American Avocets
By Jackson Roth
Last Fall we went to Henderson Bird Viewing Preserve to find some migratory birds to add to our life list.
There is an informative woman at the front desk who often gives advice about the recently seen birds in the preserve. As we were chatting, she mentioned that there were some avocets in an area of the preserve that we had never visited. I looked at the Merlin and Audubon field guides, and, seeing how beautiful and elegant they were, I instantly wanted to see them. I was excited but cautious, since it was migration season, and the avocets might have already flown away. Nevertheless, I suggested that we pass by it during our excursion into the preserve.
After a bit of walking around, we crossed the preserve and got to the turn in the path that we had never gone to before. With high expectations, we turned left at the fork and went along the path. I was assuming there would be clear views onto a lake bursting full of waterfowl. But, as we walked, my high expectations started to falter. It was unexpectedly hot, we were dusty, and there was no lake vista beyond the trees. Eventually we saw our first sign of a lake, some Northern Shovelers chilling on the banks in a small peeking area in the trees. We watched them for a while, but we had seen shovelers all morning, so we moved on, expecting to see the avocets at any step. But, again, I was disappointed. The trees were just too dense; there was no view of the lake. The entire path was trees on one side and a neighborhood on the other. As we walked a bit farther, I finally offered a suggestion. “Maybe we should just turn back. Maybe that peek of the shovelers was the only view we’ll get.” But my parents convinced me that we should keep going; there might be a better view of the lake later on. The heat was getting us in a bit of a going-home mood, but finally we turned a corner, and there it was, a beautiful shining lake. And the avocets.
The avocets were everywhere. Sitting, standing, pecking, chattering. It was amazing to see the large flock of them all clustering and communicating. My mom pulled out her camera and started frantically snapping pictures. While the pictures made the avocets look like fuzzy white blobs, it was a good way to remember that incredible day. My dad and I pulled out our binoculars, furiously swooping back and forth, trying to see all of the action in this avocet flock.
We came back about a week later, and they were gone. That is one of the joys of migration season: see a beautiful sight one week, and it's gone the next. It leaves you with a feeling of “wow, I saw something that will happen in a year or might never happen again. I saw something rare. And really cool.”
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