues.  Not bad for a 48+ year old I guess, but I have always suffered from what I call "crowd blindness" meaning that when I walk into a crowd of people, hoping to spot a family member, I can stand there looking and looking, mouth hanging open, drool building, completely dumb-founded until someone take pity on me and does a little wave or something.  Meaning you can really screw with me if you want to...I can be a few yards from you in a large group and you can cruelly watch me pitifully scanning the masses over and over again for long periods of time if you so choose to...but for the love of GOD, please help me!  So, I am usually watching for "movement" as I walk, and listening for clues to which bird may be in the area.  That's what I was doing this day when I saw and heard the scramblings of something in the dry live oak leaves.

I stood still and waited.  I was treated to the bi-pedal scratchings of two Eastern Towhees as the birds made themselves known by eventually walking into the open.  The cheery "drink your teeeee" song of the male accompanied their mutual emergence from the underbrush.  Only this guy sounded a bit different than the towees I had heard in Michigan's Warren Dunes area, with a kind of "extra" note being sung prior to the "drink" portion of the song.  Interesting.  This area of the trail was totally amazing.  The many live oaks with their individual crops of sage green hanging Spanish Moss juxtaposed with the bright green of the palm treess and blue sky above was truly breathtaking.  It was here that I spied my first Black-whiskered Vireo in amongst the tree tops, gathering its breakfast in a flurry of activity.  Many Great-crested Flycatchers could be heard  belting out their unmistakable "Mreeeps!" but not seen (by my pair of eyes anyway) as I made my way to the base of the fenced-in (keep the hell away) fire observation tower.

The right fork of the trail led to an enormous concrete pier.  Unfortunately the pier was posted to stay the hell off of it as well...drat!  Apparently the Willet that had landed on the deck of the pier was unable to read?  Hmmpf.  I doubled back to the fork and went left this time, eager to see where it led.  After a few hundred yards, the trail abruptly ended at the bay side of the gulf with a big sign leaning crookedly in the sand proclaiming that people who made it this far should just leave their hands the hell off anything they encounter in the name of preservation for future ages.  A good reminder I decided.  I walked out onto the shoreline and noticed the cast away carcasses of countless enormous bone-white whelks lying in the sand.  The broken soil topography at the shoreline also revealed partially buried shells and such.  I assumed that this was what the signage was warning against; digging up the fossilized conch and whelks and other shells for souvenirs. 

I refrained from collecting my own, heeding the sign's potential for big trouble (perhaps "shelling" out big fines) if caught poaching long dead mollusks.  I took a few pictures (take only photos, leave only foot prints) and decided to do the State of Florida a favor by leaning my body into the listing sign to stand it upright and proud once more.  (Gosh I hope it wasn't supposed to be that way on purpose...)

Much More Florida to Follow...

Spring Break in the Panhandle (Part Two)

Better late than never I always say. (C'mon...I was busy, Ok?)

When we last left our intrepid travelers they had just reached the panhandular city of their destination; Panama City, FL. The next stop was to pull into the campground and set up camp for the week. St. Andrews State Park is located on a quiet tip of land just opposite the melee of the extremely "Disneyland-esque" main portion of Panama City. Opposite, in that a body of water called the Grand Lagoon separates the glitz and gaudy from the quiet and serene. Don't think me too harsh here as I'm only pointing out the dichotomy. Your "thing" just might be tuned right in to the neon, fair rides, loud music, countless tattoo parlors, trendy eateries, and hundreds of recreating college students all experimenting with a form of perceived "adult" behavior. Years ago I might have joined in the frivolity, but not now, not this time. Panama City and its even more promiscuous cousin, Panama City Beach are areas in transition. Each is attempting to carve out a lasting identity and finds itself divided somewhat between the factions that don't mind swooping in for the quick buck and the long time residents and those with vested long term interests. In spring of 2009 it was evident that the economy had laid its suffocating hand on the neck of the construction industry as many a development had stopped dead along with many a dream crushed in the process. Money was lost by the oyster bucketful as the speculation cash supply dried up. Well, as far as the Devereauxs were concerned, we would sprinkle as much of our hard-earned "stimulus money" into the local coffers as possible; doing our part. We tend to support the Mom and Pop establishments whenever we can anyway, so it was a win-win

