In keeping with a New Year's vow to take more advantage of all this region has to offer to lovers of gardens and animals, my husband and I headed out yesterday to visit the John Heinz National Wildlife Refuge at Tinicum in Southwest Philly/Delaware County. It'd been more than 20 years since our last visit - how did that happen? - and it was surely time.
The day was sublime, a pinch of a chill in the air but bright sunshine all 'round. Barely 200 yards into the trail, we were treated to the sight of a red-tailed hawk up in a tree feasting on a fresh-killed squirrel. Out came the binoculars, a must-have for this place, and we watched this magnificent creature devour his lunch entree with brutal gusto. (Actually, I'd like to invite him to my place next time. We have a few squirrels to offer for the luncheon menu.)
That was breathtaking, especially considering the site ... tank farm on one side, I-95 on another, jets taking off and landing overhead, the airport train line whizzing by, sirens in the distance, Marriott hotel straight on. Sadly, in Darby Creek, which runs alongside the path, tiny islands composed of nothing but discarded cans and bottles floated by. No mistaking where we were. I'd just as soon do without these ubiquitous reminders that human beings are such spoilers, but the creek's filth wasn't the only one. We saw several signs warning against eating any fish caught in the refuge. (Care for some PCBs with your sunfish, Madame? I'll take mine on the side, thanks.)
We noted the signs, felt crummy about the litter, then tried to focus on the birds. Perhaps because of those two things, rather than despite them, you're filled with thoughts of how precious and fragile these winged creatures are, how vital to our world and gardens. More than 300 bird species have been sighted in the refuge and environs and recorded by birders, including swans, geese, ducks, loons, pheasants, cormorants, herons, egrets, ibises, vultures, osprey, eagles and hawks. More than 80 species nest here, and you'll see nests, bird- and man-made, everywhere, from houses perched on poles in the water to carefully woven stick nests atop poles on land.
The beauty of a place like this is that all you do is walk and watch and chances are you'll see a great number of birds. They come to you, in a sense, as they make their way along the the Atlantic Flyway in spring and fall, stopping here to rest and feed.
After the red-tailed hawkfest, we ambled on and just a short way down the path we came upon a great blue heron standing still as ice, his spindly legs planted in the mud of the marsh. What an elegant figure he cut as he waited for the right fish at the right moment. Such patience. Such cunning.
We stood transfixed, passing the binoculars back and forth, admiring the racy black feathers edging off the back of his sleek, aerodynamic head and the ruffly gray ones on his chest. "He looks like a gentleman going to a party," my husband said, his best anthropomorphic comment of the day.
Altogether, we saw four or five herons and egrets and probably missed a dozen more, and lots of ducks and geese. Part of nature's genius, obvious here in so many ways, is the way these creatures blend into their surroundings, whether to protect or hide from predators or prey. Our heads were full of such thoughts, communicated silently.
We walked along the boardwalk, out into the water, noticing that even the reeds in this special place seemed part of nature's design. Bent over, cut off, sticking up straight, their reflections in the motionless water created dozens of geometric shapes, like Miro sketches. Some even looked like fish, and once you saw one, you saw them all. We noted that other visitors seemed not to see what we were seeing at every turn - there, there, over there and there. Amazing patterns.
There are hundreds more birds to see - hummingbirds and finches, orioles and blackbirds, tanagers and warblers, along with turtles and frogs, raccoons and red foxes and more kinds of mice than I care to count.
It was a sparkling day, filled with wonder. The most wonderful thing of all is that it's here, in the city, run by the federal government - the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. It's free, in other words.
"At least till April 15," my husband said.
