No Flamingoes here
When we had a boat on Pleasure Island there was a nesting pair of Roseate Spoonbills at the foot of the bridge. Each year there seemed to be more until the city filled in the marshy area with dredgings from the Intercoastal Canal and put up picnic tables—a feast for the hordes of mosquitoes–swamp ones–the ones that chew –not bite.
When my father—from Wisconsin–first saw them, he called them flamingoes.
I had missed seeing them as they are so distinctive.
At Anahuac last week we spied one flying over the marsh but weren’t quite quick enough to get off a photo shot. However, yesterday the birds were busily working their way through the marshes for their lunch. My little Canon has some zoom on it and I wanted to get closer but the walk around the levee was more than I could do–able to walk only about ten or so minutes and stand about three. Hopefully all that will change next month.
Sylvia Weir Art 