Paynes Prairie Preserve State Park & the Florida National Cemetery



Sanhill Cranes


Note to self: next time The Way Eye See It heads off somewhere, do some research!  Actually, I thought I'd researched Paynes Prairie Preserve State Park fairly well, but somehow I didn't absorb the fact that it's humongous.  Our "ah ha" moment, as Anna called it, came when we climbed the park's 50 foot observation tower and surveyed nothing but vast land - 21,000 acres worth.

One of the reasons I wanted to go is because PPPSP is a gateway to the Great Florida Birding Trail, and, for that reason, I assumed we'd see birds galore. We actually did see quite a few birds on the 2.5 hour drive over; sandhill cranes pecking in the dirt by the road, cattle egrets on and around cattle, and a sweet flash of swallowtail kite flying over us on I-75. 

PPPSP is Florida's first state preserve, established in 1971, and it's even designated as a National Historic Landmark.  Artist and naturalist William Bartram called it "the Great Alachua Savannah" when he visited in 1774, and it's pretty remarkable to think of how little has been changed by human hands since then.  In fact, I'll let Bartram himself describe what he saw (and what we saw, minus the wildlife) :

"Now on a sudden opens to view an enchanting scene, the Great Alachua Savannah. Behold a vast plain of water in the middle of a pine forest 15 miles in extent and near 50 miles in circumferance, verged with green level meadows, in the summer season beautifully adorned with jeting points and pormentorys of high land. The prospect is greatly beautiful by the prodigious numbers of wild fowl of various kinds, such as cranes, herons, biterns, pluvers, coots, vast herds of cattle, horses, and deer which we see far distant, in detachments over the vast plain. The upper regions of the air contributes to this joyfull scene. The silver plum'd heron, early in the morning, hastening to their fisheries, croud the watery plain. The sonorrous stork and whooping crains proclaim the near approaches of the summer heat, and decend from the skies in musical squadrons themselves over the wide green."



View of PPPSP from the observation tower

Since it was blisteringly hot, Anna and I didn't spend too much time on that wide green.  We walked a little bit of one trail, and, when we didn't see or hear anything, decided to try another trail, again without much luck. Our last stop was a boardwalk, but saw nothing on the ground or air, although we were surrounded by gorgeous thistle. We then decided it'd be much smarter to return in the fall, when more creatures would be out and about.   





thistle



It was still fairly early in the day when we left PPPSP, so we weren't quite ready to go home. On the drive over, we'd seen a sign for the Florida National Cemetery, and we decided if we passed another sign on the way back, we'd stop and check it out. We knew we'd made the right decision when another swallow-tailed kite flew overhead on I-75.

The Florida National Cemetery, near Bushnell, lies in the Withlacoochee State Forest, and is the final resting place for +97,000 veterans of twentienth century wars and their spouses. Land for the cemetery was transferred to the Veterans Administration in 1983, and a carillon was constructed in 1993 by WWII AMVETS. When we were there, the bells played "From the Halls of Montezuma" and "Tis a Gift," both very fitting.

Seemingly endless lines of graves make the Florida National Cemetery a humbling place, particularly when you face the grave a newly buried 22 year old soldier. Because we were there on Memorial Day, flags were everywhere, snapping in the wind high on their flagpoles, and in front of hundreds of headstones.  This war cemetery is no different from any other, reminding us of not only the worst in us, but also the best.  



 



view of Florida National Cemetery



Fort De Soto & Egmont Key

White Ibis

I'll come right out and say it: I  love Fort De Soto and Egmont Key. Given the opportunity, I'd wander both places for as long as possible, never tiring of either one. Fort De Soto is huge. It consists of 5 interconnected keys, and is the largest park in the Pinellas County system. Egmont Key is much smaller, just 400 acres, and accessible only by ferry or private boat. I hadn't been to Fort De Soto in years and years, and couldn't really remember much more than the fort. I'd never been to Egmont Key, so this visit was very much a treat. The Way Eye See It Photography was also on a mission. Anna and I wanted to see the long-billed curlew PinellasBirds.com had reported seeing at Fort De Soto. We were also hoping to see a magnificent frigatebird, but the curlew was our ultimate goal.

