A visit to Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge

There is a wonderful sense of anticipation that invests any daybreak outing to photograph birds—the cool morning air seems fresher than usual, and the prospect of spending a few hours communing with nature is always invigorating.  This is true even when the venue for the outing is familiar ground within ten or fifteen miles of home.  But the excitement intensifies with greater distance, which is why the hour-and-a-quarter drive from Daytona Beach Shores to Black Point Drive in the Merritt Island Refuge generated such a considerable buildup of emotion.  It was a clear day in April, perfect for birding, but I have to admit that the feeling of anticipation, for a photographer, comes tinged with anxiety.  Investing significant time in the drive down and back from a venue brings with it a certain amount of pressure to obtain results.  Nature offers no guarantees about what birds might be present and what birds might not.  Those four or five great images that one hopes to come home with just might not materialize.

I arrived at Black Point Drive, then, fully understanding that, though it was unlikely, there was a real possibility of coming up dry.  As it turned out, the only thing dry was the landscape.  Central Florida had been without rain for a few weeks, and the shallow waters I would have expected to see to the left of the road (westerly, in the direction of the Indian River) had been replaced by parched and cracking shingles of soil.  There would be no wading birds to ferret out and photograph in that direction.  The wide ditch to the right of the road still held water, but with no birds in view, I doubled my speed (from five mph to a brisk ten) on the dusty white gravel, starved for any sign of significant avian activity.  A Tricolored Heron appeared, and then a pair of Pied-billed Grebes.  But these were not the birds I was targeting.

Suddenly, before I realized what section of the twisting road I had reached, I came upon a broad expanse of water to my right.  On that stage, the cast of characters was already displayed that would make this one of the most remarkable outings of my photographic life.  They were there in numbers—Black-necked Stilts, Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs, and Reddish Egrets wading in an area that, under normal circumstances, I would easily have recognized as a prime area for these and other birds.  It had snuck up on me in the unfamiliar look of the parched landscape. 

I parked among cars from Canada, New York, and Ohio.  Among those visitors were a couple of photographers, and we all warmed to the task of photographing birds who were within easy range of our long lenses.  There was considerable interest in a ten-foot gator sunning itself on the bank of the ditch that extended north out of the area, but the presence of a gator is hardly news to a seasoned Florida photographer.  (They are so commonplace that I once came within a foot or two of stumbling over one while totally engrossed in what was transpiring in my view finder.  Who’d have blamed him for taking a bite out of my leg?)  There to the north, my interest was in a Greater Yellowlegs that was emerging from the ditch into the broader expanse of the little bay.  I was getting better shots of that species than I’d ever been able to obtain before.  Coming from the other direction were several Black-necked Stilts, and, in a light breeze, the water was proving to be an excellent background for those shots.  The Stilts display a unique delicacy of motion that translates well in a photograph of the bird wading.  (Not so much in flight shots.)  The pinkish-red legs add a colorful and highly photogenic feature to the contrasting black and white of the Stilt’s head and body.

The light, as is so often the case on Black Point Drive, was superb.  Arriving at nine o’clock, I had nearly two hours of quality sunlight before the noonish glare began to set in.  That was fortunate, for, back to the south, in the direction from which I had driven, a Reddish Egret was drawing the attention of one of my fellow photographers.  I hustled down there to join the fun, and we followed the bird for half an hour as it worked its way along the bay.  No terrific shroud shots, alas, but I did get an action shot that gives a sense of the incredible athleticism of this bird.  Larger than a Snowy Egret but equally agile, the Reddish Egret streaks first one direction and then another in pursuit of small fish, capturing them with that long and powerful beak.  I cannot think of a bird that is more entertaining to watch and to photograph. 

Once I’d had my fill of shooting the Reddish Egret, I spent some time shooting a pair of American Moorhens and then packed it in for the day.  My fellow photographers and I agreed that it was one to remember.  The drive back home (beginning in the direction of the Kennedy Space Center and then turning north to pick up US1 after several miles) found me full of anticipation, again, this time at the prospect of selecting the best shots from the day’s catch.  That process begins with transferring the photos from the Nikon D750 to my iMac (using Nikon Transfer 2) and then importing the RAW images into a Lightroom catalog (using Lightroom Classic) for editing.  It’s a labor of love to capture, edit, and share the best images I can obtain of these wonderful creatures.  Little wonder that my wife and I consistently contribute to the Nature Conservancy to further their efforts to protect and maintain critically endangered habitat for our birds.  May they be with us forever.