St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge (01/2014)

I was in the Florida panhandle to see Operation Migration bring juvenile whooping cranes to Florida where they will spend the winter at the St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge.

My car has a little snow thingy to let me know it is COLD outside!  (I don't see it too often!)

 
The ground was COVERED in snow!

 
Here at the town of St. Marks, everyone was very excited to see these cranes come in.  A lot of people turned out just to see them fly overhead for a couple minutes.   I love the support that Operation Migration receives.  They are a group that is dedicated to seeing this endangered species survive.
 
 
 
Unfortunately, the cranes were a little cranky this Saturday morning and didn't want to fly (hey, I was cranky too getting up so early on a cold morning!).  So, they didn't come in today.  Being it was a nice day, I headed over to the St. Marks Wildlife Refuge.  It is a beautiful place that I have never been to before!
 
The sun was so pretty coming up over the refuge.
 
 
It's a great day when the first thing you see is the granddaddy of all raptors: the bald eagle.
 
 
 
There's no bad view here.

 
 
At the end of the road through the refuge is the St. Marks Lighthouse. 

 

 
This is a little hiking area behind the visitor center.  It has a nice boardwalk and is a very easy, short hike. It was pretty back there.


 
 
Glorious day!
 
 
I am glad I have my warm [silly] hat on. 
 
 
 
This wildlife refuge is a mecca for birds.  There are so many different wading birds.  There are also a lot of ducks, which I wasn't able to identify (I don't know that much about ducks).  I loved seeing all the birds.
 
An egret who really didn't mind me taking his close-up.

 

 
A cute little kingfisher

 
Pelicans, herons, gulls - they are all here.

 
He looked cold!



 
Blue heron

 
Pondering life.

 
A pelican flying in.

 
A little blue and a snowy

 
I came here on two different days, and these little guys were in the EXACT same spot both days!

 
I enjoyed this beautiful wildlife refuge! I can't wait to come back!

 
 
The next day, fortunately, was a good fly day for the whooping cranes.  The crowd was much smaller, but nonetheless enthusiastic to see these magnificent, endangered creatures come to their winter home in Florida.  Congratulations to OPERATION MIGRATION for yet another successful year of protecting and ensuring the survival of these beautiful cranes!

** ** ** ** ** **
Eight juvenile Whooping Cranes who have travelled (behind an ultra-light plane) from Wisconsin to Florida to spend the winter were ready, willing and able to fly this morning.  A nice little group of spectators were at the San Marcos de Apalache Historic State Park, in St. Marks, Florida, bright and early to witness this amazing event. 

When the ultra-light plane with the whooping cranes following it comes into your view (with a grown man flying the plane wearing a bird suit), it makes your heart stop.  I have never seen such a dedicated bunch of folks like those at Operation Migration.  Their one and only goal is to preserve this amazing endangered species.  I have been coming to see this for many years, and it only gets better and better.  I love what they do.

Operation Migration's website:  http://operationmigration.org/






 
An intruder!







 
 
And, off they go to spend the winter at their new home at the St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge.  When the weather gets warmer, they will fly back to Wisconsin - then migrate to Florida by themselves next winter.
 

 
 There is always a second pilot.  If one of the birds drops out or becomes wayward, he goes and brings it back.  This is that second pilot.

 
I was very happy I am afforded the opportunity to witness this amazing event first hand (one of the perks of living in Florida).  
 
Take a few minutes and read the below from lead pilot Brooke Pennypacker, as he expresses what it is to lead these birds to Florida; it is very heartfelt.  Operation Migration's dedication is just unsurpassed.
 
FROM OPERATION MIGRATION's WEBSITE:
 
A Chinese proverb says “the longest distance in a great journey is the first step.” An OM proverb says, ”The longest distance in a journey is the last step” as the ever friendly weather gods push the prospects for the St Marks Flyover further and further across the first page of the 2014 calendar. And as everyone knows, close only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades. But there must be a proverb somewhere that says something to the effect that the second to last step in a long journey is so fast that if you blink you’ll miss it because that’s the way the last flight went.
 
Richard and I launched into the dark morning sky for the short flight to the pen while I wondered if there was such a thing as real day light in this part of the country. We rotate leads and this would be my last of the year, so I naturally expected a glorious morning filled, like the first one after the biblical creation, with all the benevolent colors of nature in attendance, nurturing clear emotions of hope, accomplishment and promise while a celestial band played wistfully in the distance. Not!
 
Before I could call my broker and instruct him to sell my stock in sunscreen, I was in front of the pen waiving my magic glove for the release as Geoff and Colleen swung open the pen panels for the second to last time and out roared that amazing cloud of white….like white doves from a magician’s top hat. The chicks were obviously as intent as I was to get the whole thing over with. We climbed together up towards a dark canopy and, assisted by a slight tailwind, we slid across the subdued, uninspiring landscape leading from Georgia to Florida.
 
