My Life’s Birds: #211-214

June 12, 1994 – Corkscrew Swamp and “Ding” Darling NWR, Fl – The second time you return to a particularly good birding location is different than the first in a few crucial ways. Sadly, you often miss the sense of wonder that goes along with that first foray into something new. One’s first time can never really be replaced, but in its place comes a focus only experience can bring. You know what you saw, it was incredible. But you know also what you missed, and you don’t want to miss it again.

That was kind of the mentality I brought to our second trip in as many years to Florida, that birding mecca that eventually calls to so many of us. Our first trip was defined by not knowing, and in many ways that birds we saw were stumbled across and thus subject to the simple thrill of discovering something you never really knew existed. This time, we had a Lane guide and a plan, and on the first full day in Florida that plan involved Corkscrew Swamp, an Audubon run facility with a reputation for Wood Storks. But summer Wood Storks are harder to come by that we realized, and even though we found my life Pine Warbler, we came away somewhat disappointed.

That’s the flip side of experience. When you know what to look for, you know what you miss.

On our yearly sojourn to Ding Darling however, we did better. The waders were there, of course, but so was one of Florida’s booming population of Bald Eagles. It was a proud moment for this American, to finally put eyes to the bird I was only familiar with in coin form. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t spotted one of these earlier, but there it was, bigger than life. Add to it the ever-present powerline loving Gray Kingbirds, another bird missed the year before in sheer ignorance rather than lack of interest. When every big flashy wader is new, the subtle gray bird is missed, no matter how loudly it calls.

But lack of knowledge still has its place. My mom was a patient passenger on these bird sojourns, knowing that time spent in the refuge was time that would be paid back on the beach. And while stopped on he wildlife drive, my dad and I out of the car trying (and failing) to find the source of a particular thin buzzy song, my mom, on our return to the car, told us about a really pretty little yellow bird that had landed on the side mirror next to her, gazed at its reflection for a second, and took off into the mangroves. Did we, she asked, know what it was?

We jumped out of the car in a flash and looked at the mangroves she had pointed at to find a male Prairie Warbler singing its heart out. Experience, it seems, isn’t a replacement for luck.

photos from wikipedia