Everglades National Park

A view of the national park.

Libby and I have visited a few of America's National Parks out here near the southwestern corner of the United States. Most of them offer dramatic scenery on a massive scale. The Grand Canyon is a mind bending crack in the earth. Yosemite has soaring granite landscapes. Carlsbad Caverns has unworldly cave formations. Everglades National Park's landscape can't really compare with these.

It's flat. That's it's thing. You drive 50 miles or something and your elevation changes about three feet. To someone whose grown up surrounded by something called "topography" that's pretty unremarkable. Still, despite its definite lack of splendor, it still manages to be interesting. And, it's like nothing we'd ever seen before.

The Everglades are a place everyone hears about, but I don't think the area is somewhere everyone really knows about. It turns out that the everglades are an enormous river system. Before Florida was developed, wetlands flowed from the southern end of Lake Okeechobee south to the Bay of Florida on the southwestern corner of the peninsula. That's about a hundred miles. Because this part of Florida is mostly a flat limestone sheet, the water flowed in a single sheet miles wide and inches deep at a very slow rate; it only descended an inch or two per mile.

Because the southern edge of Lake Okeechobee has been developed, Everglades National Park and adjacent reserves protect the remnants of this unique water system. The park service pumps water into the wetlands to augment the lack of lake water. Don't get me wrong, though. The remnants are extensive, and preserve pretty capably the aquatic system's character.

So the experience of the Everglades, at least from the Homestead entrance, is of primarily a few different ecosystems defined by very small elevation changes. There are extensive tropical pinewood hammocks near the northern edge on limestone shelves above the level of the water. Then there is wet sawgrass prairie in the water itself stretching way off into the horizon. Dotted here and there in the prairie are patches of tropical hardwood forest growing in accumulated debris and some dwarf Pond Cypress forest in solution holes. Finally, near the ocean you start running into extensive mangrove forest.

All of these were something we've never seen before, and we found exploring them to be the primary interest of the park. It's not naturally awe inspiring or spectacular like our western National Parks, but with some time and patience it yields the inherent interest it holds.

Our first goal for the morning was to look for Chuck-Will's-Widows in the pine hammocks area at the entrance. We got there half an hour before sunrise and got out of the car to catch the tail end of their nocturnal performance.

Our next goal for the morning was to find some Cape Sable Seaside Sparrows. These secretive birds live in the wet sawgrass of the Snake River Slough. They're accessible from the road near a place called Mahogany Hammock. We arrived in time to watch the sun rise. While it rose, Eastern Meadowlarks and Red-winged Blackbirds were singing in the rushes and sawgrass. No sparrows, though. In fact, we never heard them sing, but we did end up seeing a couple of them. A few birds perched up high enough in the rushes that we were able to get distant but identifiable scope views of this distinctive subspecies of Seaside Sparrow.

As a sad footnote, it's worth mentioning Florida once hosted two distinctive subspecies of Seaside Sparrows (distinctive enough to be sometimes considered full species). The Dusky Seaside Sparrow lived in the area of Cape Canaveral and Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, but went extinct due largely to salt marsh mosquito abatement efforts. The last known individual of this unique taxon died in captivity at Disney World in 1987.

Next we headed to Mahogany Hammock for a morning walk. This was the first large tropical hardwood hammock we'd visited in Florida. In the Everglades and Keys, the vast majority of the flora is of tropical origin - something like 80% of the plants are from areas south of the USA. Curiously, most of the fauna is temperate and comes from the rest of North America. It was interesting to walk around in these jungle like environments. Trees with exotic names like Poisonwood, Gumbo Limbo, Strangler Fig, and West Indian Mahogany were festooned with bromeliads, orchids and epiphytic ferns. Bird-wise, the place was less than hopping, though. We did get our life look at a roosting flock of White-crowned Pigeons, but mostly the place was full of Catbirds and I seem to remember a White-eyed Vireo and Black-and-White Warbler.

