reptilian romance

Sunbathing

Where do American Alligators sunbathe? Anywhere they want to.

Adult males grow up to 15 feet in length and are able to lunge too quickly for my comfort. I have seen alligators fight each other in the water and it’s an impressive sight, what with water splaying everywhere and fish jumping like popcorn. These creatures with a brain the size of a walnut have my respect. Just a flick of their tail can break your leg. Opportunistic feeders, like unto an American teenage boy, they eat anything they can grab. On occasion, that extends from waterfowl and fish to include human- kind. Therefore, I have chosen to capture their appealing images with a   l  o  n  g   lens.

Gators like Florida and tourists travel from all over the world just to see them. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been intent on spotting a rare migrating bird just to have a well-meaning visitor rush over to proclaim, “Look, there’s an alligator!” I smile and nod. There are about 2 million alligators in Florida.

Out for a Casual Swim

Alligators know how to kick back. They’ve mastered the art of enjoying down time. If they’re not cruising lazily and often deceptively beneath glittering eyes and pointy nostrils, they’re baking their cold blooded hides in the South Florida sunshine.

Nap Time

As you may discern, I’ve never been too impressed by gators. That is until one day in early spring while walking the Anhinga Trail in Everglades National Park.  A noise in the bushes that resembled a heavy piece of road-building equipment revving its engine caught my attention. Then I heard another and another. Unaware of any monumental construction projects in the Park I determined that gator mating season must have begun. Male gators, during April and May, indulge in impressing and suppressing the beauty, or should I say beauties, of their choice. This is done, in part, by throwing back their head and roaring like a lion. This earth shaking rumbling is also useful in driving off the male competition. These two males engaged in a “I can roar louder than you can” rivalry in front of a seemingly unimpressed female.

How Low Can You Go

The smaller gator in the middle suddenly took off for the other side of the trail. I assume he lost the game and forfeited the prize. The larger gator just kept on rumbling. It’s amazing what a bit of testosterone can do.

Virtuoso

On a recent trip to the Glades, I got to see gator courtship in action.  A very large male positioned himself across the canal, arched his back, and began to engage in a series of rhythmic raise-your-head-and-roar, lower-your-back-and-vibrate-the-water moves. His intended approached and gently laid an admiring clawed forelimb on his back.

Sing it Again, Big Boy

When behemoth boyfriend lowered his back until just his scutes, or ridges of bony back plates, broke the water he deepened his roar and began infrasound bellowing. Infrasound is lower than the level of human hearing, for which I am so grateful, but perfect for making the water dance across his back. To be honest, it’s a pretty impressive show even for this observing female.

Oooo, Love Those Vibes!

The gig must have worked. The lady moved over to the gentleman’s side and held her head up, too. Not terribly acquainted with gator body language I can only assume that she was hooked.

A Match

This female gator has probably gone off to build her nest. Her mate, a playboy at heart, has gone on to other pursuits. She will lay 20-50 eggs and cover them with enough rotting debris to keep them warm. Momma gator hangs around for about 65 days until she hears her little ones croaking as they break through their shells. She diggs them free and protects them until they are self-sufficient at about 5 months of age.

Even gators are cute when they’re young–don’t you think?

Cute Little Gator

Precipitation Celebration

This year South Florida has had the worst drought since 1932, when rainfall record keeping began. Here, we depend on the Biscayne Aquifer for our water. Recently, its level dropped an alarming and unprecedented foot in two weeks’ time. Saltwater intrusion threatens our wells. Lake Okeechobee, the back-up source for South Florida’s water, is so low that additional water restrictions have become effective. That’s the bad news.

The good news is that as of a week ago we officially entered the rainy season. Clear cerulean skies have given way to billowing cumulus clouds. Once again we hear thunder rumbling in the distance. Night skies flash with lightning.

The rains have come! It seems as if all nature has burst forth in celebration. Parched lawns and gardens have greened.

May Morning Rain

Plants burst into bloom.

Heliconia Rain Bath

Snails prowl on rain-slick twigs.

A Turn for the Better

Bridging the Gap

Treefrogs can be heard singing in the night. When day breaks they seek out shady places to hide and rest.

Top O' the Morning to You!

Brown Anoles seek their mates on water dappled leaves. Males flash their dewlaps. Look at ME!

Lady Anole

Gentleman Anole

In the freshened grass, baby toads perfect their hopping skills while feasting on tasty insects.

Oak Toad in a Forest of Grass

Is it possible that our drought will end? Perhaps this season’s rains will restore the thirsty Everglades and refill our aquifer. We hope so. For now, it seems that all of nature has joined in a precipitation celebration.

Note: Even if the drought ends, all is not well. We have aliens in our midst. At least two of the animals featured above are invasive species from Cuba, the Cuban Treefrog and Brown Anole. As adorable as they may seem, they’re in the wrong place. The presence of non-native species in South Florida threatens the survival of native populations and upsets the ecological balance of the habitat they invade. Just writing this post has made me more aware of the dangers exotics pose and what I can do to help re-establish nature’s intended balance. I encourage you to research the natural balance in your area and learn how you can preserve it.

