I Came for Baby Mergansers and Got a Vulture Buffet - June 20, 2026

Northern Flicker

Today’s photography adventure had one goal: baby mergansers.

That was the mission. The dream. The bucket-list bird moment I have been waiting for.

So naturally, I packed up Finn, my camera, and my Aunt, and we headed off to the sanctuary like a very determined but slightly slow-moving wildlife expedition team. I am still recovering from surgery, Finn had his own pace, and honestly, my Aunt deserves some kind of field assistant medal because she took care of Finnegan while I did my careful little camera hobble through the wild.

The weather was giving “hot summer day with a wind machine.” It was blustery and windy, but also hot, so I was grateful for the breeze. Was my hair thriving? Absolutely not. Was I thankful not to melt into the pathway? Very much yes.

Before we even officially began our walk, nature said, “Oh, you wanted mergansers? Cute. Here is a Turkey Vulture eating a rabbit in the road.”

Welcome to the sanctuary, I guess.

I parked the car, gingerly got myself out, grabbed my camera, and started inching closer like the world’s most cautious wildlife ninja. The light was harsh and direct, so the Turkey Vulture was coming out more silhouette than superstar. Naturally, I tried to move to the other side for a better angle, because apparently even when recovering from surgery, I still believe I am negotiating with the sun.

The vulture, however, was busy with lunch.

Then a car came along, and the vulture took off. Rude timing, but also dramatic.

And then because wildlife loves to reward patience and mild chaos, six Turkey Vultures suddenly appeared overhead. Six! Just soaring above the parking lot like they had been called in for backup.

So there I was, still basically in the parking lot, suddenly practicing in-flight shots. Or, more accurately, soaring shots, because Turkey Vultures do not flap around like they are late for a meeting. They glide. They tilt. They float through the sky like they know something we don’t.

Eventually, two landed on a nearby power pole, and I was able to creep closer for portraits. And yes, I said portraits. Because Turkey Vultures are gorgeous and I will not be taking questions at this time.

The two Turkey Vultures eventually noticed me and gave me the look. You know the one. The full side-eye. Then they looked at each other like they were having a very serious vulture conference.

“Is she here for the rabbit? She better not be here for the rabbit.”

Relax, gentlemen. I came with a camera

I know some people think they are ugly, but I love them. Their red faces, chocolate-brown feathers, and those incredible open nostrils you can actually see through? Come on. That is not ugly. That is prehistoric runway model meets sanitation engineer. Iconic.

Did you know?

Turkey Vultures are nature’s cleanup crew. They feed on carrion and have an incredible sense of smell, which helps them locate dead animals. So that rabbit in the road? Gross to us, gourmet opportunity to them. They are not creepy. They are performing an essential public service, and frankly, they should have tiny reflective safety vests.

After a while, we remembered that the official mission was not “Turkey Vulture Appreciation Day,” even though honestly, I would attend that event. We were supposed to be focused on merganser babies.

So off we went.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

This was not a power walk. This was a “please respect the healing body and the adventure cat” walk. A graceful shuffle. A sanctuary saunter. A scenic recovery crawl.

Along the way, we spotted a gorgeous butterfly that seemed to be following us. I assumed it would flutter off immediately, because butterflies love to act like unpaid models with very strict boundaries. But this one actually landed and let me take a photo.

I was shocked. A butterfly. Sitting still. For me. That rarely happens.

Miracles do happen.

Then came the Red-winged Blackbirds, showing off their fiery red and yellow shoulder patches like tiny marshland superheroes. They were absolutely convinced we had seed.

We did not.

Disappointment was felt on both sides.

They looked at us like, “You came all this way with a camera, a cat, an aunt, and no snacks?”

Honestly, fair.

We kept walking, scanning the water, checking the edges, hoping for the magical little merganser parade I had built up in my mind.

And then we saw…

Nothing.

A few birds flew by, but not close enough for photos. No babies. No mergansers. No bucket-list moment. Just me, my camera, my healing body, and the growing realization that nature does not care about my plans.

So we turned around and headed back.

At this point, I was tired. Happy to have seen the vultures, happy about the butterfly, delighted by the blackbirds, but also very ready to see the parking lot again. The parking lot had become a symbol of hope. A promised land. A flat, beautiful rectangle of almost-home.

And then my Aunt yelled, “Mergansers!” I looked over. There, in the river beside the parking lot, was a Mama Merganser with seven babies.

Seven.

Babies.

BINGO.

Not tiny newborn fluff balls, but the next stage up, the little toddler stage. Old enough to have attitude, small enough to still make your heart explode.

I leaned myself against a telephone pole, because sometimes wildlife photography is 50% skill, 50% balance, and 100% trying not to fall over in public. I lifted my camera and started shooting.

They were incredible.

Mama moved, and the babies moved. She turned, they turned. She shifted direction, they followed. They stayed so beautifully in tune with her, gathered close like a little floating puddle of stripes and fluff and determination.

It was fascinating to watch. Not just cute, although yes, painfully cute. But connected. Coordinated. Instinctive. Those babies knew exactly who their safety was, and they stayed with her.

Did you know?

Mergansers are diving ducks, and many have narrow, serrated bills that help them grip slippery fish. The babies may be small, but they are already learning the rhythm of life on the water: stay close, follow Mom, and move like your tiny life depends on it—because it does.

I stood there for a while, just watching.

The whole day had been a reminder that wildlife photography is rarely a straight line. You go out with one goal, and nature hands you a Turkey Vulture eating roadkill, a parking lot flight show, a cooperative butterfly, dramatic blackbirds, and then, right when you are tired and almost done—the exact thing you came for.

Seven baby mergansers.

A bucket-list moment beside the parking lot.

After that, I was ready for an iced coffee and home. My body was tired, my camera card was happier, and my heart was full.

Mission accomplished.

With bonus vultures.