Look Closely

Drove down to Brigantine Wildlife Refuge (aka Edwin B.Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge, Route 9, Oceanville) the other day. Along the way, it was comforting to see the signs of spring in the newly green fields and carefully tended rows of blossoming blueberry bushes.

We arrived late on a cool, blustery afternoon and walked along on a short trail, through woods just turning green, down to the salt marsh. We expected to behold tight flocks of all varieties of shore birds winging over the marshes. But, standing at the edge of woods and marsh, we saw ... not so much: Just a few birds in the mostly empty sky and the Atlantic City skyline in the distance.

It was low tide and the shallow channels through the marshes were muddy and dimpled with dark lumps. Upon closer inspection, we noticed that the lumps were moving. They appeared to be tiny crabs, thousands of them, scuttling along the mud flats and under the mat of salt hay. If I were a tiny little crab, I thought, I'd scuttle all-out for the grass lest I become an early bird special.

“Look closely” became the theme of the visit. 

Note: Forgot camera. Photo snapped in Dec. 2010.

As we walked back up the trail, a lone finch whistled on a tree branch, then darted off. We got into the car and proceeded on the slow tour along the Wildlife Drive. Pairs of ospreys, with black bands slashing across their white heads like Lone Ranger masks, nested in most of the platforms erected for them. Lots of geese and ducks: fuzzy hatchlings poking the grass close to their parents, groups of four of the Huey, Dewey and Louie size skimming low over the mud flats in fledgling formation, and lone adults who appeared to be getting a little quiet time away from the kids.

Of course, there were seagulls. They would glide over the gravelly drive, release a mussel or clam from their beak, then land to pick and poke through the shattered shell for the soft, slimy meat. My friend stopped the car to wait for the gull to finish, but I urged him forward (non-lethally). I think it's a safe bet that courtesy shown to a seagull will never, ever be reciprocated. 

Near the end of the drive, we couldn't help but spot a huddle of about 20 egrets, adults standing erect and juveniles splashing in a pool, brilliant white against the dark water and green and gray marsh. My friend pointed out that the knees on their reed-like legs bend opposite ours. Now that's weird.

From the refuge, we proceeded into AC for a meal at the Mexico Restaurant, 3810 Ventnor Ave. Pleasantly funky in an AC kind of way with excellent food and service.