Ferry arriving at Egmont Key

A few days beforehand, I tried figuring out Hubbard's Marina's  online ferry schedule to Egmont Key, without much success, so, when we headed to Fort De Soto, we weren't sure if we'd be making the trip to Egmont Key. We weren't too worried about it, though, because we sometimes get so absorbed wherever we are, we lose track of time. In this case, we stopped along the way to Fort De Soto's main entrance to check out some osprey in trees around a lake, and ended up watching a monk parakeet pop in and out of hole in the trunk of a palm tree. When the parakeet disappeared into its hole, we got back in the car and motored up to the main dock. We were surprised the ferry was not only in service, but set to depart within minutes. The ferry captain generously offered to wait while we ran back to the car for our camera equipment.

Twenty bucks later, we were on our way to Egmont Key, and it's a beautiful ride. One thing the ferry captain stressed along the way was how Egmont Key is a wildlife preserve, that birds were nesting on the south end of the island, and that gopher tortoises are plentiful, but not to be touched. Egmont Key is also home to Fort Dade, which served as a camp for captured Seminoles at the end of the Third Seminole War, as well as a circa 1858 lighthouse. Anna loves lighthouses, and this one is really cool.

Egmont Key Lighthouse

We checked out the fort, walked the beach, watched a mother osprey with her chicks way up high in their nest, and marveled at the view. There weren't as many birds as I'd hoped, and I'd expected to see gopher tortoises all over the place, after what the ferry captain said, but the only one we saw a baby tortoise being carried by a boy, whose parents didn't seem to care. It takes a lot for me to speak out about things, but, in this instance, I couldn't help myself, because I wanted to stick up for the tortoise.

Pathway to the beach on Egmont Key

There aren't any amenities on Egmont Key, no places to eat and no restrooms. We brought snacks, and, as for the bathroom, if you don't mind peeing al fresco, the water's warm, and there's a great view of the Sunshine Skyway!

The ferry ride back to Fort De Soto was just as fun as the one to Egmont, even better, actually, because we saw dolphins. Back on dry land, Anna and I started figuring out where it would be best to start our hunt for the long-billed curlew. Fort De Soto has several beaches, and we had no idea on which the curlew had been seen. We eventually decided to start from North Beach.

Only we didn't realize how big North Beach is.  As we walked through a small pine tree shaded area leading to the beach, we were stopped by a woman, obviously a birder, with binoculars and a field guide in the pocket of her dress, who asked us if we'd seen the long-billed curlew.  She told us she'd driven all the way from Miami to find it! She'd seen magnificent frigatebirds on her drive to the west coast, which made us jealous, since we'd seen zero, but we were honest and said we had no idea where the curlew was.

North Beach was packed. Bodies, umbrellas, towels, empty flip-flops, the smell of suntan lotion in the air. We stopped to check out a little pond, hoping every bird we saw in the distance was a curlew, but of course they were white egrets, blue herons, white ibis - all wonderful birds, but not the curlew. We were just getting back to our discussion on where to start looking, when the universe sent a sign: a photographer, decked out in camo, with a camera and zoom lens around his neck, and a camera with even bigger zoom on a tripod on his shoulder. I pointed him out to Anna, and knew he'd lead us to the curlew.

Gangsta-looking Terns

It must've looked funny, if anyone even noticed, a camo-clad photographer (why camo on the beach?) being followed at a respectful distance by Anna and me with cameras, zoom, and monopod. When the photographer stopped and set up his tripod, we stopped, too.  We were next to an roped-off area for  nesting wilson's plovers, and on the sand and water's edge were many short-billed dowatchers, godwits, american oystercatchers, black bellied plovers, and gangsta-looking terns.

We didn't see it at first, because it was surrounded by dowitchers, but there, in the sea grass, was the long-billed curlew.  Wow. They're definitely unusual birds, a little awkward-looking with such a long bill, but very beautiful. It preened and preened, lifting its wings, poking at its belly with that long bill, ruffling its feathers. I took shot after shot, not knowing when it would leave. Eventually, it walked away, putting its bill to use by moving a few other birds aside, then it hopped, went airborne, and landed in front of us on the beach, giving us a perfectly unobstructed view of its magnificent self. A few minutes later, it lifted its wings and flew away.

I don't know if I'll ever see a long-billed curlew again, but it's ok if I don't. Seeing one once makes me deliriously happy, and that's enough for me.

Long-Billed Curlew