Heat Impacts the Brain

A break in the business action gave me a free afternoon in the Orlando area. Wildfires prevented me from heading for the beach area so I opted for some inland birding at Kissimmee Lake State Park, twice selected (and the only facility to receive the honor) as the nation’s most admired state park.
It’s a cool place. Well, cool in the sense that it’s hot. Err, hot meaning heavily frequented. On this day in early May, it was hot in the sense of temperature, actually, not people. In fact, I saw few other humans in the park. I guess the 94-degree temperature with humidity off the charts kept the slugabeds in their air conditioned houses and cars. Only truly dedicated birders, three of us, were out there pishing in the bushes.
As I approached the entrance to the park I was welcomed by a pair of sandhill cranes with two juveniles. The little ones were 25% body and 75% legs. Young sandhill cranes look like footballs balanced on bent card-table legs. They were all gleaning bugs out of a roadside ditch so I moved to the left to give them plenty of room. I stopped opposite the quartet and one adult looked at me as if to say, “So, what did you expect?” One juvenile approached the car, stuck its head nearly into the open window and looked at me like a dog looks at a ceiling fan.
After walking about three miles, spotting a variety of birds and other animals, and consuming a gallon of water, I decided to sit in the shade and let the birds come to me. The plan worked. Coming across an open space I spotted a tom turkey dressed in full regalia. This guy was the definition of “strut-yer-stuff.” I could not figure out who he was showing off for until I spotted the dark silhouette on the edge of the field—also in the shade.
He bobbed and weaved, tail flaring, turning and twisting. He spun around so many times I thought he’d screw himself into the ground. If birds could sweat this dude was in a lather. And the female? Not interested. Too hot for sex, seemed to be her message. Finally she perked up and stepped out of the shadows to have a closer look at Prince Charming and his finery.
Poof! Old Tom imploded. I’ve seen balloons at birthday parties stay inflated longer when stuck with a pin than this guy did. I thought he had been shot at close range with a silencer-equipped rifle. I focused on his hoped-for-intended and understood. Seems that it was a black vulture, not a hen turkey.
Have you ever seen a bird sulk? He, too, headed for the shade.