In the plant line, we have saltmarsh fleabane (Pluchea odorata), swamp rose mallow (Hibiscus mosheutos), and our favorite, slender glasswort (Salicornia virginica). The glasswort is our favorite because all summer, you don’t see it. Its slender, green branches blend invisibly in the grass. When the cool weather of autumn sets in, though, it transforms into a scarlet red. The marshes appear to be dotted with colorful coral that somehow washed ashore.
While we have always loved plants and are avid gardeners, the diverse animal life is what fascinates us the most. Keith always thought pictures of wild turkeys (Meleagris gallopavo) were exaggerated to make them look bigger and prettier than they really are. When he saw his first male wild turkey strutting around with his tail feathers spread boastfully, he ranked the turkey right up there with a peacock for being majestically beautiful.
We also have been treated to animals we never knew lived in Maryland, or we knew they were supposed to be here, but in all our lives, had never seen one. The list includes the spotted turtle (Clemmys guttata), sika deer (Cervus nipal – though not native), indigo bunting (Passerina cyanea), and the bald eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus), just to name a few. Our two favorites are the wood duck (Aix sponsa) and the Delmarva fox squirrel (Sciurus niger cinereus).
The wood duck I saw once when I was a kid. Keith had never heard of one and when I described it like a brilliantly painted decoy sitting in the top of a tree, he didn’t believe me. “Do I look stupid?” he asked. “Ducks don’t sit in trees.” I had to pull up the wood duck on the Internet to prove to him that I wasn’t making up another one of my exaggerated tales.
Unlike the wood duck, which numbers in the millions, the Delmarva fox squirrel is endangered. Once roaming the woods from southern New Jersey through southeastern Pennsylvania, and down the entire Delmarva Peninsula, its range is now restricted to four counties on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, with Dorchester County boasting the largest population.
Last year, we searched for the wood duck and the fox squirrel to no avail. We even cruised through Blackwater Wildlife Refuge’s wildlife drive several times in search of these stars of Toddville. None were to be found. (See also Friends of Blackwater)
We noticed the great blue herons (Ardea herodias) beginning to don their mating plumage with their tell-tale hippy ponytail so I figured the wood duck must be coming into his mating plumage, too. The one I saw when I was a kid was dressed in full, flamboyant gear in the second week of March. The time had to be right to start looking.We paid our three dollars and slowly inched our way down the wildlife drive, carefully scouring the water and the trees for the elusive wood duck.
“Don’t forget to look in the trees, too,” I reminded Keith.
“Crazy birds. Whoever heard of ducks in a tree? Why couldn’t they be like normal ducks and swim in the water?”
“That’s why they’re called wood ducks.”
“Do you know how hard it is to keep my eye on the road and look in the water for this duck? Now I have to look in the trees, too? I’ll end up in the marsh trying to find this duck.”
“You concentrate on the driving. I’ll let you know if I see a duck.”
Slowly we crept along, but not a duck in sight. We stopped at the spot marked for wood ducks and walked out to the blind to check the nesting sites. No ducks. Nothing in the trees, nothing in the water, and nothing at the nesting sites.
We returned to the car. “Damn it,” I said. “No wood ducks last year and not a sign of them this year. When we get up here to the fox squirrel area, I better see one or I’m demanding my three dollars back.”
We slowly approached the wooded area where the squirrels were supposed to be. We inched along. A car passed us. Then another. And another. And one more. “These people!” exclaimed Keith. “They’re going to scare my squirrels away! Where do all these people come from anyway?”
We continued creeping along when Keith slammed his brakes. (No, I don’t know why he slammed them. We were barely moving as it was.) “There’s one!” he said excitedly.
“Where?”
“There,” he answered as he pointed into the woods.
I had no clue where he was pointing and I certainly didn’t see anything.
“See it?”
“No.” I no sooner answered when I saw it move.
“Is that one or is it a gray squirrel?”
I grabbed my binoculars to get a better look. It jumped up on a stump with its back to me. It’s long, thick, bushy tail streamed out behind it. “Yup, that’s one. You can tell because of its huge tail and it’s holding it straight, not curled like the gray squirrel does.”