So, after this little exploratory stop, we backtracked north to the Anhinga Trail. The Anhinga Trail is closest to my vague impressions of what the Everglades would be. Visitors can walk along a boardwalk and view wading birds at close range. That was pretty cool. There were also alligators aplenty and turtles and fish. The marsh there hosts an interesting fresh water swamp tree called Pond Apples that reminded me of a fresh water version of a mangrove.

We were searching the area for a reported Smooth-billed Ani. It was seen before and after our visit, but we weren't able to find it while we were there. From the same parking lot we took a hike through the Gumbo Limbo Trail, which explores a hardwood hammock that's still recovering from Hurricane Andrew. We ate lunch here before fleeing an enormous school field trip.

Our escape route was south again, into the park, stopping at various overlooks and trails. There aren't a lot of bathrooms in the park, so we had to stop at West Lake and explore their mangrove trail. We learned about how mangrove forest diversity is tiered on distance from the water. And that there are multiple species of mangroves - like Black Mangroves (which we saw in Texas), Red Mangroves with long stilt-like roots, White Mangroves and Buttonwood. It was very educational.

Before leaving the parking lot we really smeared on some mosquito repellent. We rolled down our sleeves and buttoned up all of our buttons. Our next stop? The Snake Bight Trail - infamous as the worst spot for mosquitoes in the continental United States, but also famous as a pretty awesome birding location.

I really wanted to see what the fuss was all about, and Libby was willing, though not thrilled, to follow me. So we went! And there was not one single mosquito there! Instead, there were dozens of migratory songbirds. We saw Painted Buntings, singing Prairie Warblers, Northern Waterthrushes, Northern Parulas, Black-and-White Warblers, Black-throated Blue Warblers, American Redstarts, White-eyed Vireos, Blue-headed Vireos, and lots of beautiful butterflies called Zebra Longwings.

The butterflies were a lot easier to take pictures of than the birds were.

This was the only place in the park where we encountered songbird flocks that weren't almost all Gray Catbirds (though there were Gray Catbirds there, too). We also had more White-crowned Pigeons. Unfortunately, the cost of all these birds was stifling heat. There was no air movement in the gap of trees, and we were sweating hard. So, after an hour or so, we turned around and headed back.

As another little tangent - I had a close-up encounter with an Alligator here. After we realized there weren't any mosquitoes, we decided to keep walking further on the trail than we'd originally planned. So, I ran back to the car to get some fluids. When I got there, I opened up the passenger door to get our field guide from the car's passenger door pocket. As it swung out, something moved in the adjacent tall grass and I thought, "Hmm, bird." So I started scrutinizing the base of the log laying there for a waterthrush or something. Then it registered that the trunk was a leg. And that it was the hind leg of a large alligator. And that the front leg and adjacent large teeth were much closer. So I hopped back in panic. Which left the front door open. So I had to close it. Which meant going back.

Anyway, our next stop was Flamingo. That's an interesting little place at the southern tip of the park where you camp. They have a visitor's center, which was somewhat interesting. We had some ice cream and looked around for American Crocodiles. We saw one's tail sticking out of the mangroves (they are a different color than the more common alligators), but none were out in the open. There were lots of Osprey, a couple of Bald Eagles, lots of Brown Pelicans and wading birds, etc. We surveyed a flock of Willets on the limestone shelf that substitutes for a beach down there for a vagrant Bar-tailed Godwit that had been reported, but we didn't find it. We also missed Shiny Cowbirds that are sometimes reported from the visitor's center lawns there. We did find a few Brown-headed Cowbirds, but they're somewhat less exciting. The Indigo Buntings in the trees were cool, though.

Then we drove out. We stopped again at the Anhinga Trail to look for the Ani without success, but got to hear a pair of hooting Barred Owls in the late afternoon in the area of the Gumbo Limbo Trail. We tried to hunt them down, but weren't able to see them before they stopped calling. We did find a Brown Thrasher and a Swainson's Thrush, though. I believe the Swainson's Thrush was a previously reported wintering bird. That's incredibly rare, as Swainson's Thrushes migrate to South America every year.

