Repost: Chasing the Purple Gallinule

The Purple Gallinule is a favorite target bird of mine when I go birding around the wetlands in Southeast Texas in the summer. Here's the post I wrote about chasing it back in the summer of 2010. (Note: Since this post appeared, the ABA has changed the name of the Common Moorhen to Common Gallinule.)

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The Purple Gallinule is one of the most colorful members of a rather uncolorful family, the rails. Specifically, they are part of the orderGruiformes, family Rallidae. It is a family with many extended relatives, including some rather famous ones like the Whooping Crane.

Purple Gallinules have some much closer and more common relatives in the American Coot and the appropriately-named Common Moorhen. The gallinules share body-type and many lifestyle habits with these two birds.

Common Moorhen. Note the very red bill with its white tip.

The American Coot, on the other hand, features a white bill with a white frontal shield on the forehead.

Both of these birds are more common in our area than the Purple Gallinule. The gallinule is more of a tropical bird, but it can be found in the eastern third of Texas and all along the Gulf Coast in summer. In recent years, a few of the birds have spent their summers at Brazos Bend State Park and they were my main reason for wanting to visit the park yesterday. When I go chasing a particular bird, often I come up empty, but yesterday I was not disappointed.

Almost as soon as I stepped from the car, I saw the bird in the vegetation along the edge of Elm Lake. (This picture appears a bit foggy because my camera lens was still fogged by the transition from the car interior to the humid outdoors.)

I was able to watch the bird for several minutes and snap several pictures. I looked around for a mate or possibly a chick - I thought from the way the bird spread its wings at times that it might be sheltering a chick - but I didn't see either. Just the solitary bird.

The bird stopped and posed on a partially submerged log. Look at those long, long toes! They help the bird walk on floating vegetation like lily pads.

Note that this member of the family has a pale blue forehead shield to go with its bright red beak with a white tip. Its body colors range from the purple of its head, neck, and lower body to a more greenish hue on the back. You have to admit, this is one colorful bird.

This behavior of dragging the wings is what made me think there might be a chick nearby. It's typical behavior of these somewhat chicken-like birds, a behavior shared with their domestic cousins. In fact, these birds, along with coots and moorhens, are sometimes referred to as "swamphens."

The Purple Gallinule sexes look alike so I can't say if my bird was a male or female. Both sexes participate in incubating and caring for the young which may number as many as ten in a clutch. They also may be helped by others of their kind in caring for the young. These "extra" helpers appear to be from former clutches of the breeding pair. This is a fairly widespread behavior among birds. I've seen it in my own yard this summer with the Chimney Swifts.

These interesting birds are only with us for the summer and then they return to South America for the winter. A few may stay in the southern tip of Florida for that season.

Occasionally, gallinules wander very far afield. In spite of their somewhat clumsy appearance, they are strong fliers. Some strays have even crossed the Atlantic and they are one of the most frequent "accidental" visitors found in southern Africa. Personally, I'm just glad that this bird "accidentally" turned up at Brazos Bend yesterday to swell my meager year list.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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