TWO EGRETS

One spring day on the shore of a lake, I sat for awhile watching two white birds that I assumed were parent and child. Both were slender heron-like birds with feathers of immaculate white, and both had long necks and long skinny legs of black. One bird was smaller than the other, but otherwise they appeared much the same.      These were likely egrets of one sort or another. Herons and egrets are closely related, but herons come in several different shades, and egrets come only in white. There are herons available in white, but these are rare and egrets are not, so these were probably egrets.      When I looked them up, the only large egret with black legs was the Great Egret. So, I put down my bird book and picked up the binoculars to watch these two Great Egrets, parent and fledgling. It was spring, after all, so maybe I would get to see the parent teach the fledgling to fish.      The parent stood in water up to its knees and was so completely still, it seemed a statue. I can see why the National Audubon Society chose the Great Egret as their symbol. Farther off, the fledgling stood just as still, ankle-deep in shallow water near a log.      The parent would take an occasional measured stride through the water, stopping now and again to resume the pose. Then, in a move almost too quick to see, that long sharp bill would be thrust forward and down, and emerge from the water with a fish.       I kept expecting to see a little parent- child interaction here, but it never happened. The big bird caught fish several times, but never made an effort to share. It never even glanced at the fledgling. Was this particular egret family dysfunctional?      Meanwhile, the smaller bird was no longer standing still but showed increasing agitation. Perhaps it was too full of youthful energy to hold still for long. It had apparently given up imitating its apathetic parent. Instead, it hopped and splashed on the surface of the water, now with a foot and now a wingtip, fishing in a frantic fashion.      Then it hopped up onto the nearby log, and I saw something that shattered all my previous assumptions. I could see for the very first time that the bird had bright yellow feet. Perhaps it wasn’t a young Great Egret after all!      I put down the binoculars and picked up the book again, regretting my previous assumptions. There’s another white egret with long black legs — the Snowy Egret — a smaller twin of the Great Egret, with the notable exception of those yellow feet.      Both these egrets migrate through the High Plains. I’d put down the book too soon. Instead of watching a family, I was watching two entirely different birds.      It’s not only in the color of their feet they differ, for they have hunting styles that are utterly opposite. Great Egrets are known for their stillness, while Snowy Egrets have a frenzied repertoire of hunting techniques that includes running, hopping, leaping, wing-dipping, and standing still.      Snowy Egrets utilize those yellow feet to stir, rake, probe, and paddle in the water for fish and small crustaceans.      Both Great and Snowy Egrets were almost hunted to extinction for their gorgeous white breeding plumes, which for several decades sold for twice the price of gold. The plight of these birds led in part to the conservation movement itself, and today they’re no longer endangered.      The personal lesson I take is to never make assumptions. What I assumed was dysfunctional was working according to plan.