SILENTLY INTO THE NIGHT

A CHRISTMAS BONUS
by Kurt Z

A hooded merganser moved into the area this week and can be seen hunting in the south pass of Clam Bayou in Gulfport, Florida. During our kayak trip today, the “hoodie” scattered schools of shad across the surface like shattering shards of a broken mirror. It moved quickly, neck outstretched and wings tucked tightly, following the school as they passed the oystercatchers sitting alone on the bar—no willets, no dowitchers, no matter. The oystercatchers sat quietly without so much as a peep or a whimper, letting us pass while primping, preening, and probing. The laughing gulls found nothing to laugh at, which I found odd—they usually have something to say to my amateur paddlers! The prehistoric squawk of the great blue heron, settled neatly on a mangrove perch, was quelled as we paddled near—too comfy to give up its perch today.
In Brandt’s Lagoon, the newly arrived limpkin stayed busy just beyond the hull, offering barely audible grunts of advice as it probed deep into the mud for delicacies. “Go for the ones with at least a hundred legs—they’re the best!” No clambering ducks, no kestrel in the pine, and not one peep from the osprey gliding overhead. Even the kingfisher, with its machine-gun chatter, only sputtered a few notes as it worked frantically over a school of shiners.
Clam Bayou’s art gallery, hosted yearly by the wintering pelicans, is off to a slow start. No “poo-painters” on the wall today, but evidence of their smelly work is taking shape. Our recent warm weather likely has them soaking up the sun on a beach somewhere—can’t blame them, really. Colder weather will come soon. A casual paddler drifted by with her puppy pal tucked neatly in a chest pouch. Both seemed content with the stillness of the day, offering minimal words as they tucked trash neatly into a sack. “Good form,” I said to Lady Rose! We can always use more “elves” around here.
The traverse into Marjorie Canal was reflective and serene. Night herons held tightly to their perches, staring at us through narrow, red-set eyes. We drifted within a paddle’s reach of an American egret, her brilliant white plumage pressed against the grassy green mangrove—the closest I’ll get to an image of snowfall this year. She graciously let us pass twice without so much as a neck stretch.
The slurping, sucking sounds from the muck in McIntosh Tunnel were only audible if you listened closely, and at that decibel range, you could almost hear throngs of spiders quietly nibbling on no-see-ums. It was nearing darkness when we emerged from the hammock to see the sun melting far beyond the beach buildings, shrouded in fog. Then the chatter began. It started low, then grew—the nightly migration of fish crows passed overhead, their Southern, pessimistic drawl—“Uh-uh” (I don’t wanna), “Uh-uh” (I don’t wanna)—reaching a crescendo and carrying through the silent corridors of the bayou. The aerial display of black depth stretched far beyond the borders of the bayou and continued on.
The kayak hull crunched the shells at the launch site just in time for my kind of holiday office party! Daily, with the setting sun at the Gulfport Municipal Marina, there’s a winged holiday celebration (and this year is bigger than ever). You can join the party and witness a huge flock of redwings, grackles, and starlings—scores of birds chatting away, milling about, and vocally celebrating togetherness. If you watch closely, you’ll notice the office hussy, casually dressed as an ibis, likely kibitzing with a finely dressed heron whose visit to the open (oyster) bar has his neck craning and weaving. Ah, what the heck—it’s Christmas, right? All at once, in no particular order, the turbulent swarm wings its way over the bayou. Like a black tornado, the swirl of birds spins and spirals downward, settling, falling, and squawking over a peaceful area nicely knitted with marsh grass and limbs. After a short period of clamoring, the party comes to a peaceful close. Darkness sets in, and if your patience is as strong as your bug spray, you too are welcome to experience a “real” silent night.


#ClamBayou #GulfportFlorida #Kayaking #NatureLovers #WildlifeWatching
#HoodedMerganser #Birding #Oystercatchers #LaughingGulls #GreatBlueHeron
#Limpkin #Kingfisher #Pelicans #AmericanEgret #NightHerons
#FishCrows #Redwings #Grackles #Starlings #Ibis
#Mangroves #FloridaWildlife #NaturePhotography #KayakAdventures #BirdMigration
#SunsetViews #MarshLife #EcoTravel #FloridaNature #SilentNight
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