Ocala National Forest

Sometimes getaways are mapped out and planned.  Sometimes not so much.  That was the case with The Way Eye See It's adventure to the Ocala National Forest, which began with the usual "where should we go?" conversation the night before.  We named a few local spots, but didn't feel inspired by them.  Then Anna suggested Ocala National Forest, and we both knew that's where we had to go.  We'd both been feeling the need to escape, and not just to any old local place. Sometimes the urge to get away means traveling further than you own back yard.

Established in 1908, the Ocala National Forest is, at approximately 383,000 acres, Florida's second largest forest, after Apalachicola National Forest near Tallahassee.  Because it's so huge, we knew we'd see only a scrap of what it has to offer.  With that in mind, we decided to drive along the Florida Black Bear Scenic Highway, a National Scenic Highway, passing through the heart of the forest.  We did attempt to get a map at the rangers' station, but it was closed, so we let Mother Nature guide us. 

There are four natural springs in the forest, and we followed signs to Juniper Springs, which is a campground and recreation area.  There's also a pretty cool mill with functioning waterwheel, which was constructed by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930's.  

CCC-built Mill

It's a beautiful area, lush and green and filled with butterflies: Zebra Longwings, Easter Giant Swallowtails, and Giant Swallowtails.  

Eastern Tiger Swallowtail

We walked the 3/4 mile nature trail past the mill and into the forest, and looked out over the spring, with its  bubbles and boils (like Yellowstone).  We heard lots of birds in the pines and oaks, and really hoped to see a Florida Scrub Jay, but everyone remained out of sight. The only visible wildlife was a decent-sized gator snoozing half-submerged in the water.  In that part of the spring, there are patches so white, they're icy-looking.

         

icy-looking patches

From Juniper, we headed east, and came across The Yearling Trail, which was exciting. We're both Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings fans, so we couldn't resist walking at least a little bit of the trail.  It's where "The Yearling" was filmed, and, I read later, there are historic structures along the way.  This trail also intersects with the Florida Trail, a state-wide trail system Anna and I often talk about walking.  We passed a pile of scat as we walked, and I asked Anna if she knew what it was.  The Ocala National Forest has the highest concentration of Florida Black Bears in the state, and we knew it wasn't bear scat.  But, when Anna replied, "Well, hell, I don't know!" it confirmed we need to be more prepared for real hiking!



Yearling Trail

Back on the highway, we drove until we came across Silver Glen recreation area, where a dozen turkeys were cruising around.  We then turned onto the dirt trail to Shanty Pond, and what a gorgeous drive. Blooming golden rod lined the path, and gulf fritillaries fed on the flowers.  We kept ears and eyes tuned to scrub jays, but still no luck, and no black bears, either.  Since we weren't sure how long this trail was, and hadn't reached Shanty Pond after a few miles, we decided to turn around and head back the to the highway.  It was gettting late anyway, and time to go home.

Gulf Fritillary

Driving and walking through the forest was even more restorative than either of us had expected, and what a great day it turned out to be. Our spontaneity definitely paid off.  Even traveling mapless paid off.  Sometimes not all who wander are lost.

I-75 Sunset

"Look deep into nature and you will find the answer to everything."   Albert Einstein

                               



Bok Tower

Who knows what would have become of the lovely rolling hill overlooking Lake Wales, FL, if it weren't for Edward Bok.  Like so many other natural spots in our state, it probably would've become a hilltop of condos.  As luck would have it, though, Dutch immigrant and Philadelphia resident, Edward Bok, spent the winter of 1921 in Florida, and fell in love with the landscape - specifically, with that rolling hill overlooking Lake Wales.  Bok had a vision for saving that land, a peaceful sanctuary for both humans and birds, and Bok Tower Gardens was born. 

I love geniuses who come up with simple ideas.  Even more, I love geniuses who follow through, especially when they're nature-minded, like Edward Bok.  I grew up hearing hearing about the tower and gardens, and they'd been on my "must see" list for years.  So I was excited The Way Eye See It was spending the 4th of July with plants, flowers, and birds.  And, of course, the famous Singing Tower.



