Love the birds along the marshlands, the name not quite as much; if the population were ever to crash, would you call it no re-egrets?
On my way to the post office today, going down a frontage road that runs alongside the Baylands, a sudden movement caught my eye and I glanced over, glad to be alone on the road.
Was it a courtship display? There was a tall white egret, swooping over in an arc down to the water: wings stretched wide, a burst of sunlight in its feathers, it looked for all the world as if it were doing a cartwheel.
Glorious.