Feathers, Fierceness, and Finding Strength in the Wild May 17-18, 2025

This past weekend was a rollercoaster—emotionally and weather-wise. One moment the sun peeked through, the next I was dodging rain. But through it all, I pushed myself to keep going, to step outside, and to witness the lives of wild creatures unfold. And what I found were powerful reminders of strength, healing, and perspective—delivered feathered and fierce.

I ventured up island to an estuary I’d never explored before. The moment I stepped out of the car, a bald eagle soared overhead, wings stretched wide against the sky. My breath caught. It reminded me that when I get too tangled in my thoughts, I need to rise above them—to see things from a higher perspective. To remember that I, too, have strength and fierceness within me when I tap into my inner eagle.

The air was alive with birdsong, though the birds themselves were hard to spot through a fluttering wall of golden autumn leaves. But then I heard it: the raspy cry of a baby bird. I scanned the trees until I found the source—a plump, fluffy baby being fed by a tiny but determined mother. She flew back and forth, tirelessly delivering meals with increasing gaps between feedings. The message was clear: soon this baby would be on its own.

And just like that, I was reminded of my own mother. Of how she raised me strong, then set me free. The grief hit hard in that moment, bubbling to the surface. But I stayed with it, breathed it in, and kept going.

Tiny fledglings filled the boardwalk and beach with life—fluffy balls of feathers stretching their wings, testing flight in the salty breeze. They’d dart out from their nest, flit across the open air, then quickly tuck back into the safety of home before venturing out again. This young House Sparrow, still wearing its baby fluff, stole the show. Just look at the incredible colors and intricate patterns beginning to emerge—proof that even in their earliest days, these little ones are already stunning.

And what they taught me was powerful: With each trip from the nest, they grew braver. They took their time to observe where they were, to feel the moment—but they didn’t let fear stop them. They took the leap. Again and again. And watching them reminded me that I can too.

As I scanned the shoreline, something subtle caught my eye—a soft movement on a weathered log. It was a Eurasian Collared-Dove, perfectly camouflaged against the muted tones of the driftwood. If it hadn’t moved, I might have missed it entirely. I quickly raised my camera and captured a few quiet frames before it gracefully took off into the sky. A gentle reminder that beauty doesn’t always shout—it often waits in stillness, blending into the world around it.

Did You Know?

Eurasian Collared-Doves are one of the fastest expanding bird species in North America! Originally from Asia and Europe, they were accidentally introduced to the Bahamas in the 1970s and quickly spread across the U.S. and into Canada. Despite their soft coo and gentle appearance, these doves are strong fliers and highly adaptable, often thriving in urban and semi-rural areas. Their subtle grey-beige plumage and black neck collar help them blend into their surroundings—perfect for avoiding predators and surprising photographers!

Later that day, I stopped at another park where two Canada Goose families were swimming with their goslings in the ocean. I sat on a bench and watched these tiny balls of fluff bravely bob through waves, guarded by vigilant parents who take no nonsense from anyone. It’s no wonder Canadians jokingly call them “cobra chickens.”

I’ll admit, I didn’t always like Canada Geese—but the more I observe them, the more I respect them. They’re outspoken, majestic, fearless, and fiercely protective. Maybe I’ve found another spirit animal. Cobra Chicken energy? I’ll take it.

Did You Know?

Canada Goose goslings can swim just 24 hours after hatching! These fluffy little adventurers are guided by both parents and can often be seen paddling through lakes, rivers—even coastal ocean waters—shortly after birth. Their down keeps them buoyant, but they rely entirely on their parents for protection and warmth in those early weeks. Ocean waves don’t intimidate them—they ride them like pros!

Next, I headed to the shoreline hoping to spot some shorebirds. The universe delivered—this time, in the form of a Great Blue Heron. One of my absolute favorite birds. As I stood there, a quiet inner voice whispered: slow down… take a video. Thankfully, I had my tripod and external monitor in the car.

I crept slowly to the water’s edge, careful not to disturb the heron—whom I’ve named Hans. Hans the Heron acknowledged me with a glance, then returned to his morning hunt. I hit record just in time to capture something magical: not one, but two huge flat fish gulped down whole in quick succession! I was electrified. Just Hans and me, locked in a quiet rhythm.

When people started arriving, Hans glanced toward the crowd, and I took the cue to respectfully leave.

Good job Hans!

Back at the car, I was buzzing with joy. That moment alone made the whole day. My first real wildlife video—and what a scene it was. Reflecting on it, I realized Han had taught me something important: slow down. Be present. That’s where the magic happens.

My final stop of the day was a park known for its purple martins, though none showed up. Instead, a group of red-winged blackbirds took center stage. They were calling loudly, chasing each other, and striking confident poses in the golden light. Their energy filled the air with life.

Did You Know?

Male red-winged blackbirds aren’t just black—they sport bold, fiery red and yellow shoulder patches called epaulets. These vibrant flashes are used to impress females and intimidate rivals. The more vivid the color, the more dominant the male appears. During confrontations, males fluff up their epaulets to appear larger and more threatening—but when they’re relaxed or sneaking into another male’s territory, they often hide them to stay unnoticed. Talk about using color as confidence!

As I watched, one blackbird in particular stood out—a dedicated dad catching dragonflies for his young, hidden in a nest tucked into the bulrushes. He flew back and forth, tirelessly hunting and delivering food. It was incredible to witness. Pure nature in motion.

Birds are such hard workers. Watching them reminded me that I am too. That I matter. And that the time, energy, and heart I pour into my photography and writing has meaning.

And just as I was wrapping up, Hank the Hummingbird made a glorious appearance. Perched alone, glowing with shades of red, coral, and gold, he surveyed his domain like a tiny king. While the blackbirds flew chaotically around him, Hank stayed still, soaking in the sun. We shared a quiet moment—just the two of us. He even attracted some delighted onlookers, though he remained hard to spot. Watching him reminded me that even the smallest among us can be mighty. You don’t have to shout to shine. YOU can thrive just by being unapologetically yourself.

This weekend wasn’t about the perfect photo. It was about presence. About noticing the subtle lessons nature gifts us when we make time to really watch and listen.

Stay tuned—my video of Hans the Heron is coming soon.