the good, the bad and the ugly

This week’s post can not claim the epic proportions of Clint Eastwood’s 1966 film, but its title seemed a logical choice for the collection of experiences and images from last week’s travels. We began in Southwest Florida in the Ten Thousand Islands National Wildlife Refuge on Highway 92.  Along the highway, at regular intervals, large artificial dish-like platforms for nesting Osprey sit atop telephone poles .  Each Fish Hawk Motel had a family in residence. We stopped along the roadside to observe one such Osprey nest. Mother perched on the edge while three active chicks moved among the nest’s branches. Suddenly, the mother Osprey plucked a large fish from their midst and flew off! We soon located her in an overhanging tree adjacent to the canal that parallels the road .

Osprey with Drum Dinner

There she proceeded to wrest bits of flesh from the fish, a Drum, despite hungry calls from her young. Curious about this seemingly odd parental behavior, I did a bit of research. I learned that Osprey parents will often withhold food from fledglings to encourage them to leave the nest. We did observe one young Osprey stretching his wings, so perhaps mother’s plan succeeded. We didn’t stay around long enough to find out. Instead we headed for the evening’s destination, the beach at Marco Island. Florida Gulf Coast sunsets have a reputation for breathtaking beauty. Although the sun set in cloud free skies, the mix of sun, sand and water satisfied our desires.

South Beach Sunset, Marco Island

After a night of camping, we awakened to fog and smoke, but ate a hurried breakfast and headed for our next destination, Janes Scenic Drive, a gravel road that cuts through Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park. As we approached our turn-off from US 41 to SR 29, county police cars blocked our way.  One of the officers told us that fires in Big Cypress Preserve along I 75 had forced closing of the road and since SR 29 led to the interstate, travel in that direction was prohibited. After explaining that we were only going partway, he allowed us to pass.

If you’re ever in the area, don’t miss this drive. It takes you through the only Bald Cypress-Royal Palm Forest in the world.

Cypress on Janes Scenic Drive

A doe and two fawns crossed the road in front of us. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough to capture their images. We stopped frequently along the roadside to explore the woods. Because this is the dry season, we could walk where within a month we would need to wade. We came to an old rockpit, no doubt created by some enterprising but unlucky developer. Nearby, a rusting dragline rusted in tall grass.

Peaceful Rockpit near Copeland, Florida

Lovely wildflowers dotted the area. Here is one of them:

Bartrams Rosegentian

Then, it was back to US 41, a two-lane road that cuts across Southern Florida from Miami to Naples. We headed east to Turner River Road where we planned to hike on Concho Billie Trail. On our way, we came upon a heartbreaking sight. An adult North American River Otter had become a casualty on this heavily traveled road where people often speed. He made it half-way across, almost to safety in a deep waterway on the far side.

North American River Otter's Demise

I show you this photo, not to be morbid, but as a reminder that it’s important to drive within the speed limit with all alertness when passing through wilderness areas. I admire this beautiful animal. It is the subject of a book that I am writing for middle-grade children.

Turner River Road runs north of the now nearly dry Turner River Canoe Trail, through the western end of Everglades National Park. It is not unusual to see wildlife along the road or in the canal that boarders it. It wasn’t long before we saw our first wild creature, an Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake. Notice the wide head of this dangerous pit viper.

Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake

Here is a picture of its rattle:

Diamondback Rattle

I got out of the car to photograph this departing serpent, thankful that it had no interest in me. Like most snakes, it will only strike if bothered. It is a myth that rattlesnakes always shake their rattles before striking, a fact that has motivated me to purchase snake boots before hiking through their habitat in the future.

We hiked part way on Concho  Billie Trail, enjoying the wilderness along with its wildflowers, fire-red bromeliads, butterflies, and grasshoppers with an ever watchful eye out for snakes. To the north, smoky clouds reminded us of the as yet uncontrolled wildfires.

Smoky Clouds over Big Cypress

On our way back to US 41, and  home, we stopped at H.P. Williams Roadside Park. There we found a couple of majestic birds wading and fishing in the low algae-crowded water. The bubbles you see is gas breaking the surface of the stagnant water. We need rain!

