Slice of Coastal Life

A flutter of black and red caught my eye on a recent eco tour as we drifted between vibrant marsh and the banks of St. Catherines Island, a Georgia barrier island.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” I said to Captain Wild Bill, the eco guide and certified naturalist. I watched a glossy black bird with red and yellow shoulder patches cling to the blades of marsh grass.

“That’s a male Red-winged Blackbird,” he said as the bird flew to a new blade of marsh. “The females are streaky brown and similar in looks to sparrows.”

I watched the slender black bird with the slightly flared tail, obviously at home in the saltwater marshes, land and sway with the breeze on the marsh blade.

“It’s neat to see a bird like that out here,” I said to him, “in a place where we usually focus on egrets, herons, and shore birds.”

“They’re pretty common,” he said.

“They breed in wet areas,” he added, maneuvering the boat by the birds. “The Red-winged Blackbird nests in the wooded areas along our waterways.”

“Conk-la-ree,” one twittered and flew to another blade of marsh.

I studied the markings and made a mental note that the bird seemed hump-backed when perching. “I believe I can identify this one next time,” I said, feeling good about adding another bird to my memory bank. As a novice birder, it was fun to learn about the coastal birds crossing my path. Or maybe I crossed theirs.

“They feed on insects in the summer,” Wild Bill continued in a teaching mode, “and seeds like corn and wheat in the winter.”

A Great Blue Heron flew by the boat, and we turned our attention away from the Red-winged Blackbird. But I knew I’d welcome a future sighting, even if I happened to be alone.

Special thanks to Joyce Jarrell of Joyful Moments Photography for snapping the photos for me when my camera battery died.

Enjoy my eco tour with Capatin Wild Bill, certified naturalist and professional fishing guide, and my best friend Joyce, a coastal photographer, and my daughter Meredith, home from college for a week. Ahh. What a glorious day.

The birds hummed and the trees danced as we drifted by the banks of St. Catherines Island, a Georgia barrier island. We floated along, enjoying no set destination in mind. Just soaking up the sun, salt air, nature around us, and water and sky the same shade of dark blue.

But our eco tour began at the end of the dock. Captain Wild Bill pointed out various birds. But as he turned away, I spotted a brown bird and snapped a photo of it.

“What was that brown one?” I asked him.

“I didn’t see it, so it must be an LBJ,” he said, grinning. “A little brown job.” He waited for me to get his joke. “There are numerous brown shore birds, so I’d need to see it to identify it.”

We laughed and oohed and ahhed at American Oystercatchers feeding at the water’s edge. We listened and learned while Wild Bill explained the importance of our marsh, and even the microbes we can’t see, to the health of the environment.

We took our time and stopped to explore whatever caught our fancy. An odd formation of shells and sand, an interesting piece of driftwood, or a glimpse of a bird caused us to slow down and discover.

Heaven.

Our goal revolved around just being outside, on the water. Truthfully, I would have been happy feeling the sun on my shoulders and the breeze against my skin. There’s nothing like stepping on a boat and heading away from the dock to leave stress behind.

So we headed out with no real expectations. If we saw birds, great. If we watched dolphins frolic, wonderful. If a gator’s eyes dotted the surface of the water, we’d snap a photo. But if we only experienced the blue skies above with puffs of white clouds and the cool spray of the water, life would be good.

Captain Wild Bill reminded us, “The trip is all about having fun.”

And with the day ahead of us, Meredith and I were ready to explore the Georgia waterways. The warm sunlight and gentle breeze promised a day to remember.

Immediately, a Wood Stork soared overhead. I recognized its black, bald head and large white wings tipped in a band of black. It felt good to identify a bird on my own.

Imagine our delight when we moved into “Out of Africa” with throngs of birds on snippets of land. And flocks of birds scattered from their position on the land and filled the sky with scurrying birds in flight. Or the discovery of a new bird perched on a blade of marsh, or secreted away in the shadows of ancient live oaks or cedars along the banks of St. Catherines Island.

We discovered so many glorious things when we took a moment to look and smell and touch and “really” see.

Breathing in, then exhaling, we let our thoughts tumble like the changing tides.

“This is the life,” Meredith cooed, and we agreed. “There’s a lot to be said about going with the flow.”

When the dolphin surprised us in the very high tide, we felt blessed since it was much easier to spot them at low tide when they were feeding. Amazing.

On this tour, we eased along the banks of St. Catherines, with Captain Wild Bill, who has fished and toured these waters since 1981, pointing out birds, fish, butterflies, and trees along the way. We explored virgin areas where he’d never been.

“It has been lots of trial and error,” he admitted. “When you find out things the hard way, you really learn them well.” He grinned.

At an undisclosed spot, thousands of bait fish, Pogies, swam just below the water’s surface. Occasionally, one jumped into the air like a silver flash. A silver and white striped Sheepshead brought out Wild Bill’s excitement and a fishing pole, along with Redfish rippling the water.

But with the sounds of Jimmy Buffett playing in the background, we moved on by massive cedars and live oaks with their roots exposed at the water’s edge. Magnolias loaded with white blossoms stood next to native palms, tall Georgia pines, and Loblolly Pines – all shaped by water, wind, and storm. We watched for deer. The songs of birds, in the quiet, sounded like the edge of a zoo or an earlier day in time.

We passed by Black Needlerush, a grass-like perennial, sparkling silver in the sunlight; close enough to see the film of pollen on the water.

“There’s a Great Blue Heron,” Wild Bill said, pointing out a large bird that could serve as a modern day pterodactyl in flight. It flew from one tree to another in the distance. I’d seen the stately bird with the blue-gray plumage cruising the coastline with head tucked and long legs trailing. They seemed to move slowly until striking like lightning to catch a fish.

Today, I just marveled at their beauty and how they really did make me think of pterodactyls. The sight definitely transported me in time to dinosaur days.

The heavy woods gave off the spooky vibe. My imagination could run wild, wondering what might be hidden in the thick foliage. But wasn’t that part of the mystique of the coast? Its ability to inspire our minds to the possibilities? Worked for me.

“What’s that one?” I asked, motioning toward a bird perched on a branch in the shadows of a tree.

Captain Wild Bill strained to see the bird in the dark spaces of the live oak.

“That’s a Black-crowned Night-Heron,” he answered and pointed to the black cap and back, gray wings, and the white underparts. “It has a short neck and thick black bill,” he said.

Immediately, I knew he was right from a birding trip and from pictures I’d seen of the medium sized, stocky heron that seemed hunched over to me when perching on a branch.

At high tide, it was interesting to look at the island’s landscape with its thick forest positioned up to the water line. Occasionally, we noticed the white shell heaps, Indian midden, a reminder of the Indians who lived here before us.

The highlight came at the end of the trip as we headed home. In the distance, Captain Wild Bill spotted something of interest and guided the boat in a little different direction. I couldn’t see anything, and I’d already started thinking of things I needed to do once we arrived back at home.

But he insisted. “It will only take a minute or two longer.”

And oh what an incredible extra minute or two.