So there I was, minding my own business at Bosque del Apache, camera in hand, when I saw something that made me question every bird book I’ve ever owned.
A Northern Pintail—yes, that slim, elegant, fast-as-a-bullet duck—came sprinting across the water like it was late for a Duck Dash 5K. Feet slapping, wings flapping, beak forward like it meant business. I thought, “Surely, this isn’t a regulation takeoff procedure.”
According to the experts—and I mean the ones quoted by people like Audubon, the National Zoo, and Birdfact—Northern Pintails are the greyhounds of the sky. These birds are supposed to be sleek, aerodynamic rockets, capable of hitting 65 miles per hour during migration. They don’t dawdle. They soar. One even flew 1,800 miles nonstop—because layovers are for amateurs.
And let’s not forget, they’re dabblers. “Puddle ducks,” if you will. Which means they don’t need a running start. They’re built to launch straight from the water like feathery fighter jets. One second they’re tipping up to feed, tails in the air like feathered teeter-totters, and the next—bam!—skybound.
But not this guy.
Apparently, this Pintail skipped the orientation. Or maybe he was auditioning for the duck version of “America’s Got Track Talent.” Instead of springing up with grace, he charged across the water like a middle-schooler trying to get the last slice of pizza.
Honestly, it was magnificent. And mildly ridiculous. And I loved every second of it.
That’s the thing about birding: just when you think you’ve got a species figured out, one of them shows up and rewrites the manual. Turns out, even the greyhounds of the sky occasionally feel like galloping goofballs.
Live and learn… and always keep your camera ready. Nature has a wicked sense of humor.
Subscribe below and get my daily (okay, most days—let’s not get crazy) post delivered straight to your inbox. Like magic. But with fewer rabbits. 🐇✉️
Browse my complete art portfolio and shop prints at imagesbygacioe.shop
Leave a Reply