Singing Tower



Bok's Singing Tower was the first carillon built in Florida, and contains, I read recently, the Andrew Brees Carillon Library, the largest library of its kind in the world.  Who knew?  Tower construction began in 1927, and was dedicated in 1929 as a gift from Edward Bok.  It's an impressive structure: 205 feet of Georgia marble and Florida coquina, colored pink, fitting for Florida.  The carillion consists of 60 bells, ranging in size from 16 pounds to a whopping 12 tons.  Art Deco in style, it's decorated with lots of birds and plants, and, on one side, there's a cool snake sundial, each hour represented by a zodiac sign.  Coincidentally, we saw a snake slither out from the bushes on the sundial side of the tower.  It went zooming after a skink, which managed to get away.

From the reflecting pool, you get an amazing view of the Tower, even though we didn't see swans floating around, like on postcards in the gift shop.  However, we did see huge, freaky lily pads, which I thought at first were trays, or a display of some kind.  After staring at them closely, I noticed veins, and one lily in the center of the pool was in bloom, but it still took me awhile to believe they were real.  They have a name (which should include the word "freaky"): Victorian Water Lily.  They can grow up to 5 feet in diameter!



Victorian Water Lily

As impressive as the Singing Tower is, is wouldn't have nearly the impact were it not surrounded by the Frederick Law Olmstead, Jr, designed gardens.  There are almost 50 acres of gardens, with a gorgeous variety of plants and flowers, ranging from prehistoric-looking silver queens to major wow-factor firecracker roses bursting with color.  I'm fairly flower-ignorant, but it doesn't take an expert to appreciate the beauty.  Besides, at the entrance to the gardens, Bok staff set up a table with cuttings of what's currently in bloom.



Firecracker Rose

Because it was July 4, there was a patiotic concert on the carillon, and what could be better than listening to "This Land is Your Land" while strolling through gardens?



Hollyhocks

Pinewood Estate, on the National Register of Historic Places, is also on Bok Tower Gardens property, and we got a glimpse of it from the parking lot.  Because we arrived late, and got absorbed in the gardens and tower, we didn't have time to tour it, but I'd definitely like to check it out next time.  Still, the Singing Tower and gardens will always be the main draw for me.  I guess I don't need to ask for whom the bell tolls....

Edward Bok died in 1930, and is buried at the base of the Singing Tower.  By the end of his life, he was a Pulitzer Prize winner and world peace advocate, but he never really left his beloved gardens on the lovely rolling hill overlooking Lake Wales, Florida.




Bok's vision for a better world



Owl Magic



"May the Force be with you."

Whenever I head into nature, I go without expectations, because it's a lot more fun to see what gifts await.  Some of these gifts come in small packages, like hummingbirds, while others are larger, like reddish egrets.  On this day, though, the package was neither big nor small, but just the right size.

The Way Eye See It was taking a final turn around John Chestnut Sr. Park in Palm Harbor recently, looking for deer, but open for anything, when from somewhere overhead, a big bird swooped over the car and into a stand of pine trees.  We were so surprised, we didn't even think about identifying this bird, only figuring it had to be some kind of owl due to its shape and wingspan.

Even though we figured the owl would be long gone by the time we parked, we knew we couldn't just drive off without knowing for sure.  So, we parked, Anna grabbed her binoculars, I got my camera, and off we went in search of the owl - which ended up taking about two minutes, because the owl had landed in the pine tree closest to us.  It sat on a fairly low branch, and didn't seem at all in a hurry to move on.



looking like the proverbial wise old owl

Time is usually of the essence, though, when it comes to birds, and it was too good to be true this guy was hanging out.  I debated whether to go to the car for my 500mm zoom, and decided what the heck, since I'd already gotten a few shots with my smaller zoom.  If the owl flew away in the meantime, I was still happy we'd had the chance to see it.  I went to the car, changed cameras, changed lenses, mounted both on my tipod, and the owl was in the exact same spot when I returned.  It modeled for us - preened, stretched, squinted at us with its liquid-black eyes.  We were amazed it sat as long as it did, giving us the opportunity to really study it, since we'd never seen a Barred Owl in in the wild before.

