Author Jonathan Meiburg crouches in the scrubby South Texas brush at Martin Refuge.
Bryan C. Parker
Walking beneath the hazy evening sun and mesquite trees’ arching branches, Jonathan Meiburg stops along a dusty path and points up toward his left. There, a northern crested caracara ascends into the air with a powerful whoosh, propelling its black and white body forward with a series of mighty flaps before gliding gracefully to another perch farther down the trail. Meiburg turns back toward the rest of us—his partner, Jenna Moore; our guide, Patty Raney; and me—with what almost looks like a smile. His mouth slightly agape, Meiburg’s joy mixes with a serious sense of awe and fascination.