But no matter. Today’s flight was not about the below but about the above. I sat blessed with a ringside seat watching in relaxed awe as the birds did their thing, moving with and about the trike wing with the accomplished grace mixed with a touch of insecure awkwardness of young ballerinas on stage at their first recital. First all eight on the left wing, then three and then four shifting over to the right. And after a while one slid directly in front of me, so close I could almost reach out and touch its tail as his wings cranked rhythmically in the warm air and his head looked side to side for acknowledgement. “Yes, #7. You’re very special. Now get your butt back in line with the others.”
 
How far these chicks have come since they were simple passengers contained in those little egg time capsules collected from the abandoned nests at Necedah and sent to Patuxent for their official beginnings. And amazingly, all the offspring of parents that have also made this journey years ago behind these strange aircraft. Then there are the faces…. the ones belonging to all the dedicated and skilled people who made this moment possible. Who truly cared. Some thoughts, if allowed, have the power to overwhelm and so can only be permitted to seep into one’s consciousness a little at a time, especially if one is sitting two thousand feet above good ol’ Mother Earth. If our flight log books were filled with awe instead of just hours, they would be full indeed.
 
Soon we were down, birds in the pen and again airborne to hangar the trikes. There is but a millisecond, maybe two, to savor the magic of my last lead for there is the next thing to be done, to scramble towards, always in ear shot of the ticking clock and its attendant responsibilities. Preparations for the next day’s Flyover and the day after that and the day after that…. all crowding out the present and turning it into the past with such speed that you wonder if it ever existed at all. But I guess “last leads” are like that. One step at a time.

_________________________________

MORE BEAUTIFUL WORDS FROM OPERATION MIGRATION's WEBSITE:

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take – but by the moments that take our breath away.

Maya Angelou

As the sun rose in the cloudy early morning sky over the secluded salt-marsh, three costumed handlers made their way from the blind out to the pen. The clouds began to break, and then opened just enough for the brilliant sun to shine through in a stream of light. It took a moment to catch my breath at the sight of it all. To our left several yards away in the salt-marsh, two adult Whooping Cranes from last year’s migration ‘class’ stood poised and alert. But to them, there must have been something familiar in the sight of the white costumed figures, for neither bird seemed alarmed, and both returned to feeding nearby. Two cranes in the wild. Two among a mere 400 or so in the wild: again my breath caught at the sight of their splendor.

It was the second day of the flyover attempt at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge, and we awaited the arrival of eight juvenile Whooping Cranes at the end of their first migration. It was an enormous honor and privilege to join two Operation Migration team members Joe Duff and Heather Ray in this, the final chapter, calling the young cranes down from the ultralight into the safety of their pen, where they would learn their final lessons before spring and their first wild migration north, on their own.

Out of the cloudy northeastern sky they came into view, first the trike, then eight small dots in pursuit, then two loud calls from the stretched, taut bodies of the wild Whoopers nearby as the noise from the trikes spread over the salt-marsh. “Breathe, Christine”, whispered Heather, as the juvenile cranes swept around and around, high above the pen, chirping in alarmed response as the ultralight and its costumed pilot gradually spiraled to an altitude beyond their reach. From Joe’s megaphone nearby came the brood call, a come-home signal to the young birds.

As their focus and attention transferred from the aircraft which they had followed for 1100 miles from Wisconsin, the brood calls and the promise of food and fresh water in this new place gradually won the juveniles over, and they began to land. The wooosssh of their powerful wings as they came in just over my head was as thrilling a moment as I can recall – an endangered species, trusting us to help them take the final step to freedom, into the wild.

The three of us began to coax the somewhat anxious cranes into the top-net section of the pen, a safe haven for them for a few days until they are vet-checked and more acclimated to their new surroundings. Six cooperative birds walked cautiously into the smaller section of the three acre pen, while two had other ideas. They had not landed with the others, but instead, joined the wild adults. Joe and Heather left to coax them slowly back to the pen, and after a short time, with encouraging chirps from their buddies, they rejoined their comrades. Shortly after, the two wild cranes did their own flyover and skimmed the top-net pen, calling loudly.

I chose to see it as welcoming – and the excited frog-like adolescent croaks from the penned new arrivals supported my assumption. Hearing the exchange was another moment for me – and a tear or two of gratitude and joy rolled down my cheek – gratitude for the Operation Migration reintroduction project; gratitude for the vision and risk the pilots take every time they fly their mission and for the personal sacrifices the entire team makes throughout the year; gratitude that St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge has made a place for these birds to winter; joy that we three today bore witness to the success of the project as two wild cranes stood close at hand to welcome the newcomers; and finally, joy and gratitude that our collective effort to right the wrongs committed inadvertently years ago to the detriment of this magnificent species, has met with some success.

Let it continue to be so.
                                                                         Christine Barnes
 

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