WILD THINGS: WHAT WE TALK ABOUT WHEN WE TALK ABOUT PAINTED BUNTINGS
The name bunting comes from a Scottish word that basically means plump. That seems judgmental. If they are plump, they are pleasingly plump, and no one talks...
Common grackles — victims of their own success
I’d say I can’t tell you the last time I saw a common grackle, but that wouldn’t be true. I saw one last Saturday while riding my...
WILD THINGS: THE SUBTLE GENIUS OF SWALLOW-TAILED KITES
The kite shot out from nowhere, just above the road, doing something of a bootlegger turn, its face angled one way, its body sliding another. Its wings were...
WILD THINGS: THE ART OF BLENDING IN
The wind made it difficult to think. Tilt your head the wrong way and your hat would fly off and tumbleweed down the beach. It didn’t matter...
WILD THINGS: SCUTES & SHITE-POKES AT THE BLUE HOLE
I was up at the Blue Hole on Big Pine the other day, standing on the platform, staring at the gator in the shallow water below, watching...
WILD THINGS: PRESERVING THE SPIRIT OF KEY WEST’S FRAN FORD
I was thinking about Fran Ford the other day. Possibly because I was sitting on a bench in the shade of a giant ficus tree in the...
WILD THINGS: DANCE IS LIFE — FOR SOME
I was reading a species account of the Reddish Egret the other day, when the authors described the bird as a “charismatic species,” which kind of stopped...
WILD THINGS: YOU’VE GOTTA HAVE STANDARDS
It’s not that my wife hates birdwatching. She just has very stringent standards for when she will go.
The idea of walking around for hours, staring into bushes,...
WILD THINGS: COUNTING ON THE BIRD COUNT
The 121st Christmas Bird Count, Key West edition, started with Ellen Westbrook and three guys named Mark (Songer, Whiteside and me) standing at the foot of White...
WILD THINGS: VEXED BY A DUCK
I hate chasing birds. And I hate getting up early. And, closing out my third decade living in the Keys, I don’t much like the cold. So...
