The Canoe Story

It was Friday morning, November 27, 1998—the day after Thanksgiving. I was satisfied with my look at a Spot-breasted Oriole on the grounds of the Baptist Hospital on 88th Street in Kendall, Florida. I looked at my watch. 8:30am. Wow. It’s early. Flamingos, here I come! I drove south on Rt 1 through town down through Homestead. In Florida City I turned west on 9336 and headed toward the Everglades. I gulped the last of my orange juice, chasing down the remains of an Egg McMuffin while watching all the Eurasian Collared Doves. I made a few notes to myself. They perch on top of lamp posts and telephone poles, unlike Mourning Doves. I also noted how they very often sat at sharp angles on the telephone lines like Kestrels. The chunky, squarish look of this bird in flight reminded me of a White-winged Dove. Speaking of which, hey, there is one! And there’s a Hill Myna on another telephone pole. I passed by Robert’s and thought someday I’ll stop for a Key Lime Milkshake. Continue reading