The Elusive Bag Bird!

   It is no lie that as you age, things change.  You are on that downhill slide with health issues and an upswing on attitude adjustments.  As the body starts failing, you just give up fretting on pleasing others and you go about with a new outlook that says "Hey, I am going to enjoy life!"  It has reached that point with me.  Things are different, for sure!  One of the problems that I have encountered is the failing eyesight.  Not that it is too bad, I am still just wearing reading glasses but I find that sometimes the wee bit of a blur in the distance can be a bit disconcerting.  My brain tells me what I see is something far different than what it is!  This can be fun...sometimes.

  I recall several years ago, my aunt told me about a group of birders that would often encounter such problems.  She would go with a group of similarly aged folks (mid-70s) and they would often all agree on the identity of a bird only to find that they were mistaken.  Occasionally, the "bird" was not a bird, at all!  A bent tree limb, a tin can or a piece of paper would throw them for a loop!  The folks in the group were all good natured and would get a good belly laugh out of their mistaken identity.  I giggled when she told me the story.

  Well, I giggled yet again this morning.  It happened.  While on the pier, I turned to see a lovely white bird taking flight from the shoreline.  Swinging the camera into position, I fully expected to get a photograph of our resident egret.  Nope.  That "bird" is still in the same flight position this evening.  What I saw in the predawn light was not a bird at all but rather a plastic bag that had blown in with Hurricane Zeta.  I had not seen the bag before since there was no way to get on the pier.  This morning, I edged my way on the temporary boards that Son is using to make repairs and I saw my prize...the elusive Plastic Bag Bird. The memory of the story from my aunt brought peels of laughter and a good feeling.  I miss her.  She and I got along famously.

  Even with the body aging and things starting to get a bit rickety, I am bound and determine to carry on living with as much gusto as possible.  Now that the kids are all grown, it is my time to kick back and do things my way.  It matters not if I see plastic bag birds or stumble upon some migratory rarity, I figure to be out there living.  Make the time for yourself, folks.  Life is far too short to always fret over what others may think.  Have a bit of fun doing whatever floats your boat!  Oh, eventually, the egret did make an appearance so I figured my outing was all worth while.

  

White Ibises Visit The Bayou!

  Today saw the Bayou being pounded by more storms.  Winds were gusting pretty stiffly and at times the rains were torrential.   All of this storming made for high tides and slippery slopes but, by late afternoon, the skies cleared enough for Mark and I to take a quick walk about the place.  Of course, the first place we always go to is the pier.  It was on the way back toward the shore end that Mark pointed out a large flock of birds overhead.  Looking up, my first thought was egrets but it confused me to see so many flocking together.  Then, I caught a glimpse of the bills of the birds.  Ibises!  Those are ibises!  I was not quick enough to get more than one pretty shabby photograph of the birds before they headed west.  While that was disappointing, the fact that we actually saw this many of the birds made my day.

  The White Ibis is usually found more around fresh water lakes and ponds than salt or brackish water.  There, it will visit the mudflats in search of mud worms, crustaceans and insects.  The ibis has a long, curved bill that it uses to probe the soft mud.  When it senses something, the bill snaps shut and the prey is pulled from the mud.  If it is too muddy, the bird will then go to clear water to wash its supper.  It will also declaw crabs and crawfish and crush their shells before eating them.  

  It has been a long time since I have seen any ibises.  My aunt (actually my mom's cousin) was an avid birder and she often let me tag along on her excursions.  We would search for any bird and Fairie Lyn would quickly and accurately identify it for me.  I learned a lot about birds from this lady!  In her later years, she depended on me to take her birding...which I gladly did as often as I could.  We had fun!  I remember how excited she was on one outing when we came upon dozens of the White Ibises.  She started pointing out the identifying factors of the birds and gave me a brief history of their lives.  This afternoon, I thanked my long-gone auntie for teaching me to appreciate the beauty of birds.  Fairie Lyn, your love of birds lives on through me.

Just Enough To Make Me Think

  It is really odd how a vision, sound or smell can trigger a memory from long ago.  Perhaps this occurs more often now that I am aging as I do not remember it ever happening in my youth.  Age does strange things to, not only the body, but also the mind.  I find myself dwelling on things I learned in the past then promptly forgot.  Maybe forgot is the wrong word since these tidbits of information come flooding back at any prompted notice.  The more accurate description could be that the data was pushed far in the cobwebbed coated corners of the brain.  (At this point, think of that dusty old box in the back of the attic where no one dares go because it may be haunted!)  Anyway, those bits of information, memories or subdued emotions all come flooding back with the least bit of provocation when you get to be my age.

  This afternoon, I was happily puttering around in the garden plot minding my own business when thoughts started interfering with my work.  A lovely squadron of white pelicans gracefully glided overhead causing all chores to come to a complete halt.  Into the brain popped thoughts of Fairie Lyn.  This lady was Mom's cousin and was probably one of the smartest folks I have ever had the privilege to know.  Over the years, she tried her best to instill some of that knowledge in my brain but, for the life of me, I cannot find it.  Among the many things that she did in her life, one of her favorite pastimes was birding.  She knew just about any type bird out there, could recognize it by flight pattern, could mimic most calls and could spout of the life history of the bird.  While I was still a youngster, she took me on several outings with her "bird group".  To be honest, it annoyed me.  As a kid, all I could see was a bunch of "old people" with binoculars stuck to their faces while they murmured things like "Ahh! There is a yellow-billed cuckoo!  This is such an exciting day!" or "My goodness!  There are TWO common loons!!"  Yeah, well people, you are all a tad cuckoo and act like a bunch of loons! was all that I could think.  I wanted to romp around on the sand dunes when we went to the island.  I wanted to swing on the vines when we were walking the creek beds.  I wanted to be a kid and not be hushed or told to be still as I would scare the birds.  Phooey on birding!

  Things change.  As I aged into an adult, I cherished the time spent with Fairie Lyn.  She and I went birding.  We went to concerts.  We went to the ballet.  I found she was just as quirky as I am.  We tangled at times but it never changed our relationship.  As she said, "We are true partners in crime!"  I never retained all of the information she tried to push at me but, at times, tiny bits worm their way into the forefront of the brain chamber.  Those thoughts haunt me just enough to make me research what she was trying to tell me for free.  A few of the things come in loud and clear.  Like the identities of the white pelicans.  I knew it was them simply by the black wing bars that show only when they are in flight.  I knew that they do not dive like the brown pelicans.  I knew that these birds will only be here on the Bayou for a short time during the winter.  All of these things were "Fairie Lyn" identifying facts.  I believe that my intense love of the birds of the Bayou (whether year long friends or migratory ones) is all due to my early experiences with Fairie Lyn.  

  Speaking of this dear lady (rest her soul), I always loved her name.  Fairie Lyn!  What a perfectly magical name to give a baby girl!  And to think...she had an older sister named Fern!  Yep, my great aunt really knew what she was doing when she named those two!  I do wish Fairie Lyn would have been here today to see the pelicans gliding overhead.  I bet she could have filled me in with a lot more information about the birds.