Unidentified Wren...

Happy April Fool's day! May the force be with you. 

Kylo Ren - 'Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker'   |   Walt Disney Studios

Hairyette

I bought a statue for my yard but I thought it needed some fancying up. Click to enlarge photos.

Before

After

Friends said she needed accessories so I
made her binoculars and a little, tiny copy of
The Shorebird Guide.

Detail of The Shorebird Guide

Critter Porn!

Due to popular request, I have finally reinstated my Critter Porn page. Enjoy!

New! July 9, 2018 - Gulf Fritillaries bumping uglies.

New! July 9, 2018 - Variegated Fritillaries getting it on. I swear the one
on the bottom is showing her "O" face.

February 27,  2017 So, these 2 Mallards were getting down in Easy Street park....

February 27,  2017 ...when this other Mallard came by and wanted to get in on the action... oh my. I never thought about how ducks mate, but I certainly didn't expect them to have HUGE tackle like this. At least we now know why it's called "Easy Street Park"

March 6, 2016: Great Egrets gettin' jiggy!

Lubbers in Love

Yellow-bellied Sliders having a 9-way

Red-bellied Woodpeckers getting down

Technically, mushrooms aren't critters, but this really looked like porn to me.

Cuban Anoles, doin' the nasty right out in public.

Viceroy Butterflies, grooving

Sealion orgy

Birds do it, bees do it, other bugs might as well too.

Gulf Frittilary Butterfies getting as passionate as butterflies get. 

Rare Bird Alert!!!

I saw what I thought at first was a Belted Kingfisher on my feeder. Then I realized that the color and size were totally wrong. I'm pretty sure that it's a type of Roller bird. Can anyone confirm the species?

Coffee of the Damned

This is a true story. If you are squeamish, just read this part: If you live in Florida, always make a cup of hot water with your coffee maker before you make a cup of coffee. Coffee can hide things.

So, have you ever had a day that goes from Disney to Stephen King in 30 seconds flat? I'm sitting on the porch with NummyMuffinCoocolButter, and I say to myself, "Self, a big old cuppa coffee is the only that could make this moment better." So I go inside and start to make some coffee. Just as I am pouring the water into the coffee maker, I see an ant, but it's too late, I was already pouring. No problem I say,  I'll just run a cup of plain water through to wash the ant out.

So I run a cup of hot water through... and out of the coffee maker into my mug comes not only the ant, but the dead ant, about 30 of his closest friends, and a small roach. I screamed. I ran a second cup of water through to make sure they were all gone. Another 30 dead ants in the second cup. I said, ok, this needs serious cleaning. I ran a cup of vinegar through. Another 30 dead ants. Another cup of water. Another 30 dead ants. I did this about 6 more times, when I finally just unplugged the coffee maker, carried it over to the sink, and completely filled the resevoir, thinking this would wash out whatever was left in there.

I was wrong. I ran another cup of water, and this time there was only about 10 dead ants. I literally ran about 10 more cups of water through, and each time there were still dead ants coming out. So, I took it back to the sink, and tried rinsing out the resevoir again. I dried it as much as I could and took off the bottom. Another dead roach, roach droppings, and more dead ants. I washed what I could, dried it all out, and tried running another cup. There was only 1 or 2 dead ants this time. But I was not feeling secure at all. I waited about 10 minutes, went and did some chores, and ran another cup of water through. Another 10 dead ants.

At this time I said forget this, I am never using a coffee maker* again. I went on line to get instructions how to make coffee without a coffee maker, went down to Publix and got a strainer and some filters. I got home, only to find that the power was out, so I couldn't even boil the water. So now, I'm just despondent. I sat on the porch eating cold crab stuffed mushrooms until the power came back on. Then I found my old-fashioned tea kettle and made me some coffee. It took a tad longer than the coffee maker, but at least I was confident there were no ants in it, and it actually tastes really good.

Disclaimer: I specifically am not mentioning the brand of coffee maker here because I realized that this can happen with any coffee maker - there are parts you can't see and hence can't really clean on any brand.

Poems Only The Truly Fat Will Understand

Recently a friend suggested that I try doing some live performing, a poetry reading. And, coincidentally, I've been feeling melancholy which tends to make me write poetry. It's been a while since I have shared my deepest innermost thoughts here, but I'm among friends, I think I can share. Here is the beginning of my latest work. It is is suite of poems. I call it:

Poems Only The Truly Fat Will Understand

I
I wish my head was the size
of a matchbox car
So I could lick the bottom
of the Nutella jar.

