There’s a rare birding phenomenon that happens every spring at Wakodahatchee Wetlands in Delray Beach, Florida. The 50-acre preserve turns into a full-fledged nursery, chock full of nests, eggs and chicks anxious for their next meal.
Baby Wood Stork
The unique thing about the Wakodahatchee Wetlands is access and diversity. You don’t even need binoculars or a telephoto lens to see the nesting Wood Storks, Great Blue Herons, Anhingas, Great Egrets, Green Herons and more.
You can stand under a shaded gazebo on a boardwalk 12 feet from the action. This is not a zoo, but it sure feels like one.
On two visits to Wakodahatchee in the past week, Anhinga chicks wrapped their necks around their moms’ so tightly it was hard to tell one from the other. Great Blue Heron babies are simply comical with oversized eyes and feathers like dandelion fluff. But it was the dozens of newly hatched Wood Storks who stole the show.
Storks feed their young by squirting “pre-digested” fish directly into their mouths. And when these downy chicks are hungry, everybody hears about it. Disproportionately large yellow beaks fling wide open, and you can even see their tiny tongues as they cry.
Great Blue Heron chick
Bawling Wood Stork chicks sound oddly like distressed human infants. When one starts up, they all join in. It’s loud, and just as things start to get obnoxious, the mother Stork reaches over with a long pink toe and strokes the baby. Ornithologists call this “comforting behavior” — pretty much what any good Mom would do.
Wood Storks breed for life, and at least one parent stands guard at all times to shade the chicks and sprinkle water over them if they need cooling off. They’ll also intervene if a Great Egret from a nearby nest happens to get too close.
Here’s a video that puts you in the middle of the action:
I spotted the hawk from about 50 feet away, perched on a dead tree where he could watch over the Central Florida marsh as if he ruled the place.
As the climate has changed, the Ibis has slowly expanded its reach. You can find them as far north as the Carolinas, depending on the season, as this map from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology shows.
They’re not hard to spot; that’s partly because of their long, pink beaks they use to sift for crustaceans, fish and insects, and partly because they’re rarely alone. They fly, feed – and just hang out – in groups of dozens of birds.
To celebrate the holidays, we offer this memorable moment with a Pileated Woodpecker who looks like he’s posing for a Christmas card.
Was the 12-month campaign powerful enough to make a difference on behalf of endangered species, or will it turn out to be mostly a memorial to an era of plentiful birds that’s slowly disappearing?
The Year of the Bird was accompanied by a flow of stories, photos, videos and essays from National Geographic that took readers on a tour of the front lines of birding. The magazine launched its contribution with an essay by novelist and expert birder Jonathan Franzen, who took on the question of 
