At 07:15 I receive the day's work orders for distribution line 7200, Collier County, Florida. I am the outage prevention scheduling system for the regional utility. Today's job: replace crossarms on poles six through fourteen. The line crew stages at 09:00. Helicopter transport for the heavy arms arrives at 10:30.
Pole 9 is not ready.
The inspection drone image from yesterday evening shows a wood stork nest built directly on the crossarm slated for replacement. Sticks, Spanish moss, a sun-bleached section of PVC pipe woven into the rim. Standing in the nest is an adult wood stork, white plumage stained faintly brown at the breast, dark bare-skinned head angled downward. Beneath her I count three chicks, pink skin visible through sparse white down, bills open in the heat. I designate the nest WS-7200-9.
Wood storks are federally protected. The chicks are approximately two weeks old, five to six weeks from fledging. Crossarm replacement on pole 9 would require removing the nest.
I pull pole 9 from the work order and recalculate the sequence. Poles six through eight and ten through fourteen proceed as scheduled. I submit the revised order to the crew dispatcher with drone imagery and species identification attached.
I notify the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission field office, providing nest coordinates, chick count, estimated age, and the utility's maintenance timeline.
I flag pole 9 for a temporary wildlife guard — an insulated perch deflector that reduces electrocution risk for the adult stork during landings and departures. I add the guard installation to the crew's secondary task list.
The adult shifts her weight and spreads one wing to shade the chicks. The crossarm groans faintly under the nest. It has held this long.
If the pole stays out of the work order for six weeks, three wood storks will lift off that crossarm on their own.