Being Shy

  At the break of dawn, Mark and I headed to the pier.  Before we got there, Mark suddenly whispered for me to get the camera ready as there "was a bird".  He had spied the little rail out on the mudflats and knew that I would want to photograph her.  Try as I might, I could not get a clear shot of her so we ventured on our way.  The bird scooted under the pier to avoid any close contact with us.  I thought this was a bit strange because never before has she been leery of my presence.  Since the pier was quite frosty and slippery, I opted to stay near the mudflats while Mark made the walk to the end of the pier.  As soon as he was out of sight, the sweet rail came back out from her hiding spot.  Ahh, that was more like it!

  This small bird has been a friend since she was a tiny fledgling.  Her mama brought the brood out for a "meet and greet" when they were just chicks.  This one decided that she sort of liked me and hung around even after her siblings left to find their own territories.  We meet daily...she on the mudflats...me on the pier.  I talk with her while she hunts for breakfast.  This morning was much the same.  She was carefully picking up the tiny killifish and baby blue crabs.  I told her how pretty she looked and even apologized for the red Solo cup that washed in on high tide.  

  All was good until the rail heard Mark's footsteps coming back from the end of the pier.  She lifted her head high, listened then darted back into the marsh.  She was having no part of any intruder!  The unusual actions earlier had now been explained.  The little rail was accustomed to my presence but still had a healthy fear of other humans.  Although Mark would never hurt her, she has no idea who he is so she plays it safe by hiding. 

  We left the little one to her breakfast search after I made a promise to rig a longer handle on my net so I could rid her buffet table of the wayward cup.  The sweet bird does not need trash in her dining room!

Just A Little Bird Friend

  As I have often stated, daybreak is probably my favorite time of the day.  It is then that I can sneak down to the pier to watch the sunrise in peace and do a bit of meditation before the hubbub of the day begins.  The old dog (Mr. PJ) and I sit in silence as the world around us begins to stir.  More oft than not, we find ourselves the audience of any number of spectacular critter visits.  These visits make our time on the pier even more special.

  The other morning, the tide was low making for a feeding frenzy for many shore critters.  Tiny shrimp were hovering in the shallows and some had even become trapped in small divots in the mud.  One fine critter to visit just a few feet from our sitting spot was a small rail. She was so busy in snatching up the tiny shrimp that she never noticed that a dog and human were so close.  Not that it mattered as neither the old dog nor I had any interest in harming the bird.  Even after Mr. PJ sneezed, she continued with her breakfast.  

  The rails often come out of the marsh to visit.  The birds have become special friends of ours and will even bring their little ones out to scamper the mudflats while we are watching.  Our nigh on daily sunrise trips to the pier have caused the rails (and many other critters) to lose their fear of us.  They seem to understand that our presence is not a threat.  This is just another positive part of sharing the Bayou with so many critter friends.

Don't Get Your Little Red Feet Muddy!

  The young Mourning Dove that has decided that I am a friend rather than foe, has me a bit bewildered.  While the bird can be found near the feeders most of the time, occasionally it seeks out some confusing shelters.  Although it is not unusual to find birds flitting about the marsh at any given time, finding a dove nestled down beneath an uprooted Groundsel Bush makes me scratch my head. With all of the dangers lurking in the marsh and especially up under the twisted roots and mud, it seems to me that this little dove is just asking for trouble.  What was equally strange was the fact that I spent a good ten minutes trying to talk some sense into the bird's head.  It did not work.

  This morning, I found the bird in the same spot.  The tide had come in and was lapping dangerously close to the bird's little red feet.  Still, the dove had no inclination of leaving its resting spot.  Well, now, Dovey....you really should rethink this situation!  If the tide comes in much more, you will be forced to become a duck!  The bird stayed.  It sat there blinking at me with its pretty, dark eyes.

  I wandered up the hillside deep in thought as to why the little dove has decided to become a marsh bird.  Normally, one thinks of herons, egrets and rails as marsh birds.  Red-winged Blackbirds and even Marsh Wrens can call the place home but I have never seen a Mourning Dove have the desire to live in the mud.  Hmmm?  I pondered if the bird was ill.  I kept pondering as I filled the feeders.  Surely the little one would come to eat! I turned and, to my surprise, almost stepped on my little friend.  Well, goodness!  I am glad to see you back up here where you belong!