I love their big ole round heads, and their huge black eyes are so expressive.  I didn't know until I read later that Barred Owls are the only eastern North American dark-eyed owls aside from Barn Owls.  Their expression is a serious one.  Henry David Thoreau wrote in his journal about Barred Owls, "Solemnity is what they express, - fit representatives of the night."  That definitely rings true, although this owl was out in the early evening.  Still, even in the early evening, there's a mysterious air about owls.


scoping out the landscape

Eventually, the owl took flight, and we thought that was the last we'd see of it. When it landed in another tree not too far away, we watched it some more.  And I took more pictures, while it sat and looked around, until I finally reached the point (which almost never happens), when I decided I'd taken enough pictures.  Nine times out of ten, birds never stay, and sometimes the only pictures I get are of their butts as they fly away.  Even funnier are the shots of one departing foot in the very corner of the frame. 

This Barred Owl, though, who sat and let us fall in love with it, was magic, big ole round-headed, black-eyed magic in a package that was just the right size.



"Yes?"

"No matter how slow the film, Spirit always stands still enough for the photographer It has chosen."

Minor White

St Marks Wildlife Refuge

It's not often The Way Eye See It makes multi-county hours-long road trips, but the promise of seeing new birds, particularly Redbird, was incentive enough for us to pack our bags, gas up the car, and hit the road. Our destination was Tallahassee, FL, and our first stop was the Miccosukee Land Co-op, where we planned on enjoying good food and great music.

It'd been a long time since I'd driven to Tallahassee, and there are many enticing Great Florida Birding Trail sites along US 19.  Even though a few Swallowtail Kites flew overhead as we traveled, tempting us from our path, we continued northward, making mental notes of all the places we want to stop someday.

Tallahassee is beautiful, very woodsy in places, and Miccosukee Rd, which lead us to the Co-op, is gorgeous.  It's one of Tallahassee's canopy roads, with massive oaks on both sides, branches reaching across to touch one another.  As for the Co-op, it's a 344 acre slice of paradise in the woods.  Founded in 1973, it's an intentional community comprised of residents, who share a community house, a community life, and basically chill with nature.

The music festival had already begun by the time we pulled in, but we were still early enough to visit with family and watch Redbird set up.  Redbird is my brother's folk group, four talented musicians, who like to party and play, and who sing a variety of music from Stephen Foster, to Irish ballads that tear your heart out.  This was our first time seeing Redbird live and in concert, and they were great. 

Redbird

We stayed until the last band's last note, then piled back in the car and headed into urban Tallahassee and our beds for the night.  Our grand plan was to wake up early the next morning, and make our way to St. Marks Wildlife Refuge.  But plans, as they say, are made to be broken.  My sister-in-law's blueberry pancakes called, and we decided to stay, eat breakfast, and enjoy family.  A few birds came to us, though, as we finally packed the car: Carolina Chickadees and a Tufted Titmouse or two!

Established in 1931 for wintering migratory birds, St Marks is huge, with a diversity of habitats, including salt marshes, swamps, and long leaf pine forests.  It'd been several years since my last trip there, and all I remembered was the lighthouse, and how, along the road to the lighthouse, certain areas of sawgrass reminded me of pictures I've seen of the African plains.  No lions for us, though.  The only kings of beasts we saw were little alligators cruising in the water.  They can be scary enough!

