Brrrr and Gone

Wednesday , it was 47° when I went for my jog. I wore tights with shorts over, 2 long sleeved shirts, wool socks with my sneakers, watch cap, fingerless gloves (definitely going to try others), and a handkerchief around my neck. I figured if someone visiting from Chicago saw me, she’d laugh. Hey, I’m from south Florida.

By today, Saturday, the temp was back up to 73°, and I was back to wearing just shorts and a short sleeved shirt. 

The warming weather was a plus when Patten and I tromped out in the Saint John National Wildlife Refuge looking for black rails in a North Shore Birding Festival trip Thursday evening. The guide and black rail supreme expert,  Mike Legare, told everyone to wear knee boots which I don’t have. I also know I’m not going to die of hypothermia in Central Florida, and I figured my chance of snake bite was pretty low if I wasn’t at the front of the line. 

After being trucked in a 1/4 mile, then walking/slogging cross-country through waist-high grass in ankle deep water, we got to a clearing about 5:10. We were to stand quietly until Mike played a black rail call at 5:25, to which the black rails would answer. All good until the part about the birds answering. Nope, nada, none. He tried again, ditto response. We, oh, so quietly trod to another clearing. Again, the birds were non-cooperative. Finally, a third spot, and people said they heard.

Patten, with his great ears, heard both or perhaps three black rails. I tuned into my tintinitus. Mike was distressed. Usually these extremely elusive fist-sized rails would call back in a loud voice , “ki-ki-KEER”. Way disproportionate to their size. They had yesterday when he’d checked the site. I snickered to myself. Isn’t that always the case with fish and birds?

Not to be skunked, Mike tried one more spot. And I heard one. Not the quiet “ki-ki” but the booming “KERR” at the end. Mission accomplished. 

It took quite a lot of rinsing to get all of the mud out of our socks. Our boots are still drying out from being soaked then rinsed. But Patten and I can both claim “heard black rail” on our life lists, if we kept them.

The next morning, we got up at o’dark hundred to put Patten on the big bird, Frontier Airlines, to New Orleans, where he is picking up a company truck and driving their boat show exhibit back to Fort Lauderdale. Grant and I goofed around until it was time for our raptor trip at McDonald Canal with Alex, our guide from our Maine trip summer a year ago. Dinner was at Camp Wekiva, with keynote address by Kevin, owner of Wildside Nature Tours, via Zoom, about the Galapagos, where he has been 48 times. They are generously offering $1000 of tours to the islands this year and next. Tempting.