II
Nutella tastes good,
Worth the price that I paid
But the color makes it
A bad marital aid.

The Shaft

(Copyright 1995, 2012 Dee Fairbanks Simpson - From unpublished manuscript, "Confessions of a Fat Starving Artist")

Elevators

have two doors

to keep you

from falling

seventeen floors,

but if I fall

and crack my head

shattered body,

broken, dead,

bits and pieces

toffee bar

like the muskrat

‘neath my car

my body twisted,

a purple hue,

it couldn’t feel worse

than loving you.

Sins of the Mockingbird

(Copyright 2012, Dee Fairbanks Simpson, unpublished short fiction)

Octavius Mimus was born in early autumn when the fall migration was just starting. From the day he was born, the sound of birds outside his nursery filled his ears and calmed his heart. As soon as he could walk, he would go to the window and stare out for hours at the birds fluttering from tree to tree.

As he grew, he learned, seemingly by instinct, the names of the birds. When he was old enough to choose his own bedtime stories, he made his father read to him from Peterson's Field Guide.

"Come on, now Octavius," his father would say. "Wouldn't you rather hear about Peter Rabbit? Or the Wizard of Oz?" And as always, Octavius would cry until his father relented and began reading from the Peterson Guide.

"Cardinal: A red..." and Octavius would finally drop off to sleep dreaming of, seeing, and knowing every bird in the world.

He started keeping a life list as soon as he could write. His parents were not birders, but they frequently spoke of the cardinals and blue jays and mockingbirds that they saw, attempting to relate to their son in the only way they knew how.

"No," Octavius would say. "You are mistaken. There aren't any mockingbirds out there. I just looked."

He was only five years old, but his parents already knew not to correct him where birds were concerned. "No," his mother sighed, "I must be mistaken."

By the time he was ten, his life list was close to a hundred, and his life in general revolved around birds. In an effort to get him to socialize more, his parents took him to his first Audubon meeting. The people at the meeting smiled when little Octavius announced that he had a life list of 98 species. "98? Wow," said an old lady in a condescending tone. "That's an awful lot of birds for such a little boy."

The condescending tone was lost on Octavius, as he proudly handed her his list. Through the propped open door, he heard an bird call outside, and he absently called out, "Screech owl". The old lady raised an eyebrow at the fact that he identified the owl correctly only by his call. After looking over the list, she handed it back to Octavius, and said sweetly, "Well, it's a very impressive list, but you forgot to write down mockingbird!"

Octavius was crestfallen and ashamed. In his ten years he had never seen a mockingbird. He knew that all of the guidebooks said mockingbirds are common in his home state of Florida. He knew they lived in every state in the union. He knew, deep down, that his mother and father were right when they said they saw them in the yard. But some how, inexplicably, he had never, not once, ever seen a mocking bird.

"Yeah." He lied to the old lady, "I forgot to write it down. I'll add it when I get home. I don't... have a pencil." He quickly snatched his list back and ran to the snack table to bury his shame in cookies and punch.

After that first Audubon meeting, he quickly gained a reputation and began birding with the grown ups. He was asked to participate in field trips and bird counts and he even tried his hand at some competitive birding, keeping species count totals by day, month and year. But, his secret shame continued. Even when birding with groups, he still did not see a mockingbird.

On one Christmas count, he was determined that he would never leave his teammates; he would HAVE to see a mockingbird. The count started at 6:00 a.m. Finally at 4:00 p.m., he could not stand it any longer and had to leave his team momentarily to visit a bush. He was not gone longer than 3 minutes, but when he returned, he was devastated to see the damning checkmark on the page. "Hey," his teammate exclaimed, "We finally got a mocker, funny that's the only one we've seen all day, no one would ever believe us if we came back without that!"

Octavius wanted to cry, but again, hid his secret shame. "Yeah, wouldn't that have been unusual," he muttered through gritted teeth.

Eventually, he turned 17, got his license, and began serious competitive birding. After three tries, he broke his first "Big Day" record, with 135 species seen in one day in the month of October. He proudly submitted the record to the American Birding Association's national Big Day editor. A few weeks later, he received a letter.

Dear Mr. Mimus,

There appears to be an omission in your record. Can you please verify that you saw a mockingbird? Thank you for your time.

