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

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.

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.

Nature's Palette

I enjoy watching birds, and looking for birds, but, although I own several bird guides, I don't consider myself a hardcore birder. In fact, sometimes I take the easy way out, and visit Pinellasbirds.com to see what the real birders are finding. It's a great local website, with daily postings of who saw what where, complete with photographs. More than once I've chosen a park based on what's been posted.

Although I've been to Kapok Park in Clearwater on several occassions, this particular trip was specifically to find, in person, a Glossy Ibis I'd seen on Pinellasbirds.com. Kapok is a beautiful little city park. In the past, I've seen an owl and owlet, Eastern Cottontail rabbit, different butterflies, ducks, Coots, Moorhens, White Egrets, Great Blue Herons, Limpkins - basically, a who's who of Florida wildlife. But would I luck out and see the Glossy Ibis?


Of course, I wanted it to appear immediately, and, of course, it didn't. However, I'm not one to give up easily, and decided to focus on a Wood Stork, who was feeding near the boardwalk. I've never really observed one at work, and it was fun seeing it scooch around in the water, stirring up whatever it is Wood Storks eat. After awhile, the Wood Stork finished, and flew across the water to a small island. I followed it through my camera lens, and a few feet from where the Wood Stork landed, I noticed shiny emerald green in the grass. I couldn't tell what it was at first, so watched it a few seconds. Finally, it moved - it was the Glossy Ibis! I sent a mental thanks to the Wood Stork, and waited for the Glossy Ibis to emerge.


And waited. And waited. And, at long last, a beautiful, bejeweled-looking bird stepped into the water, and I was fully able to appreciate it. Pictures don't do this bird justice. Even seeing one in the flesh doesn't do it justice, until the sun shines directly on its feathers, making them shimmer. I was mesmerized, and took shot after shot as it moved through the water. It waded into a green algae patch in front of where I stood on the boardwalk, allowing me even closer views. I felt like the luckiest person on earth.


As if seeing the Glossy weren't special enough, I was amazed - enough to say "WOW!" out loud, even though I was alone - when first one, then another Roseatte Spoonbill flew into my frame. Their bright pink feathers are unmistakable, and reflected in the water. I was even able to zoom in close enough to see their red eyes. The Spoonbills splashed around, chased each other, preened, and eventually flew away. Between the Spoonbills and my first Glossy Ibis sighting, it was almost more than I could handle.


Feeling the day had reached its peak, I decided it was time to go. My camera dead camera battery agreed. I wasn't in the least bit disappointed, though, because I'd come hoping to see a Glossy, and had seen it. The two Spoonbills were icing on the cake. Magical moments far exceeded my expectations, and I left Kapok with a smile on my face, knowing nothing compares to the colors of nature's palette.

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.