A summer wetland landscape scene is only complete if a great egret is standing on the edge of the water. Its bright white plumage and elegant S-curved neck belie its loud croaking call.
More than a century ago, a woman’s ensemble would only be complete if she were wearing a hat adorned with feathers from the egret or other wading birds with graceful plumes. In the late 1800s, an ounce of feathers from egrets was worth more than an ounce of gold. Fashions today still remind us that the quest for human-defined beauty often surpasses the desire to conserve our natural resources.
Great egrets, like many other bird species in the late 19th century, were hunted almost to extinction. Early conservationists, both women and men, fought to get laws that would stop the hunting, and the great egret rebounded, remaining today, symbolic of conservation efforts in the United States.
It’s difficult to understand the mindset of some humans who lived more than a century ago when it came to birds. There was a pervasive belief that the United States had so many, unending resources that belonged to humans who could use them as they wished. Some humans continue to hold this erroneous thought.
I am grateful for the forward-thinkers who saved these birds from extinction enabling me to enjoy them in the 21st century. I often wonder what my attitude toward great egrets and other abundant water birds would have been like 125 years ago. I hope I would have joined the early conservationists.
Today we know so much about this long-legged white bird that graces wetlands here in the summer. It spends winter in Central America and South America, then migrates during the day northward to find trees and shrubs in which to raise young amidst other egrets. Its choice to nest colonially may give credence to the adage that there’s strength in numbers.
During breeding season, a patch of skin on the male bird’s face turns green, contrasting with the bright orange-yellow bill. Males perform fancy courtship displays, opening and showing off their white plumes that grow to extend beyond their backs. Together the couple builds a platform-style stick nest in a tree or shrub near water. Both male and female incubate three to four eggs, and in about 24 days, they hatch. Then the nestlings begin their incessant croaking; getting louder as they grow older and begging for regurgitated food from their parents.
That food is mostly fish, but also frogs, snakes, dragonflies, grasshoppers and even rodents. The great egret stands like a statue in the water or wades through wetlands to grasp its prey with its long, dagger-like bill.
Starting in about late July or August after the young have fledged, great egrets gather in feeding flocks, sometimes dozens to hundreds. I’ve observed dozens of egrets in fall feeding in the backwaters of the Mississippi River at Pere Marquette State Park in Illinois as well as in the Palos Preserves sloughs in Cook County.
Years ago, I followed the raising of young in an egret rookery along the Fox River in Lake County. I stepped on and over guano beneath the trees as the young called nonstop begging for food, squeezing into nests that soon would be too large for them.
Each summer while doing my dragonfly and damselfly survey, a great egret stands along the shores of Lake Defiance, peering into the water seeking a meal. Great egrets prefer shallower waters, unlike their cousins, the great blue herons, which can wander into deeper wetlands and remain here sometimes even in winter if food is available.
Seeing a solitary great egret in a wetland or pond in early August reminds me to enjoy every moment of summer, for these birds will soon leave our northern Illinois landscape to spend winter farther south.
Sheryl DeVore has worked as a full-time and freelance reporter, editor and photographer for the Chicago Tribune and its subsidiaries. She’s the author of several books on nature and the environment. Send story ideas and thoughts to sheryldevorewriter@gmail.com.