A Blue Bird that Brought Happiness

When I spotted a bit of bright blue along the edge of a Brazoria County mudflat, newly filled with water from recent rains, my first thought was, “I wish people would stop dumping their trash.” Then I glanced back, and realized that the bit of blue wasn’t plastic; it was joined to eyes, a body, and legs.

I’d never seen anything like it and, to be quite honest, I’m not sure I could have imagined it. But there it was: a tricolored heron (Egretta tricolor) in full breeding plumage. For most of the year, it’s feathers are a subtle mix of blue-gray, lavender, maroon, and white, but in breeding season, it develops a bright blue bill with a black tip, cobalt blue lores (the area surrounding the eye), bright red eyes, and white head plumes. Most descriptions mention pink legs as well; these don’t seem particularly pink, but the color transformations might not have been complete.

For a few minutes it remained partly visible, stalking its way down the flat amid the grasses. I suspect some lady tricolored heron already has joined me  in noticing and appreciating its fine appearance.

 

Comments always are welcome.

It’s the Early Bird, With Its Catch

This Great Egret (Ardea alba) probably wouldn’t have rejected the proverbial early bird’s worm as a snack, but it was morning at Brazos Bend, and time to search for something a little more substantial.

After scanning the skies for several minutes, the egret began scrutinizing the surrounding water with that wonderful intensity common to wading birds.

Predictably, its strike was fast and unpredictable: so much so that I nearly missed it.  Egrets prefer fish, but within the thick foliage a frog, snake, crawfish, or shrimp might have been its target.

Given the strength of its bill and the speed of its attack, the bird’s success was understandable, although the prey it pulled from the water wasn’t easy to identify.

No matter. The bird seemed pleased with its catch, and I was more than pleased to have caught its image in the early morning light.

 

Comments always are welcome.

The Sign of the Butcher Bird

In early February, I happened upon a bird known as the Loggerhead Shrike (Lanius ludovicianus) sitting atop a windmill at the Brazoria Wildflife Refuge, scanning the land below for a tasty snack.

It intrigued me to learn that, although part of songbird family, shrikes behave more like raptors. Certain of their habits have earned them the nickname ‘Butcher Bird,’ and I included this brief description of their odd but effective practice in my post:

A sharp, falcon-like hook in their beak allows Shrikes to attack and capture prey, but they lack the talons and strong feet of hawks and owls. Unable to hold their prey while eating, as raptors do, Shrikes carry their meal to a thorn bush, cactus, or barbed wire fence, where they impale it in order to dine at leisure, or store it for later consumption. 

Had I found this beetle impaled on a barbed wire fence in late January, I never would have imagined it had been left there by a ‘butcher bird.’ Now, it seems reasonable to think that a Shrike had experienced a successful hunt and, true to its nature, had stored its prize on the fence surrounding a field of bluebonnets.

I passed by the same fence two days later, and the beetle was gone. I hope it wasn’t stolen from the bird who left it there.

 

Comments always are welcome.