Limping

It’s been a few since our last meeting, well, at least on the wild side. Brad was manning the sister sight while I hunkered down on the mothership to get caught up on the latest race posts. I recall B. from the UK requesting more gory details on this year’s failed 50K ultra trail attempt – well that is officially out there (link here). Warning it is “graphic”, but does answer B’s real question as to why you should NEVER run an ultra ha. On a better note, the Bix7 race recap is also published (link here). That road event went a whole lot better, but ended more emotional as it marked my official retirement from that race after 20 consecutive years.

Somewhat running related, I decided everyone could probably use a good laugh about now. Chaos has laid siege to headlines – the world’s on fire, drama is the rule rather than the exception and angst has consumed empathy. Time to smile at my expense ha. This morning I competed in the new TC .3 mile sprint. Did the recent Olympic events spur that commitment…no…did the glint of a finisher medal catch my eye…no…perhaps a personal misogi purification ritual (currently reading the Comfort Crisis) to rekindle the fast twitch leg muscle fibers long since forgotten…nope. Truth is it was the garbage truck. Normally our trash isn’t picked up until after 11:00am. The Monday morning routine, internal alarm clock rings, the covers are thrown back and jump into the day. Translated, Linda comes in and announces it is garbage day reinforcing her “Waker of the Dead” moniker earned at the last ultra race. Fast forwarding, I slapped on some slip in sloggers by the door and head out to the trash container – halfway there, the ears pick up the distinct beeping of the truck. Power walk the best I could in the loose shoes the 300 or so feet to the street – it had moved on to the neighbor. Mind you this is rural, so when I say neighbor, think at least a 10th of a mile. I started running down the middle of the road pulling the can behind me waving like a lunatic to get the driver’s attention. No luck, gets in truck and goes to the next one which is two 10ths past the last stop. Now I am sprinting..mind you it looks more like the ministry of silly walks because I’m hauling the can down the middle of the road trying to keep the damn shoes on while waving. THANKFULLY none of my neighbors saw me or I would have assuredly made it into the local newspaper – pretty sure I heard a couple of Deer yucking it up in the nearby trees. That stop had several cans giving me extra time to cover the ground. Not sure who was more startled, me for being able to run that fast in those conditions or the driver who kept looking at me and then back up the road where my driveway was. Apparently our previous driver quit and the new guy went back to the original order of the houses. I am here to declare that if the Olympics are willing to add Breakdancing, they need to look into Trash Can Sprinting for Los Angeles in 2028 – gonna get me a medal!!

Quite pleased with myself (although still glancing around to make sure nobody was watching beyond those heckling Deer) I limped back to the house dragging the now much lighter garbage can. Walked in the house and was met with “What the hell happened to you!?!”. “Well, I started training for the 2028 Olympics, but we should get better wheels on the trash can – now I must hydrate”. Linda simply turned and went about her day. Tells you something about the things she takes as normal when it comes to me hehehe. Hopefully your smile will last the rest of the day!

In honor of my post competition limp, let’s get to today’s featured feathered friend!

Hit the jump to read more about the “Limp”kins spotted on our trip last year through the Florida Panhandle.

There was a definite eruption of Limpkins last year. Linda and I had our first ever encounter during our January snowbird stay in Texas. On the way back we stayed at Brazos Bend State Park and discovered two Limpkins on the Live Oak Trail. Three months later we headed out east to swing through the Florida panhandle, catch a dog show near Gainesville and then head back to Dauphin Island for spring migration. In a previous post I talked about a place called Paynes Prairie Preserve State Park just outside of Gainesville (link here). After photographing that interesting Turtle, made my way to the boardwalk in hopes of seeing their famous residents (future post).

There was an individual standing at the railing with his binoculars at the ready surveying the marsh. Exchanged pleasantries and asked if there was anything good about. For the next 15 minutes learned all about a pair of Limpkins that had 6 or 7 chicks that had recently fledged from a nearby Cypress tree. He was an apparent local that had been watching them daily and noted they had left the nest just the day before. Quizzed on what that entailed, the answer implied more of a drop kick out of the nest into the swamp below. According to Cornell, their condition at hatching is able to swim, walk and run …they forgot to include skydiving. The local was not aware of where they currently were and was hoping they had survived the night – scary things lurk in the darkness.

Graciously thanked him for the sighting information and behavior education before moving further onto the boardwalk. Maybe 50 yards out came to a bend in the boardwalk and did a quick scan (again looking for a special resident). To my surprise, spotted two Limpkins out in the middle of the water/vegetation plucking various green stalks and placing them in a pile between them. As they circled they would randomly pause and stare in my direction. At first, though they were seeing their reflection in The Beast, but there was no outward aggression or really any reaction beyond a good look and then right back to work plucking stalks.

