Roseate What?

While technically a subtropical rather than a true tropical climate, west central Florida (on the Gulf of Mexico) hosts a similarly impressive variety of species as tropical zones. According to the science, the high temperatures characteristic of tropical and subtropical zones cause metabolism, ecology, and evolution to move along at much higher rates than in temperate zones, leading to a step up in biodiversity compared to other climates.  

Of the many things that grow and thrive in my neck of the Florida woods (Clearwater, near Tampa), my favorites are the many different types of shorebirds that live along the ocean beaches, estuaries, and bays.   With the possible exception of the seagull (the oceanside relative of the camp robber), I like them all.  It seems impossible to pick a favorite shorebird.  Who doesn't feel awestruck by the sight of the solitary and majestic, great blue heron?

Or amused and amazed at the snowy egret with its bizarre mating plumage?

Or struck with cuteness at a gaggle of adorable little plovers motoring along the sand at a million miles an hour?

While all of these wonders of nature cause me to stop for a moment in this busy world and gawk, one shorebird in particular stimulates an exceptional case of the WOWs. The first time I saw this bird was in captivity at a spring about an hour north of Tampa Bay. Once a train station, then an exotic animal tourist attraction, and finally a state park, Homosassa  Springs State Park is perhaps best known for opportunities to view manatees who come to the springs in winter to escape the frigid Gulf waters.  But the park is also home to hundreds of birds who are no longer able to survive on their own in the wild.   And that is why and where I met my very first Roseate Spoonbill.  

A Roseate What???

Well, that's exactly what I said the first time I saw a few of these birds hanging out in the protected areas of Homosassa.  The Roseate Spoonbill is so named because it has a beak shaped like a spoon (that any sane person would tell you looks absolutely ridiculous). The utensil shaped bill is equipped with custom-made nerve endings that sense when prey has wandered too close and triggers the bird to snap its bill shut and swallow the prey whole.  Hence, a large number of hapless shrimp, crabs, and other crustaceans meet their demise while passing alongside a seemingly harmless utensil swaying back and forth in the ocean waters.  

After seeing a few of these odd birds at Homosassa, I assumed that I would never see one in the wild.   But, one day, while wandering down a trail along the bay in Clearwater, I looked up in the sky and what to my wondering eyes did appear?  A bird that I was fascinated by but for the life of me, could not remember what its full name was.  That glitch in memory didn't stop me from trying to draw my husband's attention to the pinkish flying spoon.   In the excitement of the moment, I couldn't recall the full name of this creature in flight over my head.  Instead, unable to control what was coming out of my mouth, I said:

"Look, Look!  Up there! It's a Roseate ... uh... umm.... oh, what is it... ugh... It's a Roseate Hootie Wooter"

From that moment, the poor Spoonbill earned a new nickname and on the rare occasion that I see one fishing or flying along the ocean shore, it remains a Roseate Hootie Wooter in my mind.  

The Roseate part of the Spoonbill's name comes from the fact that eating carotenoid-rich organisms (that is shrimp and related crustaceans, some algae) causes them to pink up. The more shrimp they eat, the pinker they get.  And they can get pretty high up there on the WOW! scale when they've had a sumptuous lunch replete with many shrimp.   The rich array of light pink, dark pink, and just pink colors on the wings of this odd bird is stunning.  

And unlike flamingos who also turn pink from what they eat, the Roseate Spoonbill is not a flying skunk (flamingoes have a nasty odor that derives from the fact that they urinate on their own legs to keep themselves cool in hot temperatures; thankfully, Spoonbills don't indulge in this practice). 

Every time I see a Roseate Spoonbill (or a Hootie Wooter, depending on how well my memory is working at any given moment), I have a WOW moment that adds a smile, laughter, and even joy to my day.  

The last time I enjoyed such a moment, I was watching the sun set over Clearwater Beach from the mainland side of old Clearwater Bay. I was lost in my own little world watching the last bit of sun disappear into the horizon. As I sat on my rock along the water, reluctant to get up even after the last light of sun had passed into the horizon, WOW came flying my way. Not one but THREE Roseate Spoonbills flew, north to south in the sky -- not a hundred feet from where I sat.  

This may sound like a weird WOW moment, but we all have our unique moments where our experiences on earth converge with God's presence, and we just stop where we are -- in silence and in awe. I may be weirder than most, but that's a topic for another day.   

Of course, I had to laugh first when I saw the flock of Spoonbills dashing across the sky, before settling into silence and awe.  

What was God thinking when He gave a bird a bill that looked just like a spoon?