And then we drove back to Miami for the night. Next day? The Florida Keys!

Pictures on Flickr.

Miami

We spent one day birding in Miami. It started out very slow, but it ended with success.

We started the morning at Kendall Baptist Hospital (which an accident made difficult to reach) to look for exotics. We started by wandering the lakes in front of the hospital looking for parrots, bulbuls and orioles. We didn't have any luck. There were plenty of Muscovy Ducks, Palm Warblers, and Grackles, though. Perhaps most interesting was the mixed flock of Red-masked and Red-mitred Parakeets that were flying around the grounds. But we have Red-mitred Parakeets in La Mirada, too, and we were hoping to get lucky with White-winged Parakeets - which would have been new. Since nothing was happening, we headed across the street to wander the neighborhoods looking for bulbuls and orioles.

It was pleasant over there. The streets were nicely manicured and full of nice eastern species. Blue Jays were common and we saw several Baltimore Orioles - which were our only for the trip. We also saw some White-winged Doves. Since Florida is just chock full of Eurasian Collared-Doves this southwestern exotic was a nice change. We spent the remainder of the relatively cool morning here, but there were no bulbuls. Or Spot-breasted Orioles. So we got back in the car and headed off.

We worked our way north along the one in the city and checked some other neighborhoods our book recommended for these species. No luck! So we checked the Tropical Audubon Society house for the orioles. Closed! At this point, the morning was almost gone. It was getting hot, and we hadn't found a single target, yet. So we made for the sea.

Our next destination was Bill Baggs Cape Florida State Park. On the southernmost tip of Key Biscayne, a barrier island north of the true keys, we were hoping to find a rare La Sagra's Flycatcher, and to check out a true migrant trap. We did pretty well for ourselves there.

First off, the drive over was nice. The causeway affords great views of Miami, and the water stretching out underneath is a pale tropical blue. On the island there were palms and sea grape and an occasional refreshing ocean breeze. Sure it was warm, but any air movement is a relief in the stifling humility.

There was also another lighthouse! While not nearly as high as Ponce de Leon, it was very nice. From the top, we could look down into the crystal water and got to see some very large stingrays swim by. That was awesome.

The lighthouse at Bill Baggs.

As we left the lighthouse we heard a calling Myiarchus flycatcher. We rushed after it and voila! there was the La Sagra's Flycatcher. We got hugely lucky, as we ran into some birders from northwest (Alaska and Washington) who had spent all morning looking without finding it. But they let us know there had been a Western Spindalis (a Caribbean tanager) discovered the day before in the park. They took us to the tree, but we never saw it. Still, the fruiting tree was attracting some migrant warblers, and we got our lifer Cape May and Black-throated Blue Warblers there. The tree also hosted some beautiful Prairie Warblers with unusually orange heads - a caretenoid pigment issue that made them look a lot like Blackburnians.

La Sagra's Flycatcher at Bill Baggs

Because of the Spindalis report, we ended up spending more time at the park than we might have otherwise, waiting in the shade of the tree and hoping to get a lucky glimpse of the bird. We we followed the advice of the birders we'd met and scanned all the telephone wires for Kingbirds. We eventually found some Gray Kingbirds - some of the year's first arrivals. This was another lifer, and a little later, a single Magnificent Frigatebird joined a Turkey Vulture above the seacoast at a great height. Now, that's a classy bird.

Anyway, eventually it was time to get going, so we headed out and north to Fort Lauderdale to look for Smooth-billed Anis. This species is a Caribbean specialty that has almost gone extinct in its North American range, so I was hoping against hope that we would be able to find one this trip. After all, who knows how much more time we have to see it (in the U.S., anyway)?

Unfortunately, we missed it. The vacant lot they're known to frequent is in a run down and poor area, and though we persisted despite the slightly unnerving atmosphere in walking around the lots a few times, we didn't see anything.

