Wood Stork ‘22

At the end of 2021, a pair of wood storks were sighted at Spermaceti Cove in Sandy Hook, NJ. A tropical bird listed as a threatened species in Florida, the birds drew a crowd and created quite the chatter on Facebook birding group circles. Pictures were posted of the pair in flight, near culverts*, and foraging.

Wood storks are normally found in the tropics but can be found in temperate climates during migrations. Storks had been reported in NJ back in 2017, but that was in August where humid NJ Summers can sometimes feel tropical. Seeing Wood Storks in NJ during the winter was even more unusual. While exciting, the report reminded me of Rumaan Alam’s 2020 creepy, pandemic novel, Leave the World Behind. There was a scene where flamingos had migrated to the Hamptons and were swimming in one of the characters’ backyard pool. Were the storks a harbinger of something terrifying to come?

The storks had been sighted almost a week before Christmas in 2021, so when I headed down to Sandy Hook on Sunday, January 2nd of 2022, I felt like my chances of seeing the storks were pretty slim.  I give rare bird reports a 1-2 day spread and its usually after the 3rd day that I figure my chances are fairly low for a sighting. I can’t remember the exact time when I arrived, but it was early and probably just before 9 am: a rarity in itself that I was out of bed before 7. I parked in Lot E and crossed the two lane road to Spermaceti Cove where I was hit with a wall of fog and a visibility distance of close to 20 feet. It was creepy, beautiful, and absolutely discouraging.

A few other birders began to appear and eventually as the view cleared, brant, ducks, and mergansers began to take shape in the distance. After hanging out for a good half hour with no stork sighting, I decided to call it quits and make my way towards North Beach where I had seen snow buntings the year before. Just as I was halfway down the boardwalk I heard a whistle from a birder and he waived me back to point out a large white bird foraging maybe 50 yards away from us. (Let’s be honest I’m totally making these feet/yard distance memories up. I can’t remember how far away something was from me).

I would love to describe the emotion I felt when sighting this prehistoric-looking bird coming out of the fog as a real wow moment—don’t get me wrong it was exciting, but I couldn’t help but feel a little sad when I zoomed in on the bird. The wood stork looked lost without its partner, foraging through washed up garbage, and fighting the cold with its fluffed feathers shrugged near its head. I later learned from my birding pal, K, that the storks did not survive during their winter trip to NJ**. One dying before the other.

I could empathize with its loneliness. But! We aren’t supposed to anthropomorphize birds and give them human emotions! Looking back at the picture I took, I remember feeling overwhelmed with an emotion that left me dismayed for a good part of the day, reminding me how nature can connect us with our own feelings even if many think animals and birds do not have them. I for one think that they do. Just weeks before, birders were excited with the storks’ active behavior and aerial displays. So maybe at some point these visitors had a feeling of adventure during their trip up north.

After several minutes of poking its long, conical beak at the ground, the stork turned and slowly made its way back into the bushes and shrubs where most likely it was hiding, far from the home that it would much prefer. I too turned to walk back to my car passing a large birding group cheerfully and laughing “stork this, stork this, stork this.” I realized that this group would be disappointed that they had just missed the appearance, but maybe fortunate to not see its struggle.

I will always think of the wood storks’ visit as a beautiful, yet tragic, love story. Maybe more accurately, a desperate call for conservation and discussions on climate change.

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*Birding buzz word: a culvert is a tunnel carrying a stream or open drain under a road or railroad. Apparently birds like hanging out around culverts especially near sewage treatment plants (read Julia Zarankin’s memoir for her experience with birding and sewage). Whenever the resident Virginia Rail at a local wildlife sanctuary is reported, its usually by the culvert. I will admit that I had no idea what a culvert was, and I’ve run into many birders who asked “where’s the culvert?” but you knew they were really asking “what’s a culvert?” when you responded with “the big pipe” and they said “oooooh.”

**After reading this post, K told me that she had heard that one of the birds had died, but was not sure of what became of the second stork.