ABA Big Day Editor

He did not know what to do. He was painfully honest, and would not lie for the sake of the record. He ignored the letter and let the record drop. He would rather not have the record than admit he had not seen a mockingbird.

He eventually worked out big days to a science. Using maps, plot points, graphs and charts, he learned where all the birds in Florida were (except, of course, the mockingbird) and over the next few years managed to break the Big Day record for all 12 months. But he could not bring himself to be questioned about the mockingbird. "The numbers are the important thing," he told himself. So, he erased one species from each record bid and replaced it with "Mockingbird." He still felt a twinge of guilt, but just could not face being questioned again.

By the time he was 30, in addition to every Big Day record, he held all of the Big Month and the Big Year records as well. He was very well known for his birding prowess; all of the local birding festivals sought his expertise, and he even began leading his own tours. But still, his dark secret pained him deep down inside. For every record, he still omitted one bird and replaced it with "Mockingbird"

Eventually, he found a girl who loved birds, and more importantly loved him. They married and spent 40 years birding together. They had a successful bird guiding business together, and they led tours first in the United States, then worldwide. Shortly after his 72nd birthday, he had his 4000th life bird in Costa Rica. But alas, still no mocking bird.

On their 45th wedding anniversary, he seemed sad and withdrawn. His wife sat beside him on their porch swing, overlooking their birdfeeders in the back yard.

"I have something to confess..." he started hesitating.

"What is it" she asked? She noticed a tear running down his cheek.

"I... I..." he stammered. "I've never seen a mockingbird..." by now he was crying outright" "All of my records are LIES!"

She sat in silence for a moment. He was clearly upset, yet deep down, she could not believe what he was saying. She laughed nervously. "You're joking... you're not joking." After a few minutes of uneasy silence, she said, "Wait... I saw a mockingbird nest in the county park just yesterday, right in the pine behind the fountain. I know the babies haven't fledged yet, let's go over right now, and I'll show them to you."

He sighed. "No, it's pointless. They won't be there, they never are. A snake or cat has gotten them by now. Trust me, I've stalked, I've pished, I've called, I've played owl tapes, I even set up a surveillance video system once. I will never EVER see one!" She gently took his hand.

"Come on now," she said. "They will still be there, it can't hurt to drive over to the park. It's a lovely day anyway, and even if we don't see one, we can look at other birds."

He slowly rose from the porch swing, and they made their way back into the house to get the car keys. The phone rang as they were heading towards the front door. He reached for the phone.

"Hello?" an excited voice rang out. "This is Billy, down the street! Mr. Mimus, I just saw a birds nest and there were little baby birds in it and I know you love birds cause you showed me some one day and they are really really neat and they are in the county park in a tree right behind the fountain, and you really should go look at it!" The young voice expelled everything without taking a breath.

Octavius laughed. "Actually, young Billy, we were just heading to the county park this minute to look at a nest."

He said goodbye to Billy, and as Octavius hung up the phone he looked at his wife and chuckled. "Well," he said, "Apparently they haven't fledged yet, Billy just saw them. Let's go!" And grabbing his wife's hand they headed out the door.

They drove to the county park, and were making the left turn into the entrance. Neither Octavius nor his wife ever saw the out of control 18-wheeler with the bad brakes.

***

Octavius found himself standing before St. Peter. "Where..." and he looked around.

"Hello Mr. Mimus," said St. Peter. "Did you enjoy your years as a human?'

"Uh... yes, very much, thank you. Are you St. Peter?"

St. Peter nodded. "Yes," he said absently, looking over a sheet of paper. "It says here that you led an exemplary life. Did lots for conservation, taught many children to love and respect birds and nature... but... uh-oh... we've got a few lies here. Lots of lies actually..."

Ocatavius looked at the ground, or clouds as it were. "About the mockingbirds... it was my greatest shame... I just couldn't face it..."

St. Peter smiled. "You don't remember, do you?"

Octavius looked at St. Peter. "Remember? Remember what?"

St. Peter waved his hand and a videotape and VCR appeared. "We always keep surveillance tapes up here. Critters have such short memories." He pressed the Play button on the VCR, and the surveillance tape began to run. Octavius watched the following:

The tape began with St. Peter looking down in bemusement. "Surely," he said, "there must be a mistake. Before him, awaiting judgment, was a small mockingbird. St. Peter picked up a piece of paper titled, "Sins of Mr. Mockingbird", which he began to read. His bemusement began to sour as he read. Finally, lowering the paper, he looked down at the bird.

