An Awkward Bird

There is only one kind of stork native to our continent; it is also our largest wading bird. If you have ever seen one, you know how unmistakable they are: long, black legs with pinkish feet; feathers all white except for their flight feathers and tail, which are black and iridescent; a long, black, downward-curved bill; and a dinosaur-like, dark gray, “scaly” bare neck and head. When they fly, they look like small gliders, with their enormous wings spread out, their neck outstretched—not gracefully curved as with an egret or a heron—their legs trailing behind. They were only removed from the endangered list in 2014 but are still considered threatened. Here, on the coast of Georgia, however, we are fortunate enough to see this gangly, magnificent bird year-round. The wood stork (Mycteria americana) does leave an impression on those who see it.

My son and I frequented the wildlife center here, before he started school. One rainy spring day at the center, beside a green pond watched over by a nearly motionless alligator, we observed the mating habits of wood storks, up in the pines, among their large stick-nests. It seemed that we beheld a strange and awkward dance in the treetops: bills clapping, giant wings and legs flapping and flailing every which way. They looked like—in a simile my son still enjoys—marionettes being taught to walk on stilts. But if that’s what it takes to make more wood storks, I wholeheartedly endorse their unwieldiness. The sooner we can get them off the threatened list, the better. The comeback of the wood stork would, indeed, be a triumph—and we could all use a bit more awkwardness in our lives.