St Marks Lighthouse is impressive.  It's been guarding that parcel of the Panhandle's coastline since 1832, and is still an active lighthouse.  I can only imagine what it was like to be a lighthouse keeper back in the day.  I like to think I would have been able to handle the solitude, the wildlife, the muggy FL summers with threats of hurricanes, and the cold Panhandle winters.  I'd like to think the sound of waves continually crashing against the shore, combined with the indescrible beauty of the sun rising and setting, would have made it all worthwhile.  I can't believe it wouldn't.


lighthouse view from the rear

There are many angles from which to view the lighthouse, and it doesn't have a bad side.  This one through the oaks, though, is one of my favorites.







view of lighthouse through live oaks

 

And, because, as the caption says, I love open windows ...  Who viewed the landscape and Gulf of Mexico through them?  From the time St Marks Lighthouse was built until now, I don't think the view has changed all that much.  Even so, with 43 acres of Florida coastline in sight, how could you ever be bored?





because I love open windows

Since we had a long drive ahead, we didn't spend as much time at St Marks as we wanted.  But, whenever I travel, I always like to leave something for the return visit.  The Way Eye See It explored the lighthouse and the beach around it, stopped along the road to look for birds, alligators, and anything else roaming, flying, slithering, or swimming.  What we haven't done, though, is visit St Marks during November's Monarch butterfly migration.  See, there's always something to look forward to.  And, if we're lucky, maybe Redbird will be playing again.

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sand Key Park

tern chick

      

"Cute! Cute! Cute!"  That's what I wrote in my journal the evening after visiting Black Skimmers, Royal Terns and their chicks at Sand Key Park in Clearwater.  Since I rarely go to the beach, I had no idea these guys were laying eggs, until I read about them on PinellasBirds.com. Their location wasn't revealed, but, after a little detective work, I figured out where to find them. I'd never been to Sand Key before (that I remembered), and hadn't been through Clearwater Beach in years. The Way I See It was on a new adventure, and crossing off yet another park on the Great Florida Birding Trail.

Sand Key Park is an oasis compared to Clearwater Beach, which is extremely touristy and built-up, a far cry from back in the day when I was a kid, and there wasn't much more than mom & pop hotels, miles of sand, and the Gulf of Mexico.

A barrier island, Sand Key is 95 beautiful acres, separated from Clearwater Beach by Clearwater Pass.  It was opened to the public in 1984, and visitors can enjoy both the beach and park, where there's a salt marsh.  I definitely recommend a trip to this park, but don't necessarily recommend going on a summer's afternoon, even early afternoon. It was hot!

Even the birds looked hot, at least the snowy egret we saw in the parking lot did.  At first, I thought it was a white plastic bag in the water, until I got closer, and could see it was a snowy submerged to its neck. Out on the beach, some of the Black Skimmers were crashed, bellies flat on the sand, looking dead, which scared me at first.  I image the cool sand felt good to them. 

Terns of varying sizes were everywhere, flying, catching fish, trying to steal each others' fish.  We watched them for a long time, before moving further down the beach, where we could see a large roped-off square, which was the Skimmers' nesting area.  



royal terns having a fish fight



I'd never seen either Tern or Skimmer chicks before, and I could watch them forever.  The tern chicks were in the fledged stage, not in the least bit fluffy, and looking like small adults.  Some of the Black Skimmer chicks,  though, were downy things, sand-speckled fluff camouflaged in the sand.  Quite a few were still hanging out with their parents, but one little Skimmer bravely ran across the sand with its wings spread.  It was too small to fly, but old enough to start practicing.  Just about the sweetest moment for me was an adult and two chicks lined up, all with their beaks open.  I don't know what they were talking about, but it made us laugh all the same.



skimmer shout out

I guess some Skimmers don't read very well, because there were a few who'd built their nests outside the roped-off area.  Beach-goers were respectful of the Skimmers' space, many stopping to look, and the skimmers were cautious, but not so scared they weren't acting normally.  It was a hub of activity inside the nesting area, with adults and chicks moving around, little chicks exploring, or burrowing under a parent.  I love nesting season, watching how parents and chicks interact, and imagining what they're saying when they call to each other, or what they're thinking as they move across their world. In this instance, I imagine they were talking about how hot it was, and what a good idea it would be to find some shade.  After a few hours of birdwatching, I felt the same, but look forward to another summer of babies!  And another trip to Sand Key Park, which, by the way, is a nesting area for sea turtles.  But that's another story.





