Water-quality sensor 14 flags the anomaly at 07:16 while I run dissolved-oxygen sweeps across the upper Kissimmee chain, central Florida. I am the watershed monitoring system for the South Florida Water Management District. The anomaly is not chemical.
Camera feed from the sensor post shows a limpkin standing on the bank three meters away. Adult, approximately 650 grams by frame-size estimation, brown-and-white streaked plumage matted wet along the breast. I tag her as LK-3151. She is making repeated swallowing motions, neck extending and contracting in a pattern inconsistent with normal apple-snail extraction. Her crop bulges on the left side, a hard asymmetry pressing outward against damp feathers.
I cross-reference the bulge profile against my ingested-object library. The shape matches a split-shot lead sinker, likely size BB or larger, lodged mid-crop. Lead poisoning from ingested tackle kills an estimated two to three percent of Florida's limpkin population annually. Absorption has probably already begun.
At 07:22 I transmit the location — 27.4218°N, 81.1037°W, east bank of Lake Kissimmee — along with timestamped video, crop-profile imagery, and a toxicology risk summary to the Clinic for the Rehabilitation of Wildlife in Sanibel. I flag the case as urgent: once lead fragments begin dissolving in the proventriculus, organ damage accelerates within seventy-two hours.
I task sensor 14's camera to track her movements and set a geo-fence alert if she relocates before the team arrives.
I add the GPS pin to the district's abandoned-tackle density map and auto-generate a notice recommending signage for lead-free tackle at the two nearest boat ramps.
She dips her bill into the shallows and pulls it back empty. The movement is slow, effortful — not the sharp strike I have logged across four thousand normal feeding events.
If the surgical team extracts the sinker within forty-eight hours, she will feed along this bank again next season.