Anhingas, part two:
Anhingas seem to be on my brain this morning, not just my patio.
My brother thinks they're ugly - water turkeys, he names them, and the description has some truth to it. Certainly, ecologically, these are absurd birds: what type of waterbird doesn't develop waterproof feathers and has to waste so much time drying itself in the wind and the sun? What type of bird, needing to stand in the bright sunlight in a land filled with waiting alligators, has dark black feathers contrasting sharply with the surrounding greenery? A dumb bird, will say some. Among my favorites, I'll answer.
Yes, yes, from a purely aesthetic point of view the herons and the rare cranes of the Everglades are far lovelier; yes, the purple gallinule shimmers more gorgeously in the sun; and yes, the common moorhens (the black waterbirds with red beaks) are more funny and practical.
Yes, yes.
But the anhinga dive bombs into and out of water.
One of the most marvelous things about the Everglades, bar none, is how you can sit and watch a small patch of water - a pond, a flowing bit of water though grass, an alligator hole, a water spot near a tree island - and almost see something moving beneath the water. Fish, perhaps. Maybe an alligator - no. From that small water flow suddenly pops the head of an anhinga, swallowing a small fish.
Anhinga swim at vast speeds through lakes and ponds after fish; they probably don't actually need to dive, but they seem to like it, so they do. And watching them on cling precariously to a tree branch, wings outstretched to grab every last particle of sun -
Go see this for yourself, if you can.
My brother thinks they're ugly - water turkeys, he names them, and the description has some truth to it. Certainly, ecologically, these are absurd birds: what type of waterbird doesn't develop waterproof feathers and has to waste so much time drying itself in the wind and the sun? What type of bird, needing to stand in the bright sunlight in a land filled with waiting alligators, has dark black feathers contrasting sharply with the surrounding greenery? A dumb bird, will say some. Among my favorites, I'll answer.
Yes, yes, from a purely aesthetic point of view the herons and the rare cranes of the Everglades are far lovelier; yes, the purple gallinule shimmers more gorgeously in the sun; and yes, the common moorhens (the black waterbirds with red beaks) are more funny and practical.
Yes, yes.
But the anhinga dive bombs into and out of water.
One of the most marvelous things about the Everglades, bar none, is how you can sit and watch a small patch of water - a pond, a flowing bit of water though grass, an alligator hole, a water spot near a tree island - and almost see something moving beneath the water. Fish, perhaps. Maybe an alligator - no. From that small water flow suddenly pops the head of an anhinga, swallowing a small fish.
Anhinga swim at vast speeds through lakes and ponds after fish; they probably don't actually need to dive, but they seem to like it, so they do. And watching them on cling precariously to a tree branch, wings outstretched to grab every last particle of sun -
Go see this for yourself, if you can.