I was supposed to go to Florida for a couple of months this winter. Toss my binoculars, my bird guides, my bathing suit, my golf clubs and my dog into the camper and head south. Ah, warmth.
They call Florida a peninsula, but it’s just a giant sandbar. A friend of mine calls it “The Big Spit”. I was really looking forward to being roasted brown. Well, those plans went out the window.
Then I got an invitation from my long-time friend Charlie Rattigan to join him at the Space Coast Birding and Nature Festival. I knew nothing about the festival, but Titusville, Florida had to be warmer than Winnipeg. And it was in an area where I could finally, maybe, find the Florida Scrub-Jay, a bird that had eluded me on three previous trips to The Sunshine State. Maybe the Red-cockaded Woodpecker and the Brown-headed Nuthatch too.
Getting a plane ticket at the very last minute means one thing: bad itinerary. I had to get up at 4:00 am, fly to Chicago, wait there, fly to Cleveland, wait there, then fly to Orlando. Wait there too — for Charlie to arrive. ARRRRGH! Fourteen hours sitting on airline seats and in noisy terminals!
Only one week in Florida instead of two months: I’d better make the most of it.
We got to Titusville a day before the festival began and decided to do some preliminary birding on our own. Using the Audubon Birds app with its “Find Birds with eBird” connection on Charlie’s iPhone, we quickly found out where Florida Scrub-jays had recently been spotted. Of the numerous sightings, Cape Canaveral National Seashore seemed like the perfect choice; it was not only close but shared a border with Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge.
When we got to the fee station on Merritt Island, we asked the ranger on duty where the Scrub-jays were. An affable, talkative guy, he told us to park the car and walk behind the ranger station. We couldn’t believe it. They could be right there!
Then again, the curse of the mythical Florida Scrub-Jay could still be operational. I’d missed a sure thing before; I could be unlucky again.
Before we began walking around, we checked the app for the songs and calls of the jay, not as noisy and insistent as a Blue Jay. The Florida Scrub-Jay is quieter, a more modest “shreep.”
Right away we saw a jay-sized grayish bird scooting through the bushes. Could we be so lucky as to see a Scrub Jay this quickly? Nope. It was a Northern Mockingbird (very plentiful in Florida).
Northern Mockingbird © James M. Wedge/VIREO
Was that a “shreep” we heard on the other side of the bushes? Was that the mockingbird mocking us, imitating the jay?
We cut though the bushes and got to an opening where the railroad tracks separated the refuge from the Kennedy Space Center. We’d been warned not to go past the tracks. For a second I thought to myself: am I willing to be clapped in jail for a lifer? Will I have to cross the tracks to find the elusive Florida Scrub-Jay?
In the time it took to ask and answer my own question, it became irrelevant. A Scrub-jay appeared as if out of nowhere, flying across the tracks from the Space Center property and perched in a small tree next to the tracks. Then suddenly another, and another, and another. Four Scrub-Jays. Three hopping on the tracks coming ever closer. We hoisted our binoculars and took them in. Soon we didn’t really need to. They were close enough to see clearly with the naked eye. These are lovely birds. A blue that reminds me of the color of a Mountain Bluebird with a white throat and a necklace of blue.
Florida Scrub-Jay © Arthur Morris/VIREO
These Scrub-jays were curious and fearless like their cousins the Gray Jays, the “Whiskey Jacks.” The boldest one, with four leg bands, bounced along the railroad ties and came within a foot of my boots. The three others, without bands, got within six feet or so, but no closer. The jays stayed until we had imprinted them indelibly in our minds. What a great way to get a lifer!
On our way out, we thanked the park ranger. He asked if we were interested in owls too. When we said yes, he told us to stop down the road and look in an open field surrounded by a fence.
There on a fifty foot high pole was an Osprey nest. In the nest was a Great Horned Owl. Clearly, a lazy but feisty owl.
Great Horned Owl adult, Eastern © Johann Schumacher/VIREO
We poked around the island some more. Man, there are a lot of vultures in Florida! Has the economic depression attracted them in such numbers, or is it always like this? Hardly a minute passed without us seeing either a Black or a Turkey Vulture, often dozens at a time. Soaring, teetering, swooping and looking for carrion. Eerie!
And Coots. Coots everywhere! The ponds and lagoons of Merritt Island are full of coots. We saw hundreds and hundreds at a time. And lovely views of Snow and Great egrets with an occasional Tricolored heron in the mix of birds.
Our daily list had reached thirty birds in less than three hours when we decided to head out. We’d seen some great birds: a Bald Eagle (always a thrill), Northern Cardinals, Pine warblers, Boat-tailed Grackles (better vocalizations than their Common cousins), Red-bellied woodpeckers (pretty common), Eurasian Collared-Doves, and White Ibises, to mention just a few.
White Ibis adult, breeding © Arthur Morris/VIREO
On our way off the island we decided to stop at a beach on the north side of the road just before the bridge. We’d seen some gulls and waders along the shore from a distance.
The gulls included: Ring-billed, Bonaparte’s, Laughing, Great Black-backed. There were some interesting terns. Forster’s (always a special treat) and side-by-side a Caspian and a Royal Tern, offering a great opportunity to note the subtle differences. White crown and yellow-orange bill on the Royals, black skullcap and red-orange bill on the Caspian.
Among the gulls and terns, a special bird for me, also turned out to be a lifer. Black skimmers, close to 100 birds resting about 10 yards offshore on land that had not been covered by the tide. One took off and flew closer. With its lower mandible skimming the smooth surface of the lagoon, it was unmistakable – even for someone who has never seen one before.
Black Skimmer adult, breeding © Arthur Morris/VIREO
We then turned our attention to the shorebirds. Shorebirds are a challenging species for me and many people. It’s often impossible to distinguish one from another, particularly when they are dressed in their winter plumage. It can be frustrating. Paying attention to behaviour near the water’s edge will provide the observer with ID clues.
There were Ruddy Turnstones, turning stones: always fun to see, sanderlings behaving like wind up toys, and dunlins actively feeding.
It was a remarkable morning of birding – sharing the experience of seeing two life birds with my friend as well as the enjoyment and challenge of finding and identifying birds in this still wild area shared with scrub-jays, rockets, and astronauts.