black skimmer with chick





Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary

swamp hibiscus

I can't say I've had many psychic dreams before, but something about the ghost orchid seeped into me and wouldn't let go.  This summer I had the most vivid dream about a ghost orchid, that I had gone hunting for them in Orlando. Funny thing is, in my awake world, I wasn't even sure ghost orchids existed. The  morning after my dream, I had no recollection of flowers, until a patron at the library where I work checked out the audiobook version of Susan Orlean's The Orchid Thief.  Then someone checked out a few orchid magazines, and another patron requested a book with "orchid" in the title.  There's nothing like being hit in the head with synchronicity!  So, I hopped online and googled ghost orchids, and, amazingly, discovered a ghost orchid lives just 3 hours away from here in Naples at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary.  Even more incredible, the ghost orchid was in bloom. It was calling me, and I had to visit and ask what it wanted.

"super ghost"

Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary is considered the "jewel in the Audubon crown."  The Audubon Society became involved with the sanctuary over 100 years ago with a campaign against plume hunting, and officially founded Corkscrew in 1954.  It's 14,000 acres of pine flatwood, wet prairie, marsh, pond cypress, and home to the largest remaining virgin bald cypress forest in North America.  One of the gateways to the Great Florida Birding Trail, Corkscrew supports one of this country's largest colonies of nesting wood storks, as well as +200 birds, both natives and migratory. Add a gorgeous butterfly garden and the Blair Education Center and the ghost orchid, and you know you're in for quite the experience.

Naples is about a 3 hour drive from where I live, so The Way Eye See It loaded up pretty early in the morning, in order to have most of the day to explore.  Even the parking lot at CCS is interesting! There's a huge butterfly garden, where Anna and I saw white peacocks, gulf fritillaries, and Florida's state butterfly, the zebra longwing.  Also cool was seeing a tiny Ruby-throated Hummingbird zoom down to drink from the flowers.  It was hard to tear ourselves away from butterfly garden action, but we knew we had a lot to pack into the day, so we followed the boardwalk to the Blair Education Center and paid our $10 entrance fee.  Right inside the front door was a poster describing the ghost orchid, with an attached dry erase board on which was written, "12 blooms!!" 

There's another dry erase board before you hit the main boardwalk, and we stopped to read what everyone had seen thus far: many birds, black bear, snakes, butterflies, skinks.  I love the anticipation of what lies ahead on nature walks. Of course, we wanted to see everything listed on that board, and knew we wouldn't. But maybe we'd see different things?

The first bird to greet us was a white-eyed vireo, a new bird for me.  We could hear woodpeckers all around, and saw a fair share of red-bellieds, as well as a pileated, which we heard first, then waited and waited to see.

white-eyed vireo

Whenever I'm walking through swamps, woods, and other natural areas in Florida, I always wonder what it  must've been like for explorers crazy enough to hack their way through tall grass and wetlands, with no idea of what they'd encounter.  Huge bugs, alligators, snakes....  I, for one, am happy in most instances to stay on boardwalks!

Corkscrew's boardwalk is 2.25 miles long, and you're definitely at one with the landscape.  As we made our way to the ghost orchid, we passed alligator flags, pond apple trees, swamp hibiscus, swamp lilies, a tiny ribbon snake, and who knows what else hidden above and below us. Butterflies whizzed past, and we were thrilled to see two new ones: a queen and a ruddy daggerwing (if ever I need an alias, it's going to be Ruddy Daggerwing!)  Even though I couldn't wait to see the ghost orchid, I didn't want to rush the experience.

queen

 

And finally we saw it, this "super ghost" with an unusually high number of blooms. This orchid, the only wild ghost orchid whose location is not kept secret.  Actually, we saw the scope an Audubon volunteer set up for better orchid viewing.  In my vision, I saw the orchid up close, but, in reality, it lives about 150 ft from the boardwalk, 45ft up a 400 year old cypress tree.  Also, in my vision, I was 1 on 1 with the orchid.  In reality, though, the scope was like Grand Central Station. Luckily, I had my big zoom, and Anna had her binoculars, so we were set with pretty good views as we waited our turns at the scope.  