So, we headed back down to the hospital area again hoping to take an evening walk in the neighborhoods to take another crack at the orioles and bulbuls. After taking a relaxing dinner at an Italian restaurant in the area, we did just that. This time we double-checked the book to make sure we were walking the correct streets. It turned out we'd been one block too far west. I guess it makes a big difference because this time we saw dozens of Bulbuls and a family group of two or three Spot-breasted Orioles. It was a great relaxing evening walk, too, and a great capstone to an otherwise not-stellar outing.

Pictures on Flickr.

Next day? The Everglades!

Shuttles, Pinewoods and Peanuts

A space shuttle launch is an experience that I don't have the ability to express in words. I can throw out some apt descriptors, if you'd like. We can try words like awesome and sublime, or toy with superlatives like incredible or spectacular. But those words seem cheap and hollow in comparison to the simple memory I carry of a bright light arcing across the Atlantic and dipping into the sunrise.

Maybe I can't express the moment because I don't know why it was so powerful. What is it about space travel that fascinates us so much? Is it national pride? Pride in human accomplishment? Could it be a hubristic impulse in my lowly human nature? Did the U.S. build a new tower of Babel on the sandy beaches of Florida's Atlantic seashore?

Maybe it's the naked power of the event. The glaring fireball that rises into the sky does so with a sort of labored deliberateness that belies its cataclysmic power. The only appropriate metaphors for the sound - the rumbling tortured roar - are from natural disasters. It's like a continual thunder, a volcanic belch, or an earthquake's deep rumble.

Maybe it's the aesthetic wonder of the thing. The glooming dark and the enlivening light on the fringe of a peaceful deep sea; the soft white sand under our feet and the gentle sky embracing the scene; the sunrise and the delicate wake carved in it by the spacecraft as it became a distant star; All were gentle touches that contraposed themselves to the power of the thing. Even the glowing cloud floating in its wake and catching the first light of a new day was something wonderful.

Or, maybe, it's the archetypical meaning of the event. Has Icarus' ambition succeeded? Or has Phaeton learned how to handle his father's steeds? Mankind seems to defy sacred laws when he leaves the shelter of his given home. Ultimately, I may never know. But I'll always have that moment to revisit.

Sunrise and shuttle contrail.

The amazing thing about this sort of experience is that it ends, and even more amazing is that it left us most of the rest of the day for other things! So now it's time to shift gears and just record the rest of the day for posterity. It was a good thing it was still early because we were heading south to Miami. We started out heading south on the Cocoa Beach barrier island in order to avoid the crowds. This took us by Patrick Air Force Base's long sandy stretch of beach, so we stopped to take in our first Atlantic sunrise (in picture above).

While we were there we picked up a few shorebirds for our list, mused over whether or not distant Royal Terns could be Northern Gannets, and missed a lifer when a dark-backed gull flew by in the middle distance. We didn't know if it was a Lesser or Greater Black-backed Gull, but either would have been new to us. We also got overflown by a landing C-130. Pretty sweet!

Then we were off again! We soon turned inland and made for Three Lakes Wildlife Management Area. This was an area designated to protect a virgin Longleaf Pine forest and its game inhabitants (White-tailed Deer, Wild Turkey, Northern Bobwhite, and feral pigs). We were there for something else, though. It also contains a large population of Red-cockaded Woodpecker, an endangered species that uses Longleaf Pines for nesting. We were also shooting for Brown-headed Nuthatch and Bachman's Sparrows - two other southeastern species that use the pine forest habitat.

We did great! We got all three very easily despite dire warnings from a game warden at the entrance. The thing is, the Red-cockaded Woodpeckers only visit their nest holes around dawn and dusk, but we were there mid-morning. Despite the improbability, we got the birds in a big mixed flock within a few minutes of entering the reserve. Singing Bachman's Sparrows were common to within a few feet of our car, and the Nuthatches were mixed into the foraging flock that contained the nuthatches. We also go a great look at a Pileated Woodpecker here.

