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.

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anclote Key State Park

Fishing boats along the Sponge Docks

Sometimes it's fun to play tourist in your own backyard, and having out-of-town guests is always a great excuse to do touristy things you probably wouldn't do on your own.  One advantage of living in Florida, is there's an abundance of activities aimed at toursits, which means it's always time to play.  Another advantage is someone is almost always expecting out-of-town guests, in this instance Anna and her sister, Nellie, so The Way Eye See It was off on local adventure.

Tarpon Springs is an small town in our area known for, among other things, its Greek heritage.  There are several Greek restaurants and shops selling touristy stuff, as well as Greek souvenirs and food on Dodocanese Blvd, the main drag along Tarpon's historic sponge docks.  It's definitely like stepping into an Agean-blue slice of Greece: Greek language, Greek food, Greek music floating out shop doors, and, if the sponge boats have unloaded their hauls for the day, the salty ocean smell of sponges.

For as long as I can remember, there's been a guy on the docks shouting out departure times for Sponge-o-Rama's Dolphin Cruise, which I always thought was prettyy cheesy, until Anna and Nellie mentioned the trip now includes a stop at Anclote Key State Park, home of Anclote Lighthouse.  That turned the tour into something much more interesting, because, unless you have a boat, one of these tours is the only way to get out to Anclote Key (and the 3 other keys in Anclote Key State Park).

If you're going to take a Dolphin cruise, I highly recommend lunch at one of the Greek restaurants along the sponge docks.  We enoyed greek salads and saganaki (opa!) at Mykonos, which I think has better food than Hellas, one of the more well known restaurants.  If the seas look rough, though, I recommend lunch after the cruise!

Anclote Key Lighthouse is three miles off the coast of Tarpon Springs, and before hitting the Gulf of Mexico, you pass various sights along the Anclote River, like the house used in the 1953 movie "Beneath the 12 Mile Reef," starring a young Robert Wagner.  As for me, I was more interested in the wildlife action, and there was a lot. In the Gulf we saw dolphins, all kinds of sea birds, and, amazingly, an osprey chasing  an eagle across the water for its fish.  I had my money on the eagle to win, but, wow, that osprey stole the eagle's fish! 

The approach to the lighthouse, watching it get bigger and bigger, is really cool.  It's not your traditional looking lighthouse, but a metal, rust-colored skeleton shape. Currently opperated by the state of Florida, and on the National Historic Register, Anclote Lighthouse was built in 1887, deactivated in 1985, and relit September 13, 2003. 



Anclote Key Lighthouse



If you're into shelling, Anclote Key is the place to be.  Before we got off the  boat, the captain passed around little bags for shell collecting, and it didn't take long for the shellers to fill them up.  It was tempting to stop and look at all the pretty shells in the sand, but Anna and I decided try and get closer to the lighthouse. We'd also heard Anclote was great for birding, although, since we were docked for only 30 minutes, time was at a premium.  We hoofed it across the sand, but soon realized we'd never make it to the lighthouse, so stopped and soaked it up from afar.  Meanwhile, little semi-palmated plovers and willets cruised by, moving in and out of slight strips of water. At least we saw 2 of the 43 species of birds who live there.

Thirty minutes flew way too quickly, and it was time to head back to Tarpon.  Nothing as spectacular as eagle vs osprey happened on the return trip, but we saw more dolphins, and even passed an outbound sponge boat, another tourist trip, complete with sponge diver in authentic sponge diving suit, and a sponge diving demonstration.  I always thought that had the potential to be cheesy, too, but now.... Well, I'm ready to play tourist in Tarpon Springs again.  Does anyone have any guests on their way?

Sponge Diver

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