"It says here, Mr. Mockingbird," he began, "That you had a habit of smashing other birds eggs? How do you defend yourself?"

The mockingbird looked up at St. Peter, squinted his eyes, and, putting his wings on his hips, looked as defiant as he could muster. "I don't defend myself. I just felt like breaking some eggs."

St. Peter shook his head. "Well," he began, "Many birds will take other birds eggs to eat or feed to their young. Were you hungry?"

"Nope" said the mockingbird plainly, "I just liked smashing eggs."

"Hmm.." St. Peter began again. "Well, sometimes birds kick other bird's eggs out and replace them with their own, for the other bird to raise. It's an instinctual thing that we put into some birds. Did you replace the eggs with your own?"

The mockingbird let out a bored sigh. "Are you not listening to me? I just ENJOYED smashing eggs!"

"But..." St. Peter stammered. "I've never had to punish a bird before... are you sure there wasn't a better reason?"

The mockingbird ran his wing over the top of his head. "You are really getting on my nerves now. For Pete's sake, get on with your little 'punishment' thing."

St. Peter stared at the bird for a moment. "I punish you to go back to earth to life a lifetime as a human.

The bird laughed. "A human? A long life span, drive a car, oh yeah, that's some big punishment! I thought you were gonna make me be a dung beetle or something!"

St. Peter smiled at the mockingbird. "I hereby sentence you to be a birder."

Advice From One Very Bad Birder to the Others

(Copyright 2012, Dee Fairbanks Simpson, originally published in SCAS Limpkin)

Recently, I was going back through my birding journals of the last ten years. I have been given a lot of advice since moving to Florida a decade ago. Some of the advice made me laugh at the time, but in hindsight, despite the fact that I am still a Very Bad Birder, I am not nearly as bad as I was when I started. I thought I would share with you some of the wisdom that has been imparted to me.

On my very first trip to Merritt Island, I was looking at a bird in a bush, having no idea what it was. A guy pulled up behind me and asked if I knew what it was. I told him no. He then proceeded to introduce himself (Doug Johanssen) and tell me what the bird was (Prairie Warbler), and then he had me follow him around the refuge. We were somewhere out on Haulover canal when a Tern came along, at which point, Doug said, "Wait for a minute, another Tern will come along." I of course, took the bait and asked him how he knew that. To which he replied, "Well, everyone knows one good tern deserves another." That day, Doug taught me about birds, he put me in touch with Travis MacClendon (and hence the IRAS), and he also taught me that birders are capable of terrible, terrible puns.

At my very first IRAS meeting (before we became SCAS) I brought in a photo album I had put together of my bird pictures. I proudly showed it to Travis MacClendon, and asked if he could help me identify the birds therein. The sage advice that I received from Travis that day was, "That's a Laughing Gull. That's another laughing gull. That's another laughing gull. That's another laughing gull. That's another laughing gull. etc" It turned out that I had about 75 pictures of laughing gulls (young, old, winter, summer, breeding.) I had no idea that they changed color throughout their lives. The lesson learned from this experience was to buy Sibley's Guide to Birds, which I don't leave home with out now. (I also learned that Travis has the patience of a saint!)

After joining Audubon, I started birding regularly with Pat and Bill Meyer. I have learned a lot from them over the years, but I think the advice that has improved my birding the most was when Bill told me, "Palm Warblers pump their tails when they perch." From this I started to notice how important behavior, not just color and shape is to identifying birds. I was able to add the Dowitcher (sewing machine bird), Ruddy Turnstone, and many others to my life list once I started to notice behavior.

One fateful day at an IRAS meeting, some insanely handsome guy came in and said they needed volunteers for the Cocoa Christmas Bird Count. I knew nothing about counting birds, but hey, I figured, this really cute guy needs volunteers, so I signed up. A few days before the count, I was a feeling a bit apprehensive and called my dad for advice. The advice he gave me was, "The easiest way to count a flock of birds is to count their eyes and then divide by two." I guess this wasn't so much a birding lesson as a life lesson; I learned that insanity runs in families.