Unfortunately, not many pictures. But here's a nice one of Libby after we got the birds.

A happy lady

Since it was so easy for us to find the birds, and we'd given ourselves all day to do it - this was our only opportunity on the trip - we decided to explore the rest of the area a little further.

Our first stop was for gas and a restroom. While waiting for the bathroom to open up, I discovered that they were selling boiled peanuts. This being such a southern specialty, I knew that we had to get some. So we did. And they were amazing! Soft, fatty, salty, perfect! Oh yum!

We then birded Joe Overstreet Road, which is a fairly well known birding location. It took us out to Lake Kissimmee, providing views of Florida Crested Caracaras along the way, along with Sandhill Cranes, Wood Storks, Kildeer, and other grassland loving species. It was good fun, but after lunch it was time to hit the road. Destination: Miami.

We took the Ronald Reagan turnpike south through miles and miles of flat country. We saw big citrus orchards stretching off to the horizon, and Swallow-tailed Kites playing above the freeway. After what seemed like forever, we arrived at our motel in Kendall. This was our base for three nights, and we headed out to check it out.

Miami is well known for its big populations of established exotics. They have even more parrots than southern California or south Texas, an introduced tropical oriole (Spot-breasted), Red-whiskered Bulbuls, and Common and Hill Mynas (though only Common is currently countable). On our first foray through the town we found Monk Parakeets in a CVS parking lot. We got Common Mynas in the gutter outside a Wendy's parking lot (the guide recommends fast-food parking lots for this species). But the best bird of the afternoon was our first Prairie Warbler. These were very common in Florida, but it was a pleasure to get to know such a beautiful bird so well.

Our next day was planned for more Miami birding. Pictures from the day can be found on Flickr.

Easter Sunday

We celebrated Easter at the Episcopal Cathedral in Orlando. It was a beautiful building with a marvelous organ and choir. The music was well chosen and the opening hymn was especially stirring, bringing the right triumphant and joyful tone to the day. Of course, we missed celebrating at home, but we had made the decision to try it this Easter after observing the other Holy Week services back home.

After mass, we went birding at Wekiwa Springs State Park north of Orlando, where little avian jewels continued the anthems of praise in their own racing trills and crescendos. Northern Parulas and Blue-gray Gnatcatchers were the most prolific in the park, and while their music accompanied us for most of the day, we were also treated to the music of Northern Cardinals, Pine Warblers, Gray Catbirds and Tufted Titmice.

We went there in search of two species that we didn't find: Carolina Chickadee and Red-headed Woodpecker. We scoured the parking lot area for the Chickadees, looked high and low, listened carefully, but we couldn't find them. Still, the park itself is gorgeous and we didn't regret the trip. Other birds in the area included a calling Barred Owl that only Libby heard, Great-crested Flycatchers, Red-bellied Woodpeckers and a close fly-by of a Pileated Woodpecker. Those things are enormous!

Its main feature of the park is a giant walled in natural spring that comes out in quantity and force sufficient to be the headwaters of the Wekiwa River. So many people came that day to swim in it that they closed the park by 3:00 that afternoon as we were leaving. Before that, though, we headed a few miles north to a parking lot and trail head for lunch to escape the crowds. While there we were treated to three Swallow-tailed Kites playing in the air over a burned out patch of forest. Libby and I have both decided that this was the most breathtaking new bird we saw in Florida.

Swallow-tailed Kite

We also took a short walk into a new habitat for us. Florida has large tracts of pine forest that form open cathedral-like galleries with a brilliant green understory of saw palmetto. Each pine is narrow and sparsely needled, so there's a lot of open air and light. It's obviously a very fire dependent ecosystem, and a beautiful one, too, giving a true sense of depth in Florida's very flat landscape. On Monday we would visit a more extensive tract of forest like this, but more on that tomorrow!

A pine forest with palmetto understory.

There are more pictures on Flickr.

Florida or Bust!