We found our site after check-in and began setting up as per usual; Nola and I doing mostly everything. The weather was wonderfully Floridifically warm and the breezes from both the ocean and the lagoon sides kept the air moving nicely. Bugs were practically non existent for the week and the birding was fantastic! The sugar white sands of the many beaches attract tens of thousands to them each year, with a favorite spot of many; the Lagoon. Mothers can bring their small children there, protected from the wilder waves by the man-made, bouldered "jetty." Max began filming one of his famous Youtube videos patterned after his (then) favorite movie; Life Aquatic. I helped as I could while keeping an eye open for birds. Yes, Dedra...birds...those flying things honey. She spent a great deal of time on the white sand working on her tan soaking up the sun, so she was good; birds or no birds. The shelling at St. Andrews is pretty scarce so finding anything unique was particularly hard, however the quality of the small available varieties is still wonderful. One can find zillions of really cool gastropods, bi-valves, Florida cones, Olives, scallops, and the typical broken sand dollars. This year hundreds of dead sea urchins littered the waterline along with the occasional expired pufferfish. Fishermen, fisherwomen and fisherkids stood steadfast on the jetty wall staring at their lines in hopes of landing some bizzare sea creature. (Well, probably not, but that's what I would want if I was out there amongst them). Just off this side of the park, across St. Andrew Bay lies Shell Island. It's a place that I have not gone as yet and perhaps I will some day, but every time I hear about it and its desolation (no shade whatsoever) I think that I'd best be better prepared for that sort of excursion before paying the money to be marooned and toasted. if you are curious, click on the link HERE to learn more about how to get there. You'd think that there'd be better shelling on "Shell Island" but that's not what I hear, so if you want to save your money for another tee shirt or bundle of firewood, that's probably your best bet.

The waves along the ocean (gulf-side) are larger and surfers are seen attempting to make a go of it. Personally, not being a surfer myself and not playing one on TV either, but having a bit more than half a brain: I can tell you this ain't no Tamarindo, Costa Rica. It hardly looked worth all the paddling it took to get out there if you ask me...but then again the surfers probably would say the same of chasing a Loggerhead Shrike across a crowded parking lot. Night time on the beaches is a blast. We always take our high-powered spotlights along to find washed-up weirdness on the beach. Ghost crabs dash in and out of the surf and the occasional unidentified creature rolls itself up and out of the water to be discovered. The roar of the waves in the pitch black is slightly unsettling and wildly exciting too. Try it the next time you are camping near the ocean...it's exhilarating...your kids will go nuts too.

So, I'm getting around to the birding part of this blog entry now, so thanks for sticking with me. It must be said straight away that of the 65 species I recorded while in the Panama City area, I picked up just 3 new life birds for my lifelist; Black Skimmer, the Eurasian Collared Dove and the magnificent Summer Tanager. Gulls were by far the most prevailant species in the area with egrets a close second as many were in breeding plumage and nesting nearby in specialized island colonies on inland waters. There was this one (idiot) guy who decided that he was such an amazing wildlife photographer that he parked his giant pickup on the side of the road, got out all his expensive camera gear, rolled up his pant legs (not sure why he bothered) and waded out into potentially alligator-infested waters up to his armpits within a good spit of the protected nesting Great Egrets to get a "better shot." He must have had some sort of Marlin Perkins complex to be sure. I took photos of him while I bitched (to absolutely no one nearby) as to what a moron I felt he was...grrrrr...but I felt better anyway. I went back to the campsite to watch the deadfall behind the camper for a while. It had become a bit of a mecca for several interesting species of ground-feeding birds since I "seeded" the area just a bit with Kaytee. Brown Thrashers, Northern Cardinals, Bluejays, red-Bellied Woodpeckers and the cutest pair of eastern Towhees hopped and skipped amongst each other pecking at my free-will offering. The most interesting bird to visit was the Red-headed Woodpecker. It would take a sunflower seed and wedge it into a crevice of the deadfall before pounding it into submission in search of the soft inner flesh.