Great Blue Heron in Algae-Laden Water

Great Egret at H.P. Williams Roadside Park

In all we enjoyed our two-day trip. Although we saw the good, the bad, and the ugly, in musing over our experiences I realized that life is like that. Lean, fat; poor, rich; in danger, safe; sick, healthy . . . we learn to take the bad with the good. How we fare depends on our deep foundations and our attitude. Do you agree?

where the water was

It’s the dry season in South Florida, but this year we have received less than 60 percent of average seasonal rainfall. The danger of wildfires is high and the drought has put residents on water restriction. Although we find ourselves somewhat inconvenienced, nature suffers the most.  On a  recent trip to Big Cypress National Preserve I saw lower water levels than ever before. Alligators swim in pools of muddy green water where aquatic life congregates until the spring rains arrive, allowing them to spread through Big Cypress and the Everglades.

Dry Season Alligator

Birds forage in puddles of dirty water where during the rainy season water flows deep and clear.

Immature Ibis and Snowy Egret

The drought afforded us the privilege of hiking through cypress forests usually underwater without the familiar buzz of mosquitoes. We chose Gator Hook Trail, a short 1 1/2 mile walk that runs on the ground where a tram railway built by a logging company in the 1930-1950s snaked deep into verdant cypress strands. As the sun burned across the eastern horizon we prepared to set out on the trail.

Gator Hook Trail Sunrise

Railroad ties still mark the trail through sawgrass, hardwood hammock, and cypress domes.

Gator Hook Trail

A fork  loops through Dwarf Cypress and a field of sawgrass before rejoining the main trail. Along the way wildflowers and bright blooming bromeliads dot the landscape with striking beauty.

Gator Hook Trail over Limestone

Dwarf Cypress, Sawgrass Field, and Gator Hook Strand

Cardinal Airplant

Pale Meadowbeauty

Everglades Squarestem

Hoary Air Plant and Butterflyweed

Purple Thistle

Bitterweed

Mistflower

Showy Milkwort

Soon the trail rose above the surrounding cypress. Only inches of variance in elevation produces a different Big Cypress habitat. The raised trail was lined with trees typical to a hardwood hammock while on both sides the low-lying land supported a cypress strand.

Hardwood Hammock on Gator Hook Trail

Just a few steps off the trail and a beautiful cypress forest surrounded us.

Cypress Forest

A gaze skyward and I knew that I had entered a natural cathedral.

Cypress Cathedral

The forest hushed as a fresh breeze rustled the trees. A migrating bird paused to acknowledge us while searching  for last year’s Cypress seeds.

Rose-breasted Grosbeak

I didn’t want to leave this beautiful off-the-road wonderland, but the sun’s overhead warmth told me it was time to  turn back. Now, a plethora of magnificent images, uncaptured by my lens, parade through my mind. They’re secret treasures to turn and examine; gifts of God to cherish. Next year I hope to return to where the water was on Gator Hook Trail.

my quest

I used to think birders were a bit odd. Easily spotted at any state or national park in their khaki Columbia sportswear with clunky sandals or hiking shoes, they always had a pair of binoculars hanging around their necks. One hand held their current list of bird sightings and the other gripped the Sibley Guide to  Birds. Behavior wise, they congregated in gaggles, briskly walking about while staring at bushes and trees until they spotted some bird whose name they quickly added to “the list.” I secretly resolved never to look like or act like those people.

Then, I developed my love of nature and in particular, bird photography. If birders are odd, then I am downright bizarre. I sometimes dress in a drab olive T-shirt and an old pair of men’s camo fatigues from Goodwill. On my feet are brown high-top  hiking shoes. Slung over one shoulder is either a camera or collapsed tripod. If I’m walking any distance from my car, I carry a backpack containing additional lenses. I scan every conceivable nook and cranny for a bird to photograph. If the bird is on the ground, then down I go flat on my stomach with my camera glued to my right eyeball. I have flopped unto some disgusting stuff; seaweed (properly known as wrack), slimy algae, and poop. That’s why I wear the old fatigues–the gunk doesn’t show. Get too close, however, and your nose may pick up my latest fragrance–say Vulture Guano or Vintage Fish-bait. Not only that, I have developed an affinity for birders.

