(This is what happens when the parent night-herons aren't around.)
When I arrive Papa Yellow Crowned Night Heron is standing on the side of the nest, asleep.
The chicks are asleep in the nest.
But then, quick as a snap of my fingers, the young bundles wake. Papa's beak-point-skyward response makes me think he is making a bit of an "Oh Lordy, the kids are up" gesture.
In a Papa-night heron mimic or chick-waking feed me, feed me gesture—chick says, "I can do that, too."
Maybe it is mimicry.
What is clear—the chicks are up.
Papa night-heron stretches his wings. I'm going to fly this coop.
Wait, wait. We'll settle down.
He flies in the direction of fiddler crabs. He'll be back in about an hour if it's like other times I've observed.
When he leaves, the chicks get active. Real active.
They first step on the edge of the nest. They step out of the nest. (The nest is about 30 feet up in a Slash Pine tree.)
There's wing-flapping.
One flapper ignites another flapper!
These siblings stick together.
I can't contain my laughter. It seems as if they are standing on the edge and flap-hopping into the nest. Sort of like jumping on the bed when the parents aren't home.
They take turns. (Sort of.) There are a few (what appears to be) friendly beak pokes.
Exploring, a few of the chicks fly-hop on the tree branches supporting the nest. This makes me nervous! I don't want to make another trip to Wildlife, Inc.!
Sometimes they cheer each other on.
(I'm counting on you knowing that this is all projection—you know, my imagination creatively adding narrative to this observation.)
As quick as it all starts, it ends. Perhaps exhausted from play, the chicks plop in a restful heap inside the nest.
There they stay, though twice raise up, perhaps looking for parent night-herons and that fiddler meal.
May 14, 2019