One of the more spectacular sightings was a small tree full of Rose-breasted Grosbeaks that had decided to take a break near the boat landing. They dotted the branches with their crimson black and white feathers like ornaments. Each afternoon when the fishermen would come back to the landing, the Brown Pelicans would greet them. Their are signs clearly posting that it is not a good idea to feed them, however as we all know; signs be damned...that's for other people to read. At least their persistant mealtime begging and squawking was a good opportunity for a photo or two. Northern Mockingbirds could be heard and seen in multiple locations. They are the south's version of robins. Plus, while the Blue Grosbeak sighting was not my first, I was able to take a better photo this time and felt privileged to do so. As a matter of fact, even though my digital camera is not a "pro" model, I still highly enjoy taking images of birds...LOTS of them...just ask my family.

Then there was the hunt for the elusive alligator. It seemed that the majority of casual vacationer was far more interested in spotting a reptile than would ever get a kick out of a Great Blue Heron. I would be sitting on my bike seat on the side of the road staring through the brush at a Little Green and a car would stop to ask me if it was an alligator I was looking at. When I turned to tell them no it was a such and such bird, they would drive away before I could get it out of my mouth. Pity...they missed the unappreciated beauty and splendor of the Boat-tailed Grackle for peetey-sake. Sure I saw the stupid alligator...even got a snap-shot of 'em too, but c'mon...you seen one, you seen 'em all right? I even tried crabbing. Nola and I tied some chum-flavored chicken parts onto the floor of two Internet-purchased cages and sat them on the bottom of the bay at night. The only large crabs we caught were Spider crabs. Arguably, thee most hideous looking creatures God ever laughingly decided to place upon this earth. But creepingly weird enough to pick up with your bare hands. Watch it however, they are sharp little buggers with their armored-spiky shells

So the moral of this two-part story is: Go Camping. Plain and simple eh? You truly need to get outdoors and "rough it" a bit, turning off the TV and walking in the bushes for a hike to get the feel of really living. If you try it and don't necessarily like it, fine; you'll at least know what you are missing when you open up the mini-fridge for a San Pelegrino before you step into the hot tub...the rest of us will be just fine out there...catching real crabs. See ya' later alligator!

PS: When in Panama City, try Capt. Anderson's and Billy's Oyster Bar...you'll thank me.

Spring Break in the Panhandle (part one)

There’s nothing more satisfyingly recharging for a northerner, than to reverse migrate in the early spring. Leaving the frozen tundra of the upper Midwest for the milder, sunnier climes of the south, if even for a week, can drive out the long winter chill from your body faster than a frozen penguin on a tanning bed. That’s why, with extreme anticipation, the family and I set out for Panama City just ahead of Easter 2009. We’re campers by nature (and fiscal leaning) so the days of preparation specific to making that happen, are akin to readying the famed Lewis and Clark expedition. In the “old days” BK (before kids) my wife and I could throw a few things in a common suitcase, pack the nylon tent and chairs into the trunk, making sure to bring along a good novel or two, and off we would trundle. Not anymore. “Dad, can the power inverter handle both the DVD player AND the X-Box 360?” and “I know I have a lot of clothes and shoes, but that’s OK, there may be some cute boys…” are common questions and statements from today’s teen-travelers. Gone are the simpler days of butterfly nets and Golden books that used to entertain them for countless hours. Here now are electronic everythings, designed to fill every waking (and sleeping with your IPod earbuds in) hour from sun-up to sun-down. But it could be much worse I guess; they could have declined to go along at all. So I count my blessings as I peek under the Honda Odyssey’s undercarriage, brow furrowing, trying to gauge the narrowing distance to the road surface. Our ultimate destination lay 1100 miles ahead but the tank was full of $ 2.05/gal gas (instead of last spring’s $3.59). The oil and filter were both freshly changed; the washer fluid reservoir filled, ample snacks and hot coffee for the passengers gave every indication that we were READY. Just one more trip back to the locked house as we attempt to leave the driveway, one more quick potty stop before we turn determinedly southward, gleefully leaving Milwaukee in the rearview mirror.

