Roseate SPOONBILL

BY CANDICE DYER

That flash of bismuth pink you see hovering over the marsh may look, at first glance, like a flamingo, but zoom in with your binoculars. It is actually a roseate spoonbill.

The spoonbill is smaller than a flamingo, with a short neck and a bill shaped like a salad server— perfect for sifting shrimp and plankton for food. It’s a relative newcomer to Jekyll Island, the product of a shrinking habitat. “They’re normally farther south,” says Tim Keyes, a biologist with the Department of Natural Resources, “but as Florida wetlands dwindled, they started showing up on the Georgia coast in the 1980s. Some that were banded [for research] in Tampa have turned up here.”

Their coloration comes from an abundance of carotenoids, or algae pigments, in their diet. The older the bird, the pinker the feathers.

Pastel juveniles and their more vibrant elders can be spotted on Jekyll on the golf course, at the amphitheater pond, and along the causeway at low tide. Some birders have even reported a spectacle of around 100 spoonbills feeding together, swinging their spatulate beaks from side to side.

The roseate spoonbill differs from other birds in the sound it makes—a guttural grunt reminiscent of a pig. “It lacks a song,” says Lydia Thompson, a local bird conservationist and avian artist, “so it relies on its visual appeal to attract attention.” The feathers darken at the edges to crimson red when the birds are breeding, and the adults have startling red eyes, giving them the look of a dowager’s old-timey brooch come to life.

In fact, the bird’s unusual beauty was almost its undoing. In the 1860s, it was hunted for its plumes, which decorated women’s hats and fans—a practice since outlawed.

“They’re a delight to observe and easy to spot for those who are new to birding,” Thompson says.

BY TONY REHAGEN

Far left: Linginfelter and his wife, Sandy. Above: W.S. Linginfelter worked for Atlanta Gas Light in the Golden Isles. His son would rise through the ranks of the utilities company (now Southern Company Gas) over his three-decade career there. Left: Linginfelter’s dog, Buddy, frolics on the beach.

Linginfelter came aboard the foundation in summer of 2011 and was thrust almost immediately into the chairmanship. His task was to make the organization self-supported and proactive. According to fellow member (and former chair) Buff Leavy, Linginfelter didn’t hesitate to take the reins. “He can be a man of action when he needs to be decisive,” says Leavy. “But he does it in a very genteel way. He is a great listener, a compassionate leader, who always knows when to pick up the ball or assist others and pat them on the back when they do a good job. He was also a perfect fit because he grew up on Jekyll. His heart was in it— he knew how perfect Jekyll is.”

Even after leaving the chairmanship in October 2013, Linginfelter has remained a force on the foundation. Over the past seven years, he has helped raise funds to relocate and renovate the historic Skeet House, a gathering spot for skeet shooters during the Jekyll Island Club era; to preserve the diamondback terrapin and the Wilson’s plover; and to build the Horton Pond wildlife viewing area and nature trail. The foundation’s biggest initiative—perhaps its largest undertaking since the establishment of the Georgia Sea Turtle Center in 2007—has been the revitalization of the Jekyll Island Museum. So far the campaign, known as Jekyll Island Mosaic, has raised more than $3.1 million to redesign the museum’s interior, build an outdoor education center, and revamp programming to illuminate the human and environmental wonders of Jekyll. “I just think we need to make the space as welcoming as possible,” he says. “It will give people a full understanding of the natural and man-made history of the island.” Meanwhile, Linginfelter has been revisiting his own history. He and his wife now own a cottage on St. Simons, where they hope to retire and stay engaged on Jekyll. “I believe that when you retire, you should be where you can build lasting friendships and contribute,” he says. “Tourists love to come to Jekyll, but it’s not necessarily a tourist’s place. Jekyll is a true community.” family in Atlanta, Linginfelter heard the bells of the Golden Isles calling him home once again. An executive vice president for Southern Company Gas, he was on his way to Jekyll for a thirty-year reunion for his class at Brunswick’s Glynn Academy when, while idling on the bridge to pay the island’s entrance fee, his car was nearly hit by an oncoming vehicle. He decided to call his old friend Jones Hooks, executive director of the Jekyll Island helped reconnect him with his past. Linginfelter’s father had worked as a manager for the Atlanta Gas Light Company in the Golden Isles; the family would head to Jekyll for company picnics. Jekyll was also where young Linginfelter would go for his high school dances and proms, at the old convention center. “I have a deep connection to the island from those experiences,” he says.