A Two Parks a Day Habit

For her birthday, my friend and photo buddy, Anna (bird watcher and the business brain behind The Way Eye See It Photography), wanted to celebrate with a day at Brooker Creek Nature Preserve in Tarpon Springs. We met early in the morning, anticipating what birds we might spot, and hoping to see Swallow-tailed Kites, but the park was closed when we arrived. We stared at the locked gate, as though the power of our desire would make it magically unlock, and, when it didn't, we sat, contemplating our next move.

John Chestnut Sr Park is, fortunately, only a short drive from Brooker Creek, and we headed there, with no expectations, since we've had hit & miss photo ops on previous visits. We wanted to stop first at the butterfly garden, but got diverted by the loud pounding noises of a Pileated Woodpecker looking for food. It's not easy, despite their bright red heads, to spot pileateds among tall oak branches, and when we did, it flew away. I've yet to get a decent shot of a pileated, but I love watching them, and they're always a goal to look forward to. Alligators are common at John Chestnut, and I wanted to see one surface from an algae-covered pond, but no such luck there, either. We did spot a Blue Heron, though, and its color, combined with the algae, was spectacular.

Not to be deterred from our original birthday plan, Anna and I drove back to Brooker Creek a few days later, and wandered a few trails, followed some butterflies, got a split-second view of a Red-shouldered Hawk, and swatted mosquitoes. Early on, we could tell it was going to be the sort of day where patience might or might not pay off. We finally lucked out on the exit trail, when both a Palimedes Swallowtail and an Eastern Tiger Swallowtail, a new butterfly for us, landed and fed on close-by plants. Butterflies are among my most difficult, but favorite, photo challenges. Swallow-tailed Kites are an even more elusive challenge. We'd seen one once at Brooker Creek, and wanted to see one again, but it didn't feel like we would on this trip. So, we packed up our gear, making plans to hit John Chestnut Park next. Anna and I are shameless gawkers, constantly on the look-out for wildlife, and when, on the drive out, Anna spotted Gulf Fritillaries on daisies, we couldn't pass them up. But we had to, because there was a car behind us. So we drove the park's entry/exit loop again, hoping the butterflies hadn't zipped away, and this time pulled over. Not only was I rewarded with butterfly shots, we were shocked when first one, then another, Swallow-tailed Kite swooped over our heads. The first kite flew so close, it practically touched the hood of the car, and I was so surprised, all I could do was watch. Both kites sailed high in the sky above us for a few minutes, before disappearing behind a line of trees.

That's what I love about nature: the magic and the gifts. In my experience, there's a mystical element to nature, which I can't explain, but magical moments, like the Swallow-tailed Kites, almost always happen. Sometimes I have my camera handy, and sometimes I don't. And sometimes I have my camera handy, but am too caught up in the moment, or too surprised, to even think about using it. I don't mind if I don't get the shot; I'm just grateful to receive the gift.

When I'm in the zone, though, concentrating on a subject, there's nothing that compares. Later that afternoon, at John Chestnut, we followed the sound of a Red-shouldered Hawk calling. When we found it, we were able to watch it/photograph it for several minutes. The hawk sat on its oak branch, I stood below it, and it's as though we were connected by some invisible thread. It definitely knew I was there, because it looked right at me, and I stood as still as possible to let it know I wasn't a threat. In moments like this, when I'm connected to an animal, it feels like I'm in a bubble, and nothing exists outside it. These moments fade as abruptly as they occur, and I can always feel when the moment is over. The imaginary thread breaks, the bubble bursts, and I hear the noises of everyday life again.

I've never felt complete in anything I've ever done until I started taking photography seriously. I've always loved being in nature, and the combination is what makes me whole. In The Power of Myth, Joseph Campbell talks about "the peak experience." He explains it as "actual moments of your life when you experience your relationship to the harmony of being." Campbell's peak experiences came when he ran track. My peak experiences happen, camera ready (or not), in nature.

That's why I'll never give up my two parks a day habit.