Black Crowned Thug Herons

Young night herons, like the one above, look so different from adults that they almost seem like a different animal. (And considering I've heard people in the park confuse night herons for owls, hawks, and ducks, it's easy to see how a brown one vs a grey one would cause even more difficulty for them.) The Birder's Handbook says that they usually take 2-3 years to reach breeding age, but doesn't mention how long it takes for them to get adult plumage. Though all night herons are as surly as human teenagers, I have been checking the young ones periodically for signs of more grown-up fashion (They stop sagging their pants and their feathers become dry-clean only). Yesterday I spotted a few likely candidates. This one is still fairly streaky, but the characteristic black crown is becoming darker. This one also had bright yellow-green legs (compared to the one above, whose legs were pale yellow-white.)


Looking even a bit more mature is this guy being skeptically eyed by an adult. "Hmmmm, your crown may be black, but the rest of your body is a dingy gray-brown. Come back when you've cleaned up, sonnyboy!"
Interestingly, not all of the young herons are progressing at the same rate. Is this because they hatched at slightly different times? Or another reason?

While I was taking in the magestic beauty of these scruffy juveniles, a woman came over to the fence and started feeding the birds, tossing cheerios, bread, and sundry cheesy pizza crusts into the enclosure.

"What's that you say? Cheesy pizza crusts?"


The addition of food caused a mad scuffle, with geese hissing over the cheerios and herons ready to break a beer bottle over the head of anyone who tried to compete for a cheesy bit. I have never seen them so active. Although my camera was running out of battery and suffering from a delayed shutter response, I got a few pictures of how herons handle conflict.

Step 1:Extend your neck and assess how burly your opponent is:

Step 2: Your opponent is now checking you out as well. Quick, look like you're so gigantic that nobody will question your inaliable right to the Cheerios. Raise up your backles (hackles for birds?) and stick your three white tentacle feathers into the air.

"Thish here'sh MY Cheeriosh, SHEE?"



Step 3: RUMMMMMBLLLLLLE!

Chicks and ducks and geese BETTER scurry! This pizza is MINE. SRSLY.

I didn't get a good shot of the best of the action, where one heron flies up and tries to peck the other from above. I almost got hit in the face by a heron wing though.

After the frenzy was over, I noticed one pathetic survivor of the skirmish. The lady had thrown in some moldy tortillas, bag and all. I asked her about this when I saw her do it and she seemed unconcerned. "They'll get it out."

15 minutes later the bag had been pecked at listlessly by a coot, pooped on by a goose, and stepped on by a heron. The coot's pecking seemed to indicate that it could *see* that there was food in the bag, but it didn't explore further to find the open hole where it could have gotten the food out. If there had been any seagulls there (like those at the Palace of Fine Arts lagoon) I'm sure they would have ripped that thing open immediately, as I've seen them do with other plastic bags, wrappers, and even tupperware. This is interesting to me--are different bird species smarter or dumber than others? Why could habituated seagulls learn to peck open plastic bags, and pelicans learn to get excited when seeing a plastic bag... but other birds didn't seem to associate a plastic bag with food? This can't be the first time bread in a plastic bag has been in the enclosure. Why didn't these birds succeed in getting the tortillas when they were going nuts over all the other food? Or are moldy whole wheat tortillas just as unappetizing to birds as they are to humans?

PS: Another park visitor eventually jumped the fence, dumped out the tortillas, and threw away the bag. Geese ate the tortillas within minutes.