One Last Hoorah

Rob and I went canoeing a few days ago. It's been a while, since he is always working these days. We both took a day off to go down the Santa Fe one last time before I leave town.

Unfortunately, it had been so long since we used the canoe that some large ants had moved in. A lot of them. Into both the front and the back of the boat, or as Rob insists I call them, the "bow" and "stern." I want to mention here that since I am not a pirate, I don't feel the need to use this fancy boat talk.

Anyway, we had to submerge the canoe for at least ten minutes to get rid of them all. 

But they were invincible! They floated toward shore in hordes and simply got out and began marching.

All those white dots in the above photo are ants. Here they are up close.

We didn't canoe very far -- just down to Blue Springs, where we canoed up a side spring run, and then back out and down to Ginnie Springs for some R & R. 

See the turtle (also known as a cooter)?

Rob demanded I take a photo of him.

A snake swam up to our canoe at Ginnie Springs and glared at me. It was kinda freaky, but I don't think the snake was a poisonous one. Still, who wants to be that close to any snake? It literally came up to the side of the canoe. Too close for me.

I'm in Europe right now, but wanted to finish this entry before I got back and became concerned with moving to D.C. (five days after my return). 

So this was my last Florida outing for the forseeable future.

Goodbye, river.

Goodbye, springs.

Goodbye, Florida.

More Crane Madness

Georgia and I went for a walk on Payne's Prairie this weekend. It was a blustery, miserable day, but tons of people were walking the La Chua trail because of the cranes.


Thousands of sandhill cranes have migrated down from northern parts to gather on the prairie (with native, non-migrating sandhills, which are a distinct but identical-looking subspecies) and eat insects, grubs, and frogs. They also spend a lot of time just standing around, talking to each other. If you click on this photo you can see a small fraction of the crowd that was there.


The photo also features two endangered whooping cranes, which hang out with the sandhills. There are only about thirty year-round whooping crane Florida residents -- and just 350 total wild whoopers in the wild. Of these, 68 of these migrate from Wisconsin to Florida every year (the juveniles with the guidance of the Whooping Crane Eastern Partnership), and the rest fly from northwest Canada to winter on the Texas coast.

The noise of the crane conference was unbelievable. But my favorite part of the visit was watching the sandhills land. They're a strange combination of elegant and goofy. When they're coming down from a flight, they're stretched parallel to the ground, with their long legs stretched behind them. Then, about fifty feet above the ground, they lower their legs like landing gear. Multiple cranes flying next to each other do this almost in unison. Thus they approach the ground, looking extremely intent and somewhat fragile. It makes me smile every time.


The prairie looked stark and beautiful that day.

Of course, there are always some wet areas.


The other interesting thing that happened that day was that there was a huge water moccasin parked next to the trail. All these people kept warning us about it. Yet those same people stood ten feet away from the snake, taking photographs and loudly talking about it. The snake did not look happy.


Me, I took a photo and then walked past it unmolested, on the other side of the trail.

Crane Madness!

Some sandhill cranes have been hanging out all week in the fields next to my work building. Here they are crossing the road.


By the USDA greenhouses.


They eyed us warily as we drove past them on our way to lunch.

Fishing with John

I went out to Emily's farm this weekend to do some fishin'. It was uber-dry, since we're several years into a drought. (I think we're thirty-some inches below normal.)


That little pond in the background is the last wet area of a huge lake. John says it's a sinkhole that never dries up. That's where we caught a bunch of bottom feeders (catfish). People other than me ate them later.


Also! Genuine alligator faysays sighting! This turd is about the length of an adult finger. Who knew alligator poop was so white? The alligator that begat this one is rumored to be 10 feet long.


Here's a photo from closer up.


That day I also saw tons of sandhill cranes and even a whooping crane! Two sandhills are pictured below, stalking insects and grubs in the farm fields.


The whooping crane was flying away from me, and I didn't get a photo. Sandhill cranes have the most beautiful call. Then again, so do whooping cranes -- I heard one last year on the prairie.

Catch of the Day

I went fishing this weekend. My friend Brandon and I went to Prairie Creek, which is along the Hawthorne Rail Trail. It's a dark creek that drains Newnan's Lake.


Actually, when I ride on the trail, this boardwalk is my turn-around point.


I caught a fish!!! It was a large catfish. I was very excited.


It doesn't look that big in this photo because Brandon has large feet. And it's flopping around.


We gave it to the dude who was fishing next to us. I don't eat fish and Brandon didn't want to skin it, although he said catfish are "good eatin'." I'll take his word for it. (He didn't catch anything.)

Who Made Dat Scat?

The other day Kim and I were walking to our building from the parking lot when I noticed this spoor. We knelt down and studied it, and then Kim took a photo.

If you look carefully at it, you'll see lots of wiry fur. My hypothesis is that it's from a gray fox (Urocyon cinereoargenteus). We've all seen them running in this vicinity (although I've said before I think they're red foxes; I vacillate about this), and foxes are omnivorous, enjoying meals of small rodents.

Kim thinks it's raccoon poop. But I can now say that I've done extensive research on animal droppings, and it seems that raccoons usually use one latrine spot for pooping, while foxes drop it on the run to mark territory. Fox poop is also said to have "a characteristic twist" (whatever that means), and I think this poop could fit that description.

I would have thought it would be much easier to find satisfactory photographs of animal waste on the Internet. I am disappointed in you, Internet.

A Walk in a Creek & the Woods

A couple of weeks ago I went for a walk with a friend in the Sweetwater Preserve right at the southern city limits of Gainesville. The 125-acre property was recently acquired by Alachua County Forever, our awesome county land conservation program that I volunteer with.


We were going to walk on the trails, but as we stood looking at the creek I thought back to my childhood and thought maybe we could recreate the feeling of those endless hours watching turtles, crawdads, minnows, tadpoles, and frogs and searching for shark's teeth, arrowheads, and anything else of interest.

We took off our shoes, rolled up our jeans, and climbed down the least-eroded part of the bank into the creek.


The water was low, and we sloshed downstream in shin-deep water.


I hoped we'd see a snake. This is perfect water moccasin habitat. Not that I want to encounter a moccasin -- just see one.


But the creek was a disappointment. The banks were severely eroded.


Tiny pieces of broken glass