Assigning human characteristics to wild life

Is easy to do . . . when they are so cute.

Camping with the family at Gamble Rogers Memorial recreation area just south of Flagler Beach.  I got up early as always to take pictures .

 I had a nice time with  a group of very animated Snowy Egrets who were snatching fish from the falling tide. 

Even though I knew their actions were aimed at getting food (or possibly mating)  I swear they were cavorting.

 I can almost see the thought bubble above their heads.

I was fully entertained and amused

Trying not to put words in their mouths,  but having my imagination get the best of me.

I followed them for what seemed like a long time as the sun rose in a beautiful morning sky.

 Hey!  that's my fish -  I saw it first!

these two are close friends -  maybe family.

 this one is being sneaky -  probably hoping another doesn't try to steal the precious catch.

Really its all about the catch  the rest is just my humaness spilling over. Attaching human emotions to wildlife is not a bad thing but not reality either.  Through the process we might learn somthing if we can reflect a little .

This is my fish, so get outta here!

The Humble Manatee

The Manatee inspires from a different place than other facets in nature.

It is to me that the Manatee is a big, humble and loveable underdog

Slow, quiet and unassuming - they are defenseless in a fast paced world. 

Many of the lumbering sea cows are scarred as a result.

Yet they put up with us humans as we invade their space and endure us the best they can.

Case in point -  I took the picture below seconds before the giant swoosh of a huge and powerful tail flipped my kayak.   Yes,  I was standing in the boat as this manatee passed under me while also coming up for air.  When I saw it approaching, I'm ebarrased to say - I was frozen. 

The unexpected swim killed my camera . . . Doh!

So now I try to tell the story as often as I can to get my money's worth.

Still, they go about their lives in the midst of a complexity they were not designed to fathom. 

I see them as though they are a modern day Job.  They are hassled, hit and sliced from every direction.  They must feel terror as they hear the boat motor getting louder and louder - closer and closer, knowing the danger but unable to move fast enough to avoid it. 

 Yet, they are not repelled by our presence. 

 With all we do that upsets their world, They remain filled with curiosity and affection.

On my last birthday several friends and I had an manatee encounter to cherish.

This lone manatee, scarred as it was, repeatedly approached us - getting very close. 

So I kissed it!  Why not?  You had to be there.  I was obviously feelin' the love.
(photos of me and manatee by John Moran)

Manatees inspire us in such a different way. What an magical experience,  . .

 . . .  when you love nature so much and it reaches out and actually loves you back.

The Manatee Abides

(No Manatees were harassed  in the making)

The swallow-tailed kite

As I started this blog I wrote that I will often wonder what it will become (1st entry).   Thus making an honest admission that I didn't know what I was doing.  I didn't have any expectations or a plan, but I did have something to say.  I was curious to see how I would express it. 

For now, my blog has become an commentary on the features within the natural world that I feel have a certain magic.  As with most, if not all, nature writers I hope my contributions inspire a greater reverence toward a deeper stewardship of this beautiful world.

That being said,  the swallow-tailed kite provides the magic of which I speak  in an undeniable fashion.  

I take pictures of the kites everytime I see them in the sky;  Lots of pictures - good ones, bad ones, better ones.  One day while driving I saw a group of about 10 kites working a field together.   Almost startled by them, I quickly pulled a u-turn coming back to an aerial ballet.  Here are some of the images from that 30 minute spellbinding experience. 

They were after a swarm of bugs or something in the grass; swooping about and diving toward the ground.

For me, at this point , spellbound is not an exageration.  The ease at which the kites carve a path through the sky is an amazing ability.  Just a tiny, almost impercebtible, tilt of their adept tail sends them on a significant course alteration - as if by a natural and very real magic.  (where is the video BDay??)

  Amazing, they are -  truly, truly the otters of the sky.

To torque that tail and jet after your quarry -  swoosh!   These maurauders snatch their food on the fly.  Biologists use the term "gleaners" to categorize their feeding habit.  After the snatch  they eat on the fly too.   

The swallow tailed kite -  a truly inspring creature.  Remaining suspended in flight for long periods with no perceptible movement.  Radically changing trajectory as if by commanding the wind to adjust.  So adept, so quiet, so agile within the stillness of their effortless grace.  A person need only stare at them in flight for a few moments be fixated on their grace.  Making self-evident that the affairs of humans are not the sole, central theme of our time here on earth.   Rick Scott can you hear me ?! 

