Yesterday, after crossing into Cameron on the ferry, I saw a lump in the road ahead of me. As I rolled past it and looked back, I thought I saw the lump stand up. I doubled back, only to see some 18-wheelers headed down the lane. In a very decent move, both of the drivers saw the bird in the road and went slowly around it. I pulled next to the lump and saw it was a dazed Least Bittern. I picked it up; it was apparently knocked out standing up, so I set it down in a shady spot on my car floor and put a cover over it.
Least Bitterns have always been a favorite of mine. I first got to know them in my uncle's ricefields when I was a kid. It was always fun to watch them fly in close, and then pull up short and change directions with a look of shock when they saw me. What always struck me about them (other than their beautiful colors, of course) was their size.
How cool is a heron that you can hold in your hand?
I went about my birding business, and quite honestly, forgot about the bird until I heard somebody moving around on the passenger side floor. I lifted up the cover, and there, looking fierce and awake, was the bittern. It flew up to the window, then across the dashboard. I got a hold of it, and luckily wasn't holding it too close to my face. It was some kind of fache', and it started striking everything near it. It may be little, but that bill is sharp.
I drove to the nearest marshy area and let it go. It flew about a hundred yards, then veered sharply and ducked into the grass.
Later, when I was unpacking my car, I realized my guest had left a present for me on the floor:
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