Dunedin Hammock

Have you ever forgotten how much you've enjoyed a place, then rediscovered it, and it's even better than you remembered? That's how I feel about Hammock Park in Dunedin. I grew up in Dunedin, and, over the years, spent time walking the trails, but only recently have I started really exploring the Hammock. I'm in love.

The Hammock was surveyed some 158 years ago, and the North-South boundaries remain to this day. It was purchased by the City of Dunedin in 1965, and, in 1974, the Dunedin Garden Club helped create the first self-guided nature trails. There are 5 miles of trails in this 90 acre natural park, and each trail is different.

The Skinner Tail is the Hammock's main drag, and it runs alongside a stream, where I've watched great blue herons, white egrets, green herons, and cormorants do their thing. I always follow the Skinner Trail to the Friends of the Hammock's new butterfly garden, located next to Andrews Memorial Chapel. Butterflies are one of my favorite subjects to photograph, but they don't make it easy, unless they're in caterpillar state, which many of the monarchs were. Fat and stripey, they were in abundance on this trip, many munching leaves, first up, then down, as though the leaves were corn-on-the-cob.

My usual route is to backtrack from the butterfly garden to the Sugarberry Trail, because I always see something on the Sugarberry. Turtles are plentiful, and further down the trail there's always the promise of a raccoon tip-toeing across the trail and into the water, or a green heron searching for food. Today, I discovered a tangerine tree packed with tangerines. I'm used to seeing orange trees in the Hammock, but had never come across wild tangerines before. They're fiery orange when the sun shines on them. Some unripe tangerines had fallen to the ground, and it was hilarious watching a squirrel attempting to roll one up to a tree branch.

When I finished the Sugarberry Trail, I decided to try my luck at the end of the Skinner Trail, where there's a large pond. There are always birds there, and I was curious if I'd see anyone new. Along the way, I took the time to notice wild flowers, which I don't always do, and was rewarded with both irises and spiderwort, both in the most spectacular shades of purple. The usual gang was hanging out at the pond: snowy egrets, great blue herons, anhingas, and osprey soaring overhead. Nobody new, but that's ok. I'm never disappointed with the same old same old when it comes to nature!

From visit to visit, I never know what I'll encounter at Hammock Park. Sometimes there's more action than others, and either way is fine with me. I'm a wanderer at heart, and being outside is my joy. With no expectations, I know there's always the promise of things to come.

Our Winter Star

Once upon a time, there was a little dolphin caught in a crabtrap. But, in this story with a happy ending, she was discovered by a fisherman, who called the Florida Wildlife and Fish Conservation Commission. They, in turn, called the Clearwater Marine Aquarium, a marine hospital and rehabilitation center, where this dolphin, named Winter, was given a second chance at life.

Against all odds, Winter has blossomed at the aquarium. Although she was intact when saved from the crabtrap, Winter later lost her tail. Remarkably, she's learned to swim without one, which doesn't seem to hold her back, but it's damaging her spine. In normal circumstances, she'd use an up and down motion with her tail to propel herself. Her new swim pattern, though, is to move side to side like a fish. Luckily for Winter, prostheses designer, Kevin Carroll, heard about her on the radio, and decided to create a prosthetic tail. After many trials and errors, Kevin's team finally designed a tail Winter can use, and she practices swimming with it every day. Not that Winter always makes it easy. In the words of an aquarium trainer, "the only plan is what Winter has in mind."

Winter shares her tank with an older dolphin named Panama. It took Panama awhile to accept Winter, but she finally caved in to Winter's attention, and who can blame her? There's something infectious about Winter, something beyond her ability to overcome. She almost radiates a kind of happiness, a sense of being carefree. What I loved most about visiting her on this occassion was how uncooperative she was during the aquarium's demo. Winter swam out of her enclosure for a few seconds, then turned around and went back in. Panama wasn't that interested in the crowd, either, but the aquarium is about information, not performance, so it's no big deal. Sticking around paid off, though. Once the crowd wandered away, Panama leapt through the air several times, and Winter swam out to play. They were both the essence of Dolphin: joy.

Winter is truly an inspiration. Not only is she an ambassador for those who need prosthetics, she's living proof we can overcome our obstacles. My friend Anna's 3 year old granddaughter, Eve, thinks every dolphin she sees now is Winter, and when you ask her about Winter's tail, Eve's reply is always, "We have to buy her a new one." Sometimes life really is that simple. Winter has been our star here in Pinellas County since she was a baby, but she's about to go global. A film crew is in the area making "Dolphin Tale," due out in September 2011. We've all heard of the Little Engine that Could. Now, everyone's going to know the Little Dolphin that Could.

Where Have All the Peacocks Gone?

One of my favorite places to visit and photograph was the Dunedin Cemetery in Dunedin, FL. It was unique, in my opinion, because of the 40 or so peafowl, who used to make the cemetery their home. In the past few years, though, people from neighborhoods around the cemetery have complained so much, the City sent our peacocks packing.

The Dunedin Cemetery is 7.75 acres of beautiful oak trees, blossoming frangipani and golden rain trees, floating butterflies, and many varieties of birds. It was established in 1876, and is the final resting place of many of Dunedin's founding "pioneer" families. It's tucked away on a busy road, not visible from the street, and, peafowl or no, is a serene haven.

Nevertheless, the peacocks were the main reason I loved going to the cemetery. I never fed them, but enjoyed observing them and photographing them. April is their mating season, and it was fun to watch the peacocks scratch in the dirt, fan, then shake their tail feathers, as they tried to attract peahens. It was equally fun watching peahens pass by them with ho-hum glances, although, obviously the displays worked at some point, because a few months later sweet, fluffy chicks would arrive. I never realized peacocks could fly until I saw one go up into an oak tree at the cemetery. I'd never seen juvenile peacocks before, young males with bright blue heads and necks, and just the beginnings of their magnificent fans trailing behind them. And peacocks battling one another is something to see. Fans waving, angry squawks, feet flying. There's so much I learned about peafowl from quietly watching them. They're fascinating, gorgeous creatures.

How did the peacocks end up in the cemetery? They arrived sometime in the late 1930's, thanks to a farmer who lived on the Clearwater/Dunedin border. In the 1920's, peacock feathers were all the rage in the fashion world. But, when the market bottomed out in the 1930's, this local farmer let his peacocks loose, and they settled in Dunedin Cemetery. They've been a constant in Dunedin, an attraction, and generations of Dunedin's residents have grown up visiting them.

In this modern world, though, there are fewer and fewer places for the wild to roam. In 2008, some residents in the neighborhood closest to the cemetery started seriously petitioning the City to relocate the peafowl. Residents complained the peacocks landed on their pool screens, pooped in their yards, pecked at their at cars, and cried all hours of the night. It seems to me, that's something those residents should have realized before choosing to live there. Sure, peafowl behavior can be annoying at times, but isn't that true of most of us? And aren't we taught to live and let live? It's unfair, I think, when people aren't willing to compromise, to share space, and win out over animals.

To give the City of Dunedin credit, our peafowl weren't destroyed. Initially, some of the birds were thinned out. Finally, the remaining ostentation (isn't that the perfect term for a group of peafowl?) was relocated, and, I'm assuming, is happily doing its thing somewhere undisturbed. But, I feel Dunedin has lost a little bit of its charm. I live a short distance away from the Dunedin Cemetery, and, on nights I had my patio door open, I could hear the peacocks' cat-like cry. I miss them.