Life Today at the Lake: Anhinga, Water Turtle Mother, Moor Hen Father

At the lake today, Nathan held the dogs for me while I got some fantastic shots of the young anhinga who has just come into her own and taken over her mother's place. I hadn't seen this one before last week--and haven't seen the older, mother, anhinga since the baby came out. Perhaps the mom is just on a short vacation and there will be two to watch soon.

From first of these four photos . . . top to bottom . . . I like the feeling of swift, silken . . . slip! . . . into the water.

Up until last week, I had only been able to glimpse rare appearances of the moor hens' chick families. These two teenagers, though, popped up last week--it looked like they were on their own. This week, though, I find that an adult is still keeping tabs on them. Even when I take steps towards them to get a closer look, neither of the two chicks care to enter the lake and swim away. The dad (my guess is that the mom is sitting on a second clutch of eggs at the moment) obviously loves and cares for them. The poor things are still quite ugly and bereft of true feathers. They display bounteous energy, though, so I assume that they are well fed and well-loved still.

One of the last adult ibis now living at the lake. There are a dozen or so brown junveniles, but the huge troop of white adults have completely disappeared. I haven't been visiting the lake long enough to be familiar with its seasonal rhythms, but I hope that they (along with the mother anhinga) will return soon.

I was taking photos of cattails along the edge of the lake when I turned around and saw this huge, glossy water turtle on the bank of the river. The only sight that I'd previously gotten of the lake turtles was a small point of nose above the water for an instant every now and then. This turtle, though, was not leaving her spot--even when I crouched down less than 5 feet away from her. I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why she wasn't moving. My first inclination was to think that she was hurt. She appeared fine, but was acting very strangely. Water turtle on land--people stopping to watch her--she is not budging from her spot.

Then I notice (I am slow on the up-take) that she is LAYING EGGS. It is a National Geographic special in real life. She dug with her hind legs--edged with flat, stiff finger-claws--and then waited until the tremors of eggs coming out had passed along the back edge of her shell. Then she dug again and waited--another half-dozen ripples along the back of her shell. Every time that Nathan or I moved--or anyone walked by on the sidewalk--she lifted her head and glared at us. I imagine that she probably felt like I would were I suddenly surprised in the bathroom by a gawking group of tourists who stopped to watch me and took pictures whenever I moved.

She was brave and a good mother--waiting until everyone was gone to finally retreat back into the water. The ground where she had so diligently and determinedly deposited her eggs looked only as if someone had taken a small broom and swirled the surface of the ground in small, light circles. Incredible.