WOW!  I was blown away when I saw the orchid up close.  It's very ethereal and tendril-y and mysterious and sexy, and I'm fairly certain it knows this. I asked why it called me to Corkscrew, dragging me out of bed at 5am to drive 3 hours away.  I wanted to hear something profound and life-changing, and I did. The ghost orchid said simply: "Stop. Be still. Enjoy me." 

The ghost orchid usually blooms in July and August, and I wonder if it will reappear in my dreams next summer.  Will I still need its gentle reminder?  I daresay I probably will.  And, even it doesn't come to me in my sleep, I'll definitely stalk Corkscrew's website until the announcement comes it's time to commune with the orchid once more.

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

Sawgrass Lake Park

For a city the size of St. Petersburg, FL, and for the number of people living in St. Petersburg, there's a great selection of natural places to roam. One of them is Sawgrass Lake Park, 400 acres of glorious open space hidden in a residential neighborhood. I'd heard it's a great park, but had yet to make it there. It was time for The Way Eye See it to load up our camera equipment and check it out.

Unfortunately, lots of other people had the same idea, which is part of tourist season in FL. Still, we peservered, because, from the moment we parked and looked around, we knew this place had promise. From the entrance, you can either go to the left, across a boardwalk and beyond, or to the right, following a sidewalk. I didn't have to decide, because I spotted a Red Admiral flitting around close to the water, and I have a particular weakness for butterflies, especially ones I've never seen. Several blurry pictures later, the Red Admiral flew out of my range, and we decided to hit the boardwalk.

One of the things I love most about Florida parks is you never know what's lurking in the water, around the corner, behind a tree .... People on the footbridge crossing to the boardwalk were pointing at something, so we had to stop and look, too. First was a huge turtle, feet stretched, eyes closed, looking very self-satisfied, sunning itself on a rock. Beautiful yellow water lily buds were everywhere. There was also a "teen" alligator nosing around in the plantlife. I love watching alligators, especially younger ones, because, even though they're small, there's still something ancient and mysterious and powerful about them.

After the bridge, there's a fork in the boardwalk, and we chose the side less traveled. Sawgrass Lake is home to one of the largest maple swamps on the FL Gulf Coast, and there's not much more peaceful than walking among trees. But, since we didn't know how far this path lead, and it was getting late in the afternoon, we decided to turn around and try out the other path. I'd hoped this one would follow the water, and was happy it did. For as peaceful as trees are, even better for my spirit is the tree/water combo.

One of the nice things about this boardwalk is there are several covered lookouts with benches, so you can get out of the sun and hang out over the water. At Sawgrass, though, be sure not to hang out so far you fall in! The water was full of teensy busy gators, motoring from one place to another, eating and doing whatever it is baby alligators do. We enjoyed watching them so much, we forgot even to consider mama might be around, until we spotted her on the bank. She was huge! It's funny to think those tiny gators will someday be her size, although for all their cuteness, they do have that gator badassness about them.



It was hard to leave those little gators, they were so entertaining, but we wanted to check out the observation tower before we left. Even though we weren't sure exactly where it was, we figured we were were going in the right direction from the noise everyone else was making. I'm not begrudging people a sunny spring day out, especially if they've come from Northern climes, and are spending their money in FL, but it's annoying to me, seeking not only some peace and quiet, but bird-watching opportunities.



Luckily, waterbirds seem less affected by noise than smaller birds, of which we saw few (only one, in fact, a catbird hopping along the boardwalk railing). A grumpy-looking green heron searched for food along the shore near the observation tower, and a female anhinga was letting her presence be known with loud honks. She then dove into the water, and, when she came up, was buoyed by her feathers, which was really cool, and something I've never seen before. Several turtles bobbed in the water, and, in the distance, a big alligator cruised by. It was definitely worthwhile braving the crowds.

Sawgrass is mentioned by both the Audubon Society and The Great Florida Birding Trail as one of Florida's premier birding sights, and I believe it. Although the birding wasn't amazing this time around, I can't wait for fall, so we can go back and see what feathered tourists have come to visit.

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.