Following the White Pelicans to Texas for the Winter

     Rarely am I content to remain at a campsite for more than a few days. But I have found one. Just over the Wisconsin border, on the Mississippi River, is the Thomson Causeway Recreation Area campground (click here for map).
     Because there are many islands in the middle of the river, the river is diversified, spreading over a mile wide across the terrain. On the Iowa side, the river is a shipping channel, but on the Illinois side, it's a wetlands area called Potters Marsh. 

     Potters Marsh is a haven for wading birds such as the Great White Egret (in the Heron family). Many huge frogs and turtles live here, too. At night, about three dozen large frogs hop around the campground road.

     My camp site (see La Lair, center left) is located at the very end of a little peninsula. The main river is to the west (Iowa side) and Potters Marsh is to the east (Illinois side). In other words, my front yard is 270 degrees of a beautiful diversified river.

     Since I arrived mid-week after the busy Labor Day Weekend, there were few camp mates nearby. Just big beautiful trees behind me and water, water everywhere in front of me.

     My favorite bird, the Great White Pelican, migrates from the Montana and Canada corridors down through the Mississippi, enroute to Texas and Louisiana's Gulf coast for the winter. In photo below, the Pelicans are in front. Behind the pelicans is a flock of Great White Egrets. They're both white and large and eat fish, but have nothing else in common. Pelicans have webbed feet and swim, herons don't. See how the Pelican on the right spreads its webbed feet before it lands on the water? Egrets land on logs, posts, or shallow waters; they are similar to cranes which also can't swim.

     Herons are solo fish catchers. They stalk fish like a cat stalks a mouse. They slowly pick up each leg and place it in front of them, as if "You didn't see me get closer to that little fish, did you?" See how the heron rotates it black leg back and then lifts it up out of the water and gently places it forward?

     But the White Pelicans prefer to herd a school of fish. They need each other in a flock swimming on the water with a bit of speed, like cowboys herding cattle. The bigger the flock the better, to get their school of fish going. They scoop fish with their baggy beaks and eat them up, eating on the run! Sometimes the whole flock will change direction 180 degrees because the school of fish have turned around to evade the flock! I love everything about the White Pelican, the way it flies gracefully, barely flapping its wings, in a flight pattern similar to geese. I love the way it feeds, and the way it lands on the water by spreading and then gently braking with its webbed feet on the surface of the water for a smooth landing.

    

     Most folks are familiar with the Brown Pelican at seashore locations, but there are huge differences between these pelicans. With a few rare exceptions, brown pelicans don't migrate. The brown ones are more year-round residential birds and they've become opportunistic feeders near humans, looking for free meals from boaters who are cleaning their fish. White Pelicans wouldn't accept hand-outs or even approach boats or humans. They're truly wild birds. I learned years ago not to paddle near them, to respect their privacy. They fly away if I get too close, and I've wrecked their chance to feed and relax on their migration route.

     So with this panoramic view of water, water everywhere, and a flock of Great White Pelicans and White Egrets, now comes the grand finale, the sunset to the west.

     And behind me to the east, the reflections of the setting sun over Potters Marsh.

     This particular night, the sunset's ever-changing colors and clouds lasted about one hour which is exceptionally long for a sunset.

     But the Chinese proverb of yin and yang plays out here. A strong rain storm swept through the northern central plains while I camped here. I'm feeling the angst crop farmers must be experiencing right now. Watching healthy crops (sort of like watching an 8-month pregnant woman) being wrecked in a couple hours of torrential rains and then having nothing to show, nothing to harvest, after a year of endless work days and paying interest on loans, is heart-wrenching. For a couple days, this was my view from La Lair's front window.

     Today I leave this beautiful camp site. I'll be loosely following the White Pelicans to my winter home in Texas.