Eventually, I started dating that cute guy from the bird count. One day, before we were married, David and I were out birding. He pointed out a bird to me and asked me what it was. I don't remember exactly what I guessed, but it was something along the lines of "Little Blue Heron?" David looked at me incredulously and said, "You are not getting back into my truck." I knew I had said something very very very wrong. I opened my Sibley's and started searching. That day I learned how to identify Blue-grey Gnatcatchers, and he finally let me get back into the truck. To this day, they are one of the few birds that I don't get wrong. Ever.

Despite getting lots of advice, I eventually came up with my own ways of identifying birds. I tend to anthropomorphize a lot, or to find objects that birds look similar to. Belted Kingfishers, to me look exactly like the cartoon character Bart Simpson -- I can always tell one on the wires remembering that. I kept this to myself for the most part though, as I assumed that real birders don't need to associate birds with something else to remember them. One day, while birding with Travis MacClendon, he pointed to some birds and said there was a Chimney Swift in the flock. I asked him how he knew, and he replied, "Chimney Swifts in flight look like cigars with wings." I was so relieved to find that "real" birders use less than scientific descriptions too. Eventually, as part of the Florida Master Naturalist course, I developed a presentation on Non-Scientific Birding that, although quite silly, seems to strike a chord with other bad birders.

After I'd been birding for a while, although I was enjoying it, I was still pretty self conscious of the fact that I just wasn't very good at it. One day, Carroll Holland gave me some advice that I think has really made all the difference to me: "If you want to see more birds, have a few drinks before you start birding, that way you will see two of everything." I laughed at the time, but it also made me realize that I was taking birding way too seriously. I learned from Carroll the most important birding advice: just because it's a scientific endeavor, it doesn't mean it can't be fun.

True Nature Facts

(Copyright 2012, Dee Fairbanks Simpson, originally published in SCAS Limpkin)

In the course of editing this newsletter, I have accumulated many amazing nature facts. I will now share with you a few of my favorites:

• Despite their massive (over 15 inch) beaks, Great Blue Herons only have 4 teeth! Because their teeth are close together, Great Blues can often be seen "flossing" with sea grass.
• Although John James Audubon is well known today for his bird art, in his own time, he was better known for his tex-mex chili recipe, for which he was world renowned.
• 26% of all lima bean crops are lost to swamp sparrows.
• Snowy Egrets can have up to 19 birds in each brood, and are known to mate as often as 3 times per year.
• Scrub Jays are born solid white; they turn blue because of their diet, which consists exclusively of blueberry flavored popcicles.
• Manatees have very small legs which they can use to walk on land for brief periods of time, usually at night.
• Hummingbirds can carry over 50,000 times their own body weight.
• In the state of Florida, at least three human babies per year are carried away by birds of prey. In most cases, the babies are raised as part of the bird's brood, although despite the birds' best efforts, they generally do not make it past the fledgling stage.
• 98% of all Painted Buntings are color blind, and thus don't know they are pretty.
• When drumming, Pileated Woodpeckers strike at a rate of over 30 times per second, with a force of 800 psi.
• Least Terns can dive to depths of up to 1500 meters.
• Indigo snakes are carnivores, but only eat vegetarians.
• Robins and Flamingos can cross breed, but the resulting offspring are not able to breed; not because they are sterile, but because they are really ugly and can't get dates.
• The call of a Prairie Warbler can be heard for more than 50 miles.
• Turkey Vultures have two sets of wings, the outer set is used for take offs, the inner set is used for landings.
• A single butterfly can consume 5 pounds of raw hamburger in just one day.

Editors Note: I am not sure if I remembered all these facts correctly, to be honest I was in a hurry when I wrote this article, and I had to put this article together at the last minute because I needed something to fill space in the newsletter. I am extremely lucky to have one regular, dependable columnist (the wonderful Dave Freeland) but alas, he cannot completely fill every issue for us. Unfortunately, this article is the type of quality you can continue to expect if I don't start getting some submissions for the newsletter for the next volume. However, if you have noticed any errors in this article, please feel free to write an article of your own which I will be happy to print in the Limpkin when we resume publication in September. Send all submissions to the SCAS post box.

Bird Identification Tips from the Very Bad Birder

(Copyright 2012, Dee Fairbanks Simpson, originally published in SCAS Limpkin)

In an effort to help other Very Bad Birders (VBBs - let's form a club!) I thought I would offer some handy tips for identifying a few of the very few species that I am currently capable of identifying. First, a general tip: despite what the experts claim, it is not the shape, beak, feathers or legs that make birds identifiable; it is the birder's ability to anthropomorphize the bird. Once you can find a human trait to which you can relate a bird, you will remember the bird. So, without further ado, here are some tips for remembering certain species.

