By Neil Stalter

 

Next time you walk a visitor around our Audubon Sanctuary, you can bet on hearing the question: “What are those white egrets that are everywhere . . . eating on the ground?”

 

First, they're not egrets. They are related, but are called “White Ibis.” Yes, they do seem to be everywhere year-round, eating ground insects and grubs as they constantly bob their orange beaks.

 

Our White Ibis, one of four species in North America, ranks near the top of our most common birds. Farther south, clustered around the Keys, you find the stunning Scarlet Ibis. Out West, from Texas to Montana, the White-faced Ibis makes its home. However, here in Grand Harbor, we also have the Glossy Ibis – a dark brown-green duplicate of its white cousin. It has a dark bill. All Ibises, including species of both the new world and the eastern hemisphere, measure about 25” with long heron-like legs like many wading birds.

 

Both White and Glossy Ibises mingle with egrets and storks as they dance along the edge of ponds, probing the shoreline and mud bottoms with their down-curved bills. They hunt for crustaceans and little fish. They utter hardly a sound . . . only a hissy nasal honk as they fly. In flight, their bill and neck extend straight in contrast with the herons who fold their necks into a classic crook.

 

In ancient times, many cultures held the Ibis in reverence. Egyptians believed this sacred bird would help lift the dead spirit into an afterlife of joyful reward. Pharaohs and priests were often buried with many ibises in their tombs. In fact, more than four million ibis carcasses have been counted among the tombs of Egyptians along the Nile in the famed Saqqara area.

 

Ibises nest in trees often near egrets, herons and other wading birds. Their colonies can be easily seen by boat in the spoils islands of the Indian River. In these nesting sites both white and glossy types mix, but seldom interbreed.

 

Although easily taken for granted, the White Ibis adds to our birding experience. So common hereabouts, it is rare in most areas north of Virginia. Growing up along Delaware Bay, I found an ibis report enough reason for jumping in a car and driving 50-100 miles to watch these graceful birds in their hyperactive bobbing struts.