We ogled the beautiful animal for many minutes, slowly following it as he headed on down through the woods before it disappeared. We were thrilled at finally seeing a fox squirrel, but we continued to creep along hoping to see another one, but closer to the road.
“I want to see one of the white or tan ones. I’ve never seen a white or tan squirrel before,” commented Keith.
We kept our eyes peeled to the forest floor. No squirrel in sight. As we neared the end of the woods, a squirrel moved in the leaves alongside the road. As calm as it could be, it shuffled through the leaves looking for food. We didn’t need the binoculars to see that it was definitely a fox squirrel. It wasn’t white or tan, but it was definitely a fox squirrel. Fox squirrels are normally shy, but this one didn’t seem to mind our presence. After a few minutes, he darted off into the woods. We continued our snail-pace trek looking for the wood duck.
We left the wooded area and rounded the curve to the marsh and open water area. Thousands of Canada Geese (Branta canadensis) filled the open fields, lined the shore, and gathered in the open water.
“We’ll never find a wood duck with all these dumb old geese around,” lamented Keith. “All these geese are probably eating all the food up.”
“Yeah, probably. Someone really needs to do something about this illegal immigration problem.”
“Huh?” Keith asked.
“They’re Canada geese, not Toddville geese. They should’ve kept their asses up there in Canada where they belong.”
“Oh Mark.” Keith sighed. After all these years, he still doesn’t always appreciate my humor, especially when he’s on a mission like trying to find a wood duck.
We slowly moved along. Canada geese. Canada. Geese. Canada geese. Great blue heron. Whoopee. Canada geese. Canada geese. Mallard. Double whoopee. Canada geese. Canada geese.
“Up there! What are those small birds swimming?” Keith couldn’t hide his excitement at maybe seeing his first wood duck.
“I don’t know. Get closer and I’ll take a look through the binoculars.”
We pulled up a ways and stopped. I focused my binoculars on a pair of ducks I had never seen before. “I don’t know what they are, but they are beautiful.”
Keith looked through his binoculars. “Wow. Are you sure they aren’t wood ducks? The male is so perfectly colorful he looks painted just like you said a wood duck looks like.”
“No, they aren’t wood ducks.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I know what a wood duck looks like.”
“If you didn’t tell me, I’d think that was a wood duck. Look how perfect its colors are. I’ve never seen such a beautiful duck.”
“It’s not a wood duck”
“Are you sure? It’s been a long time since you were a kid. Maybe you forgot what one looks like.”
“I’m sure. It’s not a wood duck.”
“Then what is it?”
I peered through my binoculars again. They were feeding so we got a good look at their rear ends as they bobbed their heads down to the bottom looking for food. “See how their tail feathers are crossed like a pair of scissors. Maybe it’s one of those pintails.”
“Oh yeah, they are crossed. Maybe you’re right.”
That answer was good enough to convince him that it wasn’t a wood duck, but later we found out
it wasn’t a pintail, either. It was the northern shoveler (Anas clypeata). Well, I never did claim to be an ornithologist.After staring at a few pairs of these beautiful ducks, we moved on to the final stretch of wetlands before exiting the wildlife drive.
Canada geese. Canada geese. Canada geese. All the way down, there was nothing but Canada geese. Someone really needs to do something about this illegal immigration.
As we exited the drive, Keith remarked, “It’s a scam that the refuge made up to make money.”
“Huh?”
“You said there’s over a million wood ducks. I haven’t seen one yet. Not last year and so far, not this year. There’s only a few thousand fox squirrels and I saw two of them today. The numbers don’t add up. There’s no wood ducks in this refuge. The rangers made up the story so people will pay their money to see something that isn’t here, but they’ll keep returning and paying, convinced that it must be here.”
“There’s wood ducks here, somewhere. I seen one when I was a kid. We just need to keep looking.”
“Yeah, sure you did. And I bet you think because people have claimed to see big foot in the marshes, he must be around here, too.”
“Once we find this dang wood duck, that’ll be the next thing we’ll look for.”
© 2007
Mark Darien
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