Royal terns are easily identified by their male pattern baldness. If you are at the beach and see a tern that appears to be middle aged and in need of a good toupee (white crown with a black fringe of feathers closely resembling my dad's hairline, you've most likely got yourself a royal tern.

White Ibis always appear somewhat refined, with their large bodies, white feathers and delicately curved orange beak. To me, they look like they would answer to the name "Harriet"; I can easily picture a white ibis taking high tea with it's pinkie raised (well, Ibises don't have pinkies, so you have to use your imagination on this one. ) If calling Ibises Harriet doesn't work for you, another tip off that you are looking at an Ibis species is that because of it's curved beak, it is one of the few birds that would have to land on top of your head in order to peck your eyes, thus making them a pretty safe species to study. Once you have it narrowed down to Ibis, if it's white, it's a white ibis, if it's brown spotted it's an immature white ibis, and if it has a dark multi-colored coat, it's a either a glossy ibis or a white ibis wearing a sweater that his Aunt Harriet got him for Christmas.

Anhingas and Cormorants are two species that can commonly be seen doing their laundry. Very often, you will see them sitting on a rock, hanging their wings out to dry. The main difference between the two species is that the cormorant has a rounder head and it's beak is also rounded at the tip, giving him a more friendly appearance. Anhingas, with their very pointy beak and thin face look more stern, and slightly angry. Unlike the aforementioned Ibis, an Anhinga could easily peck your eyes and would not need to be on top of your head to do so.

Painted buntings are a unique, very brightly colored bird. Now, I am a notoriously bad dresser; were it not for my older sister preventing me from doing so, I would wear garish mismatched clothing every day. If you see a small, perching bird, and think to yourself, "Man, that looks like something Dee would wear if Shirley didn't stop her," you are probably looking at a painted bunting.

Ospreys and eagles appear similar; they are both large birds of prey. The main way to differentiate between them is that Ospreys are somewhat jauntier dressers, with their white vest, as opposed to eagles, who wear a somewhat more business-like mostly brown suit. Unlike Royal terns, bald eagles do not suffer male-pattern baldness, they have more of a Yul Brenner type of baldness. Ospreys can appear quite similar to second-year eagles. A trick to tell them apart is their eyes; Ospreys have a slightly cross-eyed look; again, the eagle looks more serious and business like. Another tip for telling the two apart is to always carry money with you when you bird; if the bird looks like the bird on the US seal, it's a eagle. Unless you are carrying Canadian currency, which can be used for identifying beavers and moose, but alas will do you no good when faced with an osprey or eagle.

Tune in next month for additional tips including, "Birding by Cartoon" and "Trying to Identify Birds that Experienced Birders Make up Just to Make you Feel Inadequate."

The Continuing Adventures of the Very Bad Birder

(Copyright 2012, Dee Fairbanks Simpson, originally published in SCAS Limpkin)

In our last installment in the May Limpkin, you might recall the Great Blue Heron/Osprey debacle. Well, I ended the spring with the intention of leaving behind my reputation of Brevard's Worst Birder, and decided to devote my summer to learning more birds and perhaps moving into second place in the worst birding category (I was hoping that maybe there exists a piece of driftwood laying on Cocoa Beach that has less bird sense than I).

So armed with my Sibley guide, I headed toÉ my office to complete a major project for work with a June deadline. Aside from a quick run through Viera to see the usual suspects, June found me staring at a computer instead of out having fun. July, I figured, would be better. I started off the month with a solo trip through MINWR, which resulted in about 30 species, includingÉ hey! What is that thingÉI knew by the flight pattern it was a woodpecker of some typeÉspotted tummy, kind of stripped backÉ a quick study of Sibley's and ta-da! my first Northern flicker! I excitedly came home and bragged proudly to my resident expert. Feeling a new confidence in my birding skills, I immediatelyÉ returned to my computer to complete yet another big important deadline for work.

I did not have a chance to do much more birding, but in late July, on a much needed Starbucks run, I noticed two gray duckies in new storm-water pond just outside of Cocoa Village. I meant to look them up, but never got the chance. A few days later, I noticed them there once more. And when I went by in the evening the were there, when I went by a few days later in the morning they were there. I thought that was some what strange, because as a rule I would expect them to go out and feed and such, but again, I really didn't have time to research these rather sedentary ducks. I meant to ask my resident expert about them, but he was off big daying, and I was working and once again it slipped my mind.