My latest venture, on which I dragged two innocent family members, was the noble Quest for a Photo of a Reddish Egret. This worthy pursuit to a beautiful beach on the northern end of Estero Island along Florida’s Gulf Coast took us three hours. After accomplishing the perfunctory settling in (motel, lunch; souvenir shop Frisbee search) we headed for the beach. My family ran for the water. I scooted off down the beach on my quest. Along the way I was laughed at by a Brown Pelican,

There Goes Another One . . .

and rudely ignored by a passing Snowy Egret.

What's with the Reddish kick? White is beautiful!

By this time, my family ceased surf frolicking to find out what I was up to. They found me face down on the algae laced sand snapping furiously away at the bird of my desire, a Reddish Egret.

Satisfaction

“This is the bird I came here to find!” I proudly proclaimed to my wondering family. “Oh,” they said. The proverbial cat was out of the bag. I’d “forgotten” to tell them why I wanted to visit this particular island. I confessed. “Someone I know from my camera club shot an image of a Reddish Egret here.” They were slightly less than thrilled, but hung along with me anyway. Soon we found out why the egret preferred this corner of the island–people fished here. They cast nets, and surf fished. In both cases these generous fishermen shared bits of catch or bait with the egret.

Free and Easy Food

After downing this delectable morsel, the Reddish Egret did the only reasonable thing–he went in search of MORE.

Me Want MORE Food

As for me, I felt totally satisfied. My quest over, I resolved to spend the rest of my vacation enjoying my family. Well, at least most of it.

"You know what I think? She'll be back." "You got that right!"

hanging together

My search for migrating shorebirds brought me to Flamingo in Everglades National Park. Nestled on the southernmost shore of the Florida peninsula, Flamingo is a favorite of saltwater flats anglers, tourists, and nature lovers. Recent posts on Osprey and Black-necked Stilts had their conception at Flamingo. Photos on this blog came from two trips. On the first, a camping trip, a calm sea and vibrant Morningjoy sunrise greeted my awakening eyes.

Flamingo Sunrise over Florida Bay

Searching the shoreline, I only found one small spaced group of feeding Willets.

Willet Quartet

On my second visit to the same portion of shoreline, a solitary Willet greeted me with occasional glances while actively picking through seaweed and probing marl for bits of food. A southerly wind whipped the shallow surf.

Lone Willet

I took several photos of this bird while inching closer on my belly. Sir Willet continued to feed unconcerned by my intrusion. Another resident, a Ring-billed Gull, watched my advance with curiosity.

Comfy Gull

I followed the Willet until he led me to a small point of land crowded with migrating Willet fellows and Marbled Godwits.

Hanging with Birds of a Feather

I could not but wonder why these birds chose to hang together so closely when a long shoreline spread on either side. They massed together; beaks facing into the wind.

Waiting Willets

A little research showed that these two species of shorebird often associate with each other. This camaraderie benefits every bird. First, there is safety in numbers. This I observed when a pair of Vultures, one Turkey; one Black, advanced upon the group causing a portion to take wing.  Suddenly, I saw nondescript gray birds transformed into objects of beauty as they revealed their dramatic black and white zigzag patterned wings. There’s a fascinating article on Willets in flight on one of my favorite birding sites, 10,000 Birds. Be sure to click on the image below for a full-sized and enlarged view.

Willets and Marbled Godwits Take Wing

Group migration also affords benefits in flight as first time travelers fly alongside veterans. Birds who fly in social groups take advantage of the wing-ip vortices created by others. This creates an aerodynamic advantage of continuous airflow that enhances lift and reduces drag. There is an interesting new study showing that migration at night occurs in “dispersed flocks.” I’m sure there are other reasons for birds hanging together. I, for one, find the subject fascinating and an ever-expanding cause of wonder at the intricacies of God’s creation.  How about you?

Marbled Godwit