Rainy-Day Revelations

A rainy morning, one of those days where staying dry seemed secondary to scratching that insistent itch to connect with the wild. Rain splattered the windshield as I arrived to lake Apopka Wildlife Drive, but the world beyond it promised life in motion, so I pressed on.

The first greeters were a flock of mallards, heads bobbing rhythmically as they breakfasted on aquatic plants.

A Pied-billed Grebe floated nearby, diving intermittently, its tiny presence somehow commanding in the quiet expanse of water.

Blue-winged Teals gathered farther out, ripples marking their easy camaraderie.

And, as expected, the Common Gallinule - its crimson shield unmistakable - glided by, a constant in these waters.

Eyes lifted to the sky, I caught sight of a White Ibis mid-flight, its wings an elegant crescent against the rainy clouds. The camera clicked, a small victory in capturing the moment before it was gone.

Closer to the ground, a Swamp Sparrow darted among the reeds, too busy foraging to notice me. A Palm Warbler, more cooperative, perched just long enough for a few quick shots.

And then, the surprise of the day: a Purple Swamphen, or as we now know it, a Gray-headed Swamphen. A flash of vibrant blue and gray, this bird feels more myth than reality. Native to southern Asia, it’s a rarity in the U.S., found wild only in Florida since the 1990s - a consequence, it seems, of Hurricane Andrew’s wild reshuffling of lives in 1992.

Despite the rain, the sky was alive with Tree Swallows. Iridescent blue-green flashes twisted and darted through the rain. Photographing them was an exercise in patience and futility, their speed rivaling even Black Skimmers. But sometimes, it’s less about the capture and more about the act of bearing witness to what moves too quickly to hold.

Rain-soaked and content, I left the drive reminded that even under a rainy sky, life moves boldly, beautifully. Sometimes, you just have to step into the rain to see it.