“Remember those days when driving around Chicago were as tedious as giving birth to a piano bench?” I remarked to my sleeping wife. “God bless the inventors of IPASS open road tolling,” I muse as the van breezes along the freeway bypass underneath the overhead scanners. Debit, debit, debit my butt off, you State of Illinois you; at least I don’t have to stop in your flat, Bear-loving, excuse of a state…ahem,…sorry.

The overnight at the Columbus, Indiana Days Inn was a welcome respite after pounding down the highway in the darkness. Those flip-over, make-em’ yourself, Belgian waffles at the complimentary breakfast bar make a great eye-opener too. Next stop would be Pelham, Alabama and the Oak Mountain State Park some 450 miles down the road. We finally arrived at around 6 PM after some pretty scary moments dodging tornadoes in Tennessee and big hail in Kentucky. I had just completed the ringmaster duties (sans red suit and cane) related to the circus of Jayco camper set-up, when I noticed the Purple Martin gourd colony in the turn-around near the lake. The sun was just starting to think about evening retirement so the birds had mostly taken their places in the nest openings. The greater Milwaukee area has a consortium of birding enthusiasts who are actively working towards increasing the likelihood that martins will find the area to their liking. HERE is a link to their Blog, outlining their commendable efforts. A curious southern drawl caught my ear and I turned my head towards the sound. Waddling slowly from a canvas compound set back in the woods ahead of me, ambled an enormous, t-shirt-bellied, NASCAR hat sporting, 100% pure, Alabaman specimen. He was yelling back over at his shoulder to a sleight, mouse brown-haired waif of a woman in sandals, that “you ain’t gonna’ touch my beer, you know? I’ll be back and I wanna’ see it all still there!” A White-throated Sparrow began singing its warbled song as the man approached a beat-to-death, rust brown Chevy Cavalier and pried open the driver’s door. I know my mouth was hanging slightly open as I witnessed the man turn his body, massive butt first into the now open car door, and proceed to wiggle back and forth as he levered his oil-stained, jeans-covered fanny into the void. “Now that’s something you don’t see everyday.” I thought as I couldn’t tear my eyes from the unbelievable scene. Like a front-end loader dumping a boulder into a baby buggy, the man eventually settled his largess onto the godforsaken front seat of the Chevy, then started working on swinging his tree-stump legs around into the driver’s well. I had seen enough of the logistical nightmare for one day, so I backed away from the slow-motion train wreck, to look for more birds.

The next day, some early morning birding yielded some nice sightings. The list of 30 compiled while there, is as follows: Great-crested Flycatcher, Ovenbird, White-throated Sparrow, Northern Cardinal, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Hairy Woodpecker, Red-bellied Woodpecker, Eastern Towhee, Eastern Phoebe, Eastern Towhee, Chipping Sparrow, American Robin, Northern Mockingbird, Whip-poor-will, American Crow, Tufted Titmouse, Brown Thrasher, Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Purple Martin, Chimney Swift, Yellow-rumped Warbler, Black-capped Chickadee, White-breasted Nuthatch, Carolina Wren, Eastern Bluebird, Blue Jay, Canada Goose, Cedar Waxwing, Red-eyed Vireo, Red-headed Woodpecker, and Brown-headed Cowbird. After we ate, we all packed up the site and headed for the highway once more.

You know how it is when you are on your way “to” your destination VS coming back “from” it? Well, the next 6 hours in the car flew by as the temperatures rose outside according to the proximity to the Gulf of Mexico. Sorties of Brown Pelicans could be seen soaring high in the sky from out of the car windows, as the swaying pine tree boughs slowly gave way to the bristling palm fronds. Paradise at last, was in reach. The cities of Panama City and Panama City Beach are located along the gulf between Pensacola on the west and Tallahassee on the east.

NOTE: Stay tuned to this blog for the second installment of Spring Break in the Panhandle…