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.

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Boyd Hill Nature Preserve

Boyd Hill Nature Preserve is a jewel. Located on the south shores of Lake Maggiore, Boyd Hill is another St. Petersburg park hidden in a residential area. There are 245 acres of unspoiled Florida, and entering this oasis feels as though you've stepped back in time, before Pinellas County's population explosion. In much need of time away from that population, and craving the type of regeneration only nature can provide, Anna and I set off to see what what we could see.

Boyd Hill has 5 unique ecosystems (hardwood hammock, sand pine scrub, pine flatwoods, willow marsh, and lake shore), but we've never covered them all at once. My tendency is to drift towards the shoreline, and, since we'd covered some of the pine flatwood trail on previous visits, we decided to walk towards Lake Maggiore.

Along the way, we crossed some short bridges, and came across lots of cypress knees looking like primeval fingers reaching up from the earth. Crossing one of the bridges we spied a little gator snoozing on a lily pad. They sure are a lot less intimidating when they look small and the lily pad looks big!

Back on the trail, we heard a hawk in the pines. We followed its calls, and saw it swoop to the ground. Next we heard what sounded like a squirrel in distress, and I have to admit I was relieved that squirrel hadn't become the hawk's lunch. I know how the food chain operates, but I don't really want to witness it.

There's a small peninsula jutting into Lake Maggiore, and we'd read that's where birds hang out, so we headed up the trail to find it. Just over another short bridge, it's a bird oasis. Anhingas and Cormorants filled nearby trees, ducks splashed in the lake, terns flew overhead. A family of (presumed) tourists approached us, asking if we'd seen the alligator just behind some brush, then proceeded to get way too close to it in order to show us. Anna waked off with a "Oh, hell no!" but I wanted some shots, although with my zoom, I felt safe. Well, fairly safe....

It wasn't until we'd crossed back from the peninsula to the main trail that it occurred to us: what would we have done if that alligator decided to come out from the brush? Especially if it had blocked access to the bridge. Hmmm.

Our return trip to the nature center was fairly uneventful, although there was one highlight: a banana tree blossom, deep purple and sexy. I love how in Florida there's always the possibility of running into something unexpected and exotic.

We had a great day at Boyd Hill, and, once again, the universe confirmed we're on the right path. How do I know? As we walked across the parking lot, talking about the wonderful things we'd seen, a bald eagle flew by.

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.

Birds and Gators at Gatorland

If you've never been to Gatorland in Orlando, FL, put it on your must-see list. It has an old Florida roadside attraction quality to it (afterall, it opened in 1949), but it's a special place if you love Florida birds and the North American alligator.

My favorite part of Gatorland is their rookery, which has become part of the Great Florida Birding Trail. It surrounds a marsh filled with over 100 alligators, who serve as natural protectors by eating snakes, raccoons, and other predators hunting birds and their eggs. Of course, alligators also feed on birds and their eggs, so it's kind of a twist that the very creatures who save birds also savor them. But Mother Nature ensures everything works out for the best.

It's nesting season right now, and birds are busy building homes and laying eggs. Cattle egrets zip past, the workers of the marsh. Wood Storks glide overhead, also on the move for nesting materials. In quiet moments, you can hear the crack of branches as Double Crested Cormorants choose just the right one. White egrets float like angels. Anhingas fly quickly, but awkwardly, like they're being chased, or have too much to do, but not enough time. Blue Herons bully everyone who lands in the marsh.

Some chicks have arrived, too, looking like mini-Einsteins with stick-up hair that hasn't yet grown out into feathers. Baby Tricolored herons view their world with wide-eyed expressions, and don't have the sense to be frightened of people. You can hear the sounds of white egret chicks long before you see them. It's as though they're revving motors, their bodies swaying in time. There are Wood Stork chicks of all ages. The "toddlers" look like they're wearing hoodies, with white fluff up to their foreheads. Teen Wood Storks retain some fluff, but you can see the outlines of what will become adult bald heads. Cormorant chicks have black eyes and yellow bills, unlike the adults' aqua-colored eyes and orange bills, and I think they should win the award for Bird Most Annoying To Its Parent. While I saw many chicks demanding food that day, the Cormorants were by far the most aggressive, pecking their mother's head, and forcing her mouth open with their beaks. Not even her slit-eyed expression deterred them.

As for the alligators, they're late in the baby department this year, because of the long winter. They're finally in the midst of their mating ritual now, though, and it's something to behold. When you're in a marsh filled with alligators, and you think you hear trucks rumbling by, you're wrong. It's the sound of an alligator bellowing. This involves the gator lifting its body out of the water, puffing itself up, and letting out ... a bellow. There's no other way to describe it. One alligator set off a chain reaction, with other alligators bellowing, some on their own, and others in groups. Then, as quickly as it started, the noise stopped, and there wasn't another display for the rest of the day. That moment alone was worth the 2 hour drive and entrance fee.

My trips to Gatorland have all been different. The same birds and alligators may be there, but each and every one has the potential to be magical, and none has ever disappointed.