Shhhhhh. Quickly. Quietly. Come with me. Around the trees.
Tippy-toe through the wooded area as the sun sets fondly in the west, as he has the habit of doing around here on a daily basis. We are going down near the pond.
If you do not make one fallen twig *SNAP* with your properly placed, water-proof boots you will see the Wilds of Florida.
Look. Here. What did I tell you?
Can you see them gathered there along the pond chowing down on a late evening snack of wee water creatures? The fancy, roseate spoonbills are jam-up and jelly-tight with the plain-Jane ibis.
Such is the way on the communal watering-hole here in the Wilds of Florida.
Birdy bellies are full and round. Eyes are sleepy with well-earned contentment.
Flashy silver minnows have gone missing, never to be seen again, while certain water bugs and beetles will never swim another day. Gone missing they are into birdy bellies.
Life is an eat or be eaten fly-in restaurant here in the Wilds of Florida.
The golden-pinky glow in the sky is the 3 minute warning.
"Take note all! The sun is sinking!" the sky shouts with her flagrant show of Technicolor. So mindful of her time-keeping responsibilities, she is.
"Grab your last bite. Slurp your last drink," the sun chimes in, giving his last call.
Time for all God's creatures to hunker down for sleep in the Wilds of Florida.
Certain friendships must be put aside at the end of the day. Love can only step across acceptable lines. Often birds that feed together do not sleep together.
Some relationships are just not meant to be.
Nature rules with her consistent hand here in the Wilds of Florida.
Tonight grand-daddy heron reminds others of the time.
"Get along home, you young and yawning whipper-snappers," he says, tucking his neck down one more time before taking a final flight and heading on back to his own night-place.
Really, you cannot fool a single one of these guys. Everyday is the same. There is no long holiday week-end here, no time off from regular birding behavior in the Wilds of Florida.
Shhhhhh. Be still and watch.
The shadows are growing longer and longer. When the party is over, the party is over. Day is done, gone the sun, that kind of thing.
Everyone knows you cannot safely hang around here on the ground throughout the long night time darkness.
You nestle down here, take an overnight snooze and come morning you will have disappeared into the tummy of a sneaky, pawed or clawed one. {{ Or maybe end up as a bit of fashion. }}
Midnight critters wander hungry here in the Wilds of Florida.
Up the spoonbills fly into the wiry tree tops. They move so fast your eyes see only pink.
They know, these ones. A red-eyed gator can not get you here. A prowling wild cat will not stalk you here. Life is good when you sit on top of the watery world and look down.
Shhhhhh. Look quickly. Can you see? Do you see that gentle, somewhat smug smiles?
Roseate dreams wait for roseate birds here in the Wilds of Florida.
There he is. What did I tell you? Tucked in. Ready to snooze. Grand-daddy heron with his pointy, pointy bill resting, his bird-brain dreaming its own feathery fantasies.
Just so you will know: Herons fly with there necks folded back onto their shoulders while cranes fly with their necks extended.
Oh, dear, maybe it is the other way around. Sometime I get a bit confused about the Wilds in Florida.
Snake-bird. Water turkey. Anhinga. Whatever. An oily black-bird and sneaky-Pete-like.
He swims low in the water, cheating really, when he looks for food. I mean really! How many fish can fly away from his prying bill?
Yes, head popping out of the water he looks all the world like a snake. He is my least favorite one of all but still I like to watch when he dries his wings. Outspread on a river bank the anhinga patiently does his penance until his wings are totally dry.
When his wings are wet he is at the mercy of all the lunching prowlers. When his wings are wet he cannot fly one little bit. When his wings are wet I have compassion for this slithery one trapped by his own devices. I do. Have compassion.
Each bird seems to have her own strength and weakness. If you watch long enough you can learn it, too. Such is life in the Wilds of Florida.
Good evening, my pink sweeties. Sleep tight. Good night. Keep smiling on until morning sun.
Tomorrow is another day over there in the Wilds of Florida.
Hope you enjoyed your trip with me into the wilderness of my state. You were so brave and tippy-toed perfectly! Not one single solitary spoonbill headed for the hills.
Now, stay on the sidewalk as we walk back to the jeep over there in the parking lot.
Then, come with me, why don't you, to Barnes & Noble which is located right across from this pond near Flagler Hospital where a person could buy a new knee if he needed to do so or, maybe, have a kidney stone monitored.
While the birds cling tight to skinny tree branches and dream of flying in V-shaped formations we can share a snack and look at Artful Blogging Magazine. The perfect ending to a wildlife adventure in Florida!
In the meantime. Shhhhhh. Quickly. Quietly.
Please, do not wake one single ibis.
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