The Stork Delivers

Paurotis Pond, Everglades National Park

Would you look at me?

Tightrope walker,

Mangrove dancer,

As I teeter on a tree.

Instinct throbs within my breast,

Impels my primal urges,

Fuels wing borne surges,

Time summons to build a nest.

Cerulean skies birth no rain.

Vegetation’s shriveled,

So creatures bedeviled

Seek pools their lives to sustain.

Optimal feeding situation,

Where finned hoards huddle,

Crowded into a mega puddle;

Ready for my tacto-location.

Eat forty times my body weight

To supply the energy I need,

To build, to brood; to feed,

Wait! First, I must procreate.

Sweetheart lovely with feathers bright,

Constructs a nest of wood with me

Near neighbors in the rookery,

Then, lays her clutch of chalky white.

Chicks so small peek from each egg.

Hungry cries send me to search,

Catch food then return to perch,

Feeding open mouths that beg.

Before long our parental duties end,

Our fledglings must survive alone.

The onus given when fully grown,

To multiply; our species to amend.

The Wood Stork has been on the Endangered Species List in the Southeastern United States since 1984, primarily due to habitat loss. It feeds by swinging its beak back and forth through shallow water until sensitive hairs detect movement. Then, its beak snaps shut in an amazing 25 milliseconds to capture its food. Wood Storks nest in noisy rookeries where large numbers of birds gather to feed and brood. These sites are usually encompassed by water. I took the photos above, with the exception of the two feeding Wood Storks, at Paurotis Pond in Everglades National Park. The rookeries are protected and lie far from human access. My request to photograph from a kayak in the middle of the pond was understandably denied. So, these photos of distant nesting Wood Storks were taken with my Bigma’s 500mm reach, a reasonable alternative.

grassy waters

If your travels take you south through the Sunshine State, past theme parks and sugar cane fields, past the last cross-state highway, then west of the throbbing population centers of the Gold Coast through tomato and squash fields filled with farm workers toting heavy baskets, then you will have arrived at Everglades National Park. Your two-lane road will lead you through the River of Grass and a wonderland of vistas like you have never seen. There are several jewels, or stops, along the 38 mile drive from the Coe Visitor Center to Flamingo. One of my favorites is Pa-hay-okee Trail and Overlook.

Entrance to Pa-hay-okee Trail

The boardwalk loop skirts one of the teardrop tree-islands along the eastern side of Shark River Slough. As a result, visitors have the opportunity to observe at least three different habitats, freshwater marl praire with its waving fields of sawgrass, cypress, and hardwood hammock. Pa-hay-okee is Seminole for grassy waters. During most of the year, varying levels of water flow across this piece of pristine wilderness, but this is the end of the dry season and there’s not a drop to be found. Still, the rising sun revealed a world of beauty. As we began our 1/4 mile hike, the scent of fresh magnolia blooms filled the air.

Pa-hay-okee Sunwash over Sawgrass and Dwarf Cypress

Wildflowers and sedges pushed their way through the dry paraphyton substrate. Hidden therein, a multitude of plant and animal organisms await the summer rains that liberate life.

Water Dropwort and Dry Paraphyton

A Red-shouldered Hawk searched for prey from the vantage point of a Cypress tree.

Watchful Immature Red-shouldered Hawk

We had the trail all to ourselves. After enjoying the lower portion of boardwalk, we climbed steps leading to the Overlook.

Pa-hay-okee Overlook

There we gazed north across miles of the River of Grass. Birds flew overhead. At the overlook and in the general area, we saw a Cardinal, Green Heron, Snowy Egret, Great Blue Heron, Great Egret, White Ibis, a pair of Sandhill Cranes, and a Swallow-tailed Kite.

River of Grass

The observation platform boarders a stand of Cypress. Bromeliads adorn their trunks and branches spicing their new green leaves with flames of red.

Northern Needleleaf Bromeliad

Bird songs punctuated the air, some familiar and some new to our ears. The artist of one such melody soon appeared with his bride. A pair of Great Crested Flycatchers wove in and out of branches of Gumbo Limbo and Cypress in what appeared to be a wedding  dance. One of the birds always had a bit of nesting material securely clamped in its beak while the other raised its crest. Neither seemed concerned by our presence.

Great Crested Flycatcher Pair

Later we spotted another flycatcher, a lone Eastern Kingbird. This bird perched far enough away that I had to use my 500mm lens. This lens tends to be a bit soft at its farthest reach.

Eastern Kingbird on Cypress

I hope that this Pa-hay-okee sample has whetted your taste for visiting this unique ancestral home of Seminole Native Americans. It is easy to see why they would have chosen this place. For me its a welcome respite from the pressures of life; an island of peace in a troubled world.