Finally, my deadline successfully reached in early August, I figured I could relax a bit, and went off to the movies. While driving there, I once again saw these big gray ducks, and upon returning home, I finally remembered to ask David if there were any big gray ducks that he knew of. He kind of gave me thatÉ look, but kindly replied, "Uh, not that I know ofÉ" and we forgot about it. Until last weekend, when we were heading over to Merritt Island and passed the pond, where the two large gray ducks were STILL sitting! Excitedly, I said, "See? There they are! They are still there! What kind of ducks are those?" What kind of ducks are those?"

To which my resident expert replied, "Do you mean those Canada Goose DECOYS???" At which point, I decided that perhaps I had worked a tad too hard* over the summer, and I promptly came home and scheduled my vacation.

*Confidential to my boss, who is an Audubon member and will probably read this: Yes, Karl, I am blaming this incident on work. If you ever want to come to a meeting to dispute this, SCAS meetings are held on the 5th Friday of each month. On a house boat. Off of Key West. Hope to see you there!

Know Your Elected Officials

(Copyright 2003, Dee Fairbanks Simpson. Originally published in SCAS Limpkin)

As your recently re-elected vice president, after two years of holding this office, I feel it is time to come clean and confess: I am a terrible birder. I guess the main reason is my lack of observational skills. Those of you on the Audubon e-mail list are familiar with what has now become known as "The Ulumay Incident," but for those of you who are not aware of it, I will share my journal entry from a year ago on the subject:

Saturday, May 31, 2003: I have heard that observation is one of the key skills for being a birder. Today, I decided to go up to Ulumay to do some sketching. To be honest, I've never really seen the attraction of Ulumay. I mean, it's just a 1/4 mile dirt road that dead ends into a pier. I've been there about six times and have never seen anything other than a few Ospreys in the nests along the road. Today, while walking down the dirt road, I came across this big yellow gate... and then noticed trails and birds and water. In my own defense, as big yellow gates go, it's not a HUGE yellow gate... I mean anyone could have missed it (and hence the ENTIRE sanctuary)... repeatedly... over the course of three years... Also, in my defense, I wasn't wearing my glasses (which I guess doesn't really explain how I missed the ENTIRE SANCTUARY my first five visits...).

Now, lets fast forward a year to last Sunday. Having spent most of the last year cavorting with one of the greatest birders in Florida, I thought that I was finally starting to get the hang of this observation stuff. I went out on a solo trip to the Viera wetlands to see what I could see. I quickly recorded the big, obvious birds (Cara Cara, Great Egret, White Ibis, Tri-color Heron) and some of the floaty type birds (Coot, Moorhen, Pied-bill Grebe, Blue-wing Teal) but then I saw...something else. It was a smallish, pointy bird, which I quickly narrowed down to some type of Tern. I immediately ruled out Royal Tern as it did not have that male-pattern baldness thing going on; I ruled out Caspian because it did not have the wicked red-orange beak. I watched the bird for a long time, remembering all the things I should look for, What color is the beak? (black) What shape is the beak? (stabby) What markings does it have? (black eye patches) Finally, I opened my Sibley's guide, and felt that the only thing it could possibly be was a juvenile Forster's Term. I was ever so proud of myself, and positive that I had correctly identified it all on my own.

Then I drove on. A large bird flew beside my car and I watched it intently for a moment, and quickly wrote down, "Great Blue Heron," a no-brainer. There's not too much that you can mistake for a Great Blue Heron after all, even if he is in flight. And the lighting isn't good. And uh, you aren't wearing your glasses... The Great Blue Heron landed on top of a dead snag in front of my car (okay, that should have been my first clue.) As I drove up beside it, I started to realize, that it was in fact, not a Great Blue Heron. In fact it wasn't a Heron at all, it wasn't even a shore bird. Did I mention that I was not wearing my glasses? It was, in fact, an...

(Note: Those of you who voted to elect me vice president of a birding organization might want to stop reading at this point. Those of you left reading who have told me that in light of the company I've been keeping, my birding skills should REALLY be improving, please promise that you will not hold the following against him or take this in any way as a reflection on his teaching skills.)

Osprey.

Now, again, in all fairness to me, I am used to only seeing Osprey in the Ulumay parking area.