Snail Kite – Photo Credit Audubon
Another Day in the Everglades
On one of my many trips to Florida, I was once again poking around the Everglades. I know most people think of it as a swamp, but I love the place. There are creatures there that I would never see anywhere else, and my camera is always busy.
On this particular day, I was on an airboat tour. I take airboat tours quite often, mainly because they’re a good way to get around. You’re not likely to step on an alligator, although they have been known to jump into the boats, and they allow you to see areas the average tourist would never reach on foot.
Some tours are great and others, not so much. I can’t blame the operators. They know their routes and they know when the animals are usually out and about, but they can’t make wildlife appear on command. Nature doesn’t work that way.
A Rare Visitor
We were crossing a fairly open stretch of water and heading toward some tall reeds where the operator thought we might spot a few “gators.” To pass the time, he was filling us in on bits of Everglades lore.
Earlier, we’d watched a large flock of pelicans take off together, which was quite impressive. We’d also seen a few gators tucked away in the vegetation, but nothing cruising the open water.
Suddenly, the operator got very excited and started pointing at the sky.
In the distance, I could just make out a dark bird flying toward us. I knew it was well beyond the range of my camera, but I might never get another chance, so I started taking pictures anyway.
The operator kept shouting, “Snail kite! Snail kite!”
I didn’t see any snails or any kites, but I kept snapping away as the bird came closer.
Finally, it veered off, and I watched it disappear into the distance. The operator then told us how lucky we were to have seen such a rare bird.
Photographed in the Everglades. The hooked bill, shape, and habitat make me wonder if this is a Snail Kite, but the lighting and distance make the ID tricky. What do you think?
Rediscovering an Old Photograph
Years passed.
As you know, I’ve been digging through my ancient photo archive, looking for pictures I might want to salvage, restore, or delete. Lo and behold, there were those old photos of that dark-colored bird.
Just for fun, I tried enlarging and sharpening them. Photo-processing tools have improved dramatically over the years, and as the image cleared up, there it was.
My snail kite.
Except it wasn’t.
The Great Misidentification
For all these years, I believed I had photographed this rare bird. I even watched a PBS wildlife special about snail kites, learning how they got their name from their diet of apple snails and how they’re threatened by habitat loss.
But now I’m not so sure.
The tour guide may have misidentified the bird. Then again, maybe he didn’t.
When I recently restored the old photos and enlarged them, I became convinced that the bird wasn’t a snail kite at all. At first glance, it appeared more likely to be a red-shouldered hawk. That seemed to settle the matter.
Then I started comparing my photograph with other images of red-shouldered hawks and found myself having second thoughts. The more photographs I looked at, the less certain I became.
red shouldered hawk
So after all these years, the mystery remains unsolved. The bird may have been a snail kite. It may have been something else entirely. Unfortunately, the original photo was taken at extreme range under less-than-ideal conditions, and there simply isn’t enough detail for a definitive identification.
Still an Everglades Success
Whatever the bird was, I’m still glad I took the picture.
Considering the distance and conditions, the photo came out far better than I expected. More importantly, it preserved a memory from a day spent exploring one of my favorite places on Earth.
So I guess I can chalk this up as a semi-successful Everglades adventure.
After all, not every wildlife story ends with an answer. Sometimes the mystery is what keeps the story alive.
🦎 Anoles: Tiny Speed Demons
the iguana population — and wow, did they make an impression.
Of course, the biggest lizards in the area weren’t iguanas at all — they were alligators. Signs everywhere warned visitors not to swim with them, but the park still had a roped‑off swimming area, and plenty of people went in and out of the water like it was no big deal.
Central New England: Worcester, Prepare Thyself
You’ve made it to the Keys, bless your brave little soul. You survived the iguana speed bumps of Islamorada, the deer gangs of Big Pine Key, and the “is this road drunk or am I?” experience of US‑1. At one point I even saw a helicopter hovering over the highway like it was checking on the mental stability of everyone making that drive — and honestly, fair And now, as your reward, you get to watch a sunburned housecat with emotional baggage square up against an iguana on Duval Street like it’s pay‑per‑view.
People come to Key West convinced Jimmy Buffett is still tucked away somewhere, strumming a guitar and handing out margaritas like party favors.