 
   

The crookedwood tree

One of my favorite trees is the crookedwood, Lyonia Ferruginea,  Rusty Lyonia, also sometimes known as stagger bush.  I had to do some research to discover the proper name.  ( I had always wrongly called it devilwood).  My friend Bruce had tried to (helpfully) correct me so I looked it up.

The tree -  is in a word beautifully graceful.  It curves and flows in the most amazing shapes that can only be found in the random rhythms of the natural world.  Images of the tree often confuse the eye.

Crookedwood is at home in the scrub. I took all of the pictures here in the Ocala National Forest which is near my home in Ocala, (FL).  

The literature indicates that the crookedwood tree reaches 10 to 20 feet so this is a full grown tree.

It is the growing habit of this ballet dancer of the forest that fascinates me.  Graceful.  Crookedwood tree trunks are a valued forest product in the fake plant industry.  Trunks are harvested at 4 to 6 feet long then wired up with plastic leaves.   The trunks can't be massed produced so crookedwood cutting has become a resource extraction industry.    Selective cutting probably has minimal ecosystem damage

What forces of nature guide the pattern or the path?  Random?  Functional design?  Who knows?  Again I wonder if it's a little strange that I have a fixation with the lowly lyonia.  If you took a hike with me I am pretty sure I could make you understand.

hummingbirds

I was paddling one beautiful afternoon along the Silver River taking pictures of those cypress knees and I got sidetracked at a special place.  I landed my kayak by a  cypress stand with a field of Cardinal flower  lobelia cardinalis.

Knowing that cardinal flower is a favorite source of nectar for hummingbirds I decided to sit still for awhile.

 

It wasn't long, or maybe it was (I lost track of time)  before I was rewarded with a visit from the little magical birds.  There were several buzzing each other and flitting about from flower to flower in a ballet all their own. 

The flowers were sparkling like swamp jewels in the sunlight.

Time had been suspended and I sat for what seemed like a long time as the cypress swamp was pulsing with life.  Just like the otters,  hummingbirds know they are cool and can back it up.

the dragon tree

My fascination with trees is known by many but not always understood.  But how can anyone not be impressed by the dragon tree.

Unbelievable -  great tree.

the dragon tree -  not to be trifled with.

my friend 

The Volusia Oak

There is an old oak tree standing as a silent sentinal on the banks of the St Johns River at the Astor Bridge (SR 40).   I have been driving past this tree for many years and always give it a nod as I pass.  

I don't know exactly how old it is but three hundred  years is not a stretch.  The tree commands respect on its own right.

In 1562 a French Huguenot colony was established at the present site of Astor on the St. Johns River. The entire colony was wiped out by the Spanish is 1566 and a mission was established. While Exploring the St. John's River in early 1596, Don Pedro  Menendez made the following notes into his diary: "We found the third village of the savages on the West bank, halfway between a very big lake and a smaller one farther up stream on a likable spot in the shade of formidable trees.  John Bartram and his son William spent time here in 1765. William Bartram came back in 1774. In his subsequent book "TRAVELS", William Bartram devoted 72 pages to describing the area in vivid and colorful detail, such as "this blessed land where the gods have amassed into one heap all the flowering plants, birds, fish and other wildlife of two continents in order to turn the rushing streams, the silent lake shores and the awe-abiding woodlands of this mysterious land into a true garden of eden." Moses Levy established a plantation and colony for persecuted European Jews here. but it was burned down in 1838 during the 2nd Seminole War.

Soldiers of the second seminole war always camped under the oak.  This was actually the historic location of Fort Barnwell, Fort Columbia and Fort Call. ( across the river was Fort Butler)  .

You can see the St Johns River bridge in the background.  This place is a historic river crossing since the big slow Welaka River (river of lakes) is not wide here. It didn't become the St Johns until the British occupation. 

This is a big tree .  It's shelter is very inviting.

Over the many years the Volusia Oak has graced us with abundant shade and oxygen. As we know Oxygen and shade are two of the best of all things.

Stand tall big tree.  You are one of my favorites and deserve the respect of all from the past and in the future.  Ahhh . . . The stories you could tell.