For a bird so gawky and lanky, the male Roseate Spoonbill in my viewfinder moved with surprising grace and tenderness. He hovered over his nesting mate, then leaned this way and that until she finally stood up and showed off her work:
Several bright white eggs, just weeks from hatching, filled the nest.
It’s a scene we almost never get to see. Spoonbill rookeries are usually hidden on distant mangrove islands or deep in impenetrable wetlands. But with a little luck, a 600-millimeter lens, and just enough of a break between the surrounding palms trees, I was able to study this pair without them ever suspecting they had an audience.
They’d chosen a crowded spot for their home, tucked into thick foliage a few feet above the water. With plumage at its breeding-season peak, the two were a riot of red, pink, and rouge. At times, they seemed barely able to stay out of one another’s way, their long, bulbous bills extending whichever direction they turned.
This was the only visible nest in this swampy marsh known as Orlando Wetlands in Christmas, Florida. But our couple was not alone. Everywhere you looked, spoonbills were flying overhead, lifting off and coming in to land; around 150 spoonbills have taken up residence over the past couple of decades, with the first robust colony coming in 2020. The 1,200-acre spread now hosts several rookeries, each contributing to a story that stands out in the bird world.
Moving north to safety
We’ve been following spoonbills for years up and down the southern Atlantic Coast. At first, we were drawn by their sheer beauty, paired with their awkward, almost comical proportions. Especially in flight, they look uncannily like the dinosaurs they descended from some 60 million years ago.
Then we discovered a surprising trend. Once largely confined to Florida Bay at the southern tip of the state, rising tides and deteriorating water quality are forcing spoonbills to look for new territories.
That’s no small challenge in a state with rampant coastal development. But spoonbills have proved to be remarkably resourceful and flexible. They’ve found new nesting sites—mostly inland, away from development—shifting from saltwater to freshwater habitats as sea levels rise.
They settled first in Central and North Florida, then in Georgia, and now as far north as the Carolinas. “They are an ancient race of birds, so they’ve been through this before,” Dr. Jerry Lorenz, a longtime spoonbill expert with Audubon Florida, told us. “They know how to get out of the way of rising water.”
As the spoonbill population has boomed, Orlando Wetlands has become a tourist attraction for the birds. “Many visitors tell us they are their favorite birds,” said Rachel Kessler, Water Reclamation Program Supervisor at the wetlands. “They come from out of town, out of state and out of the country just to see these beautiful and interesting birds.”
Setting up house
And for the spoonbills, the wetlands have turned out to be a good place to find a mate.
Like people, Roseate Spoonbills court in part by giving gifts. What they need most for their nests are sticks—and that’s what males present to show their worth. During our visit to Orlando Wetlands, we spotted several spoonbills flying by with branches clamped in their bills, presumably still on the prowl.
The highlight of the day came when the female hopped off the nest and allowed her mate—and us—to glimpse the eggs. She wasn’t entirely satisfied with their placement. One by one, she nudged them, inspected them, then nudged them again.
Finally, she settled back down, this time facing the opposite direction. Her mate circled a few times, then took up his post, standing over her like a sentry. He looked every bit the expectant father, ready to do whatever was needed to watch over their growing family.
A water plant turned spoonbill haven
At first glance, the Orlando Wetlands doesn’t sound like a wildlife refuge. It was built to polish reclaimed water — an advanced treatment wetland designed to improve water quality before it flows back into the St. Johns River system.
But along the way, these marshlands have become a near-perfect home for Roseate Spoonbills.
Spoonbills first started coming to the wetlands in 1990, and then gradually grew in numbers as part of the broad shift north in the populations until today the birds are spread all over the grounds. “They have returned year after year in large numbers,” said Rachel Kessler, the Water Reclamation Program Supervisor.
Why here?
Water, done right: The wetlands’ primary mission is clean water. Managing flow and levels for water treatment inadvertently creates the shallow, productive feeding zones spoonbills love — rich with shrimp and small crustaceans that give the birds both sustenance and their famous pink hue. “A healthy ecosystem with a diversity of native plant and animal life is the foundation that supports the wildlife,” Kessler said.
Ready-made nesting islands: Cypress domes, cabbage palms, and dense elderberry provide elevated, protected rookery sites above the waterline — close to food, but safely removed from land predators.
And an unlikely security force: Alligators, too, are spread all over the wetland, sunning themselves on the banks, half submerged in the marshes, gliding along in the water.
Orlando Wetlands Manager Mark Sees, who has overseen the growth of the system, said it turns out the gators are good for the spoonbills. “That may seem counter intuitive, but the spoonbills need the gators to provide protection from egg predators such as raccoons, bobcats and snakes.”
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