Return of the Great White Egret

It was on Pameacha Pond in the busy commercial district, and the stately white bird was standing motionless. I knew I had to communicate this to my friend Claude, our local bird expert. He once spotted in the woods of Haddam Neck a species of thrush known as the Townsend’s Solitaire (Myadestes townsendi), a rare bird in these parts, being native to coniferous forests of the Rocky Mountains. He is of that expert class of birdwatcher who marks the years by his sightings. April 1996 was when he spotted the Townsend.   

I am not one of these diligent birders, but I love nature and I was eager to tell Claude of my first sighting this season of the Great White Egret (Ardea alba). The glistening white wading bird was standing majestically on that little muddy promontory of Pameacha Pond, which is quite near busy South Main Street. I drive here often and am alert to whatever birds gather — mostly ducks and gulls and cormorants later in the season. In mid-March, the egret was an early arrival.

When I came to the coffee shop to tell Claude, he was looking intently up at a roof across the street. Following his gaze, I saw two large black birds were perched on a chimney stack. “Black vultures,” Claude said. “They’ve been here for several days. Black vultures have been expanding their range up from the South in recent years,” Claude continued. “They’re not as common as turkey vultures and not as fine in the air — the Turkey Vulture is the master of the air! — but an impressive species nonetheless.”

“What were you saying about egrets?” Claude took a sip of his coffee. I told him of my sighting and he immediately launched into a discourse about egrets and herons. 

The return of these large wading birds to coastal marshes and ponds is a textbook example of diligent conservation practices. It is told how at the end of the 19th century, herons and egrets had been virtually wiped out, the cause being fashion, in particular, Victorian ladies hats. In 1886, Frank Chapman, ornithologist to the American Museum of Natural History, strolling around New York City was alarmed to see 40 species of birds affixed to woman’s hats, including owls, woodpeckers, herons and several species of rail. The ornamental plumage was usually selected for these fashionable crowns, but sometimes the entire stuffed bird was displayed.

The fad for feathers in the millinery trade was especially hard on egrets and herons, the market gunners blasting the stately birds in their rookeries, slaughtering hundreds of thousands. By 1900, it was said that the only place to see some species was in a millinery shop window.

The National Audubon Society was founded partly in response to the devastating slaughter of southern wading birds. Later, the Great White Egret would be chosen as the society’s symbol. Since then, these resilient marsh birds have not only recolonized their former breeding grounds, but have moved north, expanding their range into New England and beyond. With its flocks of migrant Great White Egrets dotting the marshes in summer, Hammonasett State Park looks like the Everglades.