Our flight to Florida left California at 10:30 on Good Friday evening. We hoped to sleep, but we only dozed in the flickering light of personal TV monitors and distant lightning over the Gulf of Mexico. When we arrived earlier than our forecasted 5:30 am arrival in Florida, the sun was still musing about whether or not to rise, but the excitement of being in a new place was as as good as coffee for keeping us awake for a little awhile, at least.

We hopped onto our rental car, and pulled out of the airport into a different world from our warm, dry home in California. Mist rising from the numerous ponds and fields obscured streetlights and blurred the fluorescent glow from building fronts as we pushed our way through the wet, warm night air south to Brinson Park in Kissimmee, Florida for our first stop.

Birding trips take you to out of the way places. Signs advertising turns to Disney World emerged from the ground fog as we zipped past them to the tiny park on the northern end of Lake Tohopekaliga. Stepping out into the parking lot, lit only by the gray lightening of the sky in the east that is the first harbinger of a new day, we heard our first new birds of the trip. Strange screaming wails rose from all around us. Limpkins - an ungainly nocturnal wading bird so strange it is in its own family all by itself - were talking to each other. (Listen to a clip of them at the MaCaulay library of sounds).

Waiting for the sun to rise, another unfamiliar sound floated down to our ears, the nasal calls of Fish Crows as flocks flew overhead, undoubtedly dispersing from some evening roost. Then, as the sky was tinged with pink, ratchety Boat-tailed Grackles joined the chorus. The sense of otherness from this cacophony of natural sounds was overwhelming. We were most definitely not in California anymore.

Then, as the sun began to rise, an Osprey flying over the road excited the object of our visit to this inauspicious patch of grass and a fishing dock - two small raptors rose up in challenge. We hurried across the road in time to see them coursing searchingly over the nearby reeds. Snail Kites can be a difficult species to find sometimes in Florida, but at Brinson Park a pair has taken up residence only a couple of hundred yards from the road. We enjoyed watching them catch and eat several large apple snails, and when the female landed in a tree only feet from us to eat her catch - the rising sun glowing through her outstretched wings - we could only catch our breath. These are the sorts of rich moments we pursue when we go looking for birds. Moments where the piercing richness of nature can break through even the groggy numbness of a sleepless night.

Snail Kite at dawn.

Of course, the day wasn't over. Next stop - Sedano's - the first supermarket we could find in Kissimee. We stocked up on the necessities for our trip's lunches and snacks, throwing a bag of cookies into the shopping cart with the happy anticipation of Easter the next day.

Then we were off to the Atlantic coast. Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge was acquired by the government as part of building the space program in Cape Canaveral. It hosts a lot of wading birds and ducks in the winter, and one of the largest populations of Florida Scrub-Jays in the state. We had lunch at the visitor's center, where we enjoyed our first Alligator of the trip, Painted Buntings, White-eyed Vireos, Northern Parulas and an Armadillo. Then we went for a hike on the short Scrub Ridge Trail, which was advertised as a sure bet for Scrub-Jays. Sure enough, we found some, though it wasn't as easy as we expected, and we also found a few hundred hungry mosquitoes.

Florida Scrub-Jay - a bird only found in Florida.

Our next priority was to attempt to see a Manatee. There's a shallow ledge on the Haulover Canal that we attempted, but we didn't see any from the viewing platform.

Having missed our turn and, as a result, the wildlife drive we had meant to travel, we ended up headed north to Ponce Inlet. Here we hoped to see Northern Gannets and Piping Plover, but we missed them both, though we saw our first ever Swallow-tailed Kite along the road! Instead, we happily found the second tallest lighthouse in the U.S. We enjoyed climbing over two hundred steps to the top platform and the resulting view.

Ponce de Leon Inlet Lighthouse

Then we dipped our feet in the Atlantic Ocean (so we could say we had) and drove back to Orlando for the evening. It was a full day, but a rich one, and we were looking forward to Easter Sunday in the morning.