Appreciative of the accessibility of these two Limpkins, the finger was dancing on the shudder filling the tin as they constructed their raft. Finally decided I had my fill and turned to leave when my eye caught something directly below the railing. Took a minute to figure out what it was beyond an odd mass of dark fuzz. Could that be..yes, the recently fledged chicks happened to be right where I was standing. Mom and Dad were not so much hamming it for the camera, rather keeping a watchful eye on their new vulnerable additions.

Those with big glass are already aware of how hard it is to shoot something straight down and trying to get focus on these fuzzballs was about impossible. Countless shots hit the darkroom floor, but did manage to get some decent shots. The adult Limpkins was pretty cool, being able to see these cuties was the chef’s kiss. Those 6 chicks just sat there looking around seemingly fearless of their dangerous surroundings and the stranger pointing a bazooka at them. Did note they remained silent the entire time.

By now the adult Limpkins had created a decent sized raft now very visible as all the vegetation had been plucked around it. Pleased with their effort, one began walking directly at me. Concern set in as I had absolutely no idea how this was going to play out half expecting it might leap up on the boardwalk and peck my eyes out – these are BIG birds. Thankfully my brother Ron was not around as that would have increased the likelihood of an all out attack, rather it slowly made its way to the chicks, gave some kind of secret command to follow and started heading back to its mate. One by one, the chicks formed a straight line and followed the newly made path through the vegetation to the raft.

Each one made their way up the small incline and plopped down in the center. At this point it did become a bit of a herding Cats experience for the two adults. It appeared to be a coordinated effort by the chicks to maintain maximum annoyance to their parents. One of the chicks would bolt from the perch and head over to one of the adults that had re-initiated the stalk plucking work or take off in some completely. This escape attempt would cause one of the adults to stop what they were doing and gently persuade the runaway to return to the raft. One chick appeared to be the ringleader in this comedy sketch “Alright, you, on your feet and wait for my command, Mom and Dad aren’t looking…go, go, go”

We are not blessed with children, but I imagine this plays out in every household that does. Tirelessly, the parents continued their nest building delicately nestling stalks in the midst of the bundles of fur.

I later learned from another local that this raft construction is a means of protection from predators below the waterline. With that direction protected, the adults can focus on anything approaching from above or the sides which now have a more visible perimeter thanks to all the plucking. I can’t imagine how hard it is to raise these chicks to a self-sustainable age in that environment. According to this other local, Limpkins are extremely formidable in defense and will attack rivals or suspected predators with effective wing flapping, squawking and quick use of those long bills and talons.

It wasn’t until I walked further down the boardwalk that it really hit me what level of danger there was in this area … and soon learned just about every location we went to in Florida. There are some monster Alligators at Paynes. I’ve seen some big Gators in my lifetime, the ones here were definitely on the larger end of my personal experience scale and one of them managed to stop my heart thanks to a completely unexpected encounter by a bridge – again, another future post, but it has been a long time since I’ve been that close to a predator in the wild WITHOUT someone nearby to kneecap for survival.

Came across the first individual that told me about the chicks and happily relayed that I had found them and pointed out their location. With the recent encounter, asked him how these chicks had any chance of survival with those beasts patrolling the waters not far off. His take was that the Alligators did not really like the fuzzy chicks and tend to leave them alone adding additionally that they don’t really provide that much sustenance having little meat on their bones. Take that theory as you will, I remain skeptical based purely on that fact there is probably a Gator size that could depend on that morsel to survive. If our Florida readers have any insights, I would love to get some additional feedback on that.

I can happily report that these chicks survived the night. I brought Linda back without the boys the next day so she could see the local celebrities and witness these chicks. There they were, still sitting on the raft, now even bigger thanks to the overnight work of the adults.

I did want to include this next shot as the Limpkins primary food source can be seen in the lower left corner. I did not notice it when taking the shots, but there is a Snail there which I believe is the Apple variety. There is an invasive Snail showing up there as well that I cannot remember the name of. There is definite concern that this invasive species will impact the food source for the residents.

I just cannot get enough of these chicks!

Like someone slapped eyes, a bill and skinny feet on a black/grey furball.

Apologies on the long post, but wanted to share as much of the experience as I could. Additionally wanted to give you something to keep you entertained while the Intrigued staff are out of the office. Brad (and Jan) are currently on assignment in a region new to us here at Intrigued while Linda and I make a relatively quick run out to Kansas for a family event. Can’t wait to see what comes back in Brad and Jan’s tins! If I find time I’ll try and post from the road, otherwise we’ll catch you on our return.

Now time to go ice the legs to recover from that intense morning sprint ha!