Photos under the Sun

Everyone has been there: finding the perfect name for the baby, the pet, the association, the house, the company, the web domain—the list goes on and around the globe several times.  Now, most have plenty of resources to consult when finding that perfect name but what happens when the parents of  ADORABLE Tricolor Heron triplets live well beyond the expected wading bird infant mortality age span (EWBIMAS™ for short)?  You have to remember that most hatchings in the wild don’t survive in their full numbers due to numerous predators and conditions.  So, what a dilemma—albeit a super, wonderful one when the proud parents of triplets came to their juvenile stage intact!!  Just imagine: 3, yes that’s three, THREE Tricolor Herons from the same hatching surviving.  Well, it almost totally defeated the predator and wading bird clans at the rookery.  But before we get into that, let’s do a rundown on what happens to the Tricolor Heron during mating season.  First, the most beeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaauuuuuutifuuuuuuuuul color change happens along with a sprouting of jaunty feathers on the head:

Then, the eggs arrive (I swear I don’t know how ) and then the chickelinos arrive:

Are they adorable or what? No need to answer!!

Then the survivors turn into MONSTERS –glorious ones—that pester the parents until they are ready to go forward into the big, wide universe.  Fortunately, for the parents, this does not take long.

In the case of William and Mary, things went a little bit differently, much to the glee of the whole rookery.  Their triplet hatching survived WAY, way  beyond EWBIMAS™ and grew into this:

But now there was a little dilemma:  what to call them and nobody but NOBODY could tell them apart. William knew that yes, there were two girls and one boy but for the life of him couldn’t tell which was who:

Mary drove herself crazy trying to memorize and match the individual squawks with the number of squiggly hairs sticking up from their lovable heads:

William suggested they call them:  Melina and Serena for the girls and Purina for the lone boy. “Purina”, sputtered Mary—“You want to name him after a cat and dog food, after surviving all the predators and alligators, you WANT TO NAME HIM AFTER PEOPLE PET FOOD!!!!  NOT IN THIS NEST, YOU WON’T!!”

And so it was and so it stayed that way—no names and the confusion on who was what and which was who and what was whom remained. What to do?  Oh, how they worried and all at the rookery worried and worried and worried.  Then one fine day, Spinoza the Cattle Egret was in the middle of turning her eggs in the nest and it came to her:  “We’ll set up a caucus to give them names”, she said and that was that.

The Rookery Caucus was born.  They were:  1) PONDEROSA

Now when Ponderosa was young, nobody thought he’d ever amount to anything because he was a little “wild on the mild side”:

But he matured into the most serious Great Blue Heron in the environs and people started to call him “Ponderosa”.  It was not because of his long, long, long neck that evoked that tall pine tree but when asked a question, Pondie (as he was fondly nicknamed) would lower the eyelid a tad and spend the next hour mulling over a possible response.

The next member of the Caucus to be elected was Uma the Great Egret:

Uma, like Ponderosa, liked to be sure before making any kind of pronouncement. Uma’s friend Nezjaune (that’s French for “Yellow Nose”), the Wood Stork was number 3 elected to the caucus.  He is named “Nezjaune” because his juvenile yellow beak shone like a lighthouse beacon any time he came in contact with anyone he liked or loved.  There was no being on this earth he did not like or love–hence the name.  He liked to be democratic and invite all his croc friends into the decision:

The fourth member of the Caucus was none other than Zinnia, herself quite noted at the Rookery for her fabulous colors.  Here she is with her family:

So, the four came together and spent night after night kicking out names. They consulted the Rookery Book of Names for the 21st Century–yet unpublished for lack of funds–due to the Avian economy and therefore due to the Human economy.  They persevered and stayed up all night–often calling out to the Shaman up on Lake Okeechobeebee (that’s how they spell it, I swear!!)–anyway, it’s the biggest lake in Florida.  They went back through the names in the stories of their storytellers and yet could not find names that others had not already taken!!!  they even consulted the Sandhill Cranes who resided waaaaay outside of the Rookery:

But even the AWESOME Sandhill Cranes (who have so many brains that they leave some in the bushes to lighten the load) didn’t have an answer!!  Ponderosa–by then he was elected leader– finally admitted defeat:

Well. the Rookery underwent the cloudiest day you would ever want to see in Southwest Florida. The clouds that hung low were not the kind that made photographers skip with joy.  No, they were full of sadness and hardness and edges and bled every color of its hapiness.  But then, a miracle happened.  Zinnia the Cattle Egret had a brainwave:

“We must call them after the stars or something that sounds like that:  Celeste, Twilight and NorthStar would be a start.”, she said and the Caucus 4 nodded in grateful agreement.

So, now the Triplets have names and when the parent comes to visit they are perfectly identifiable:

And yes, they become demanding:

And oh, so like the rest:

And so we come to the end of our story. I want to wish everyone a very happy life and to those in the US a very Happy  Thanksgiving.  Remember, every day you can take a breath means that you can find one more thing of beauty.  Be happy!  Here’s a link to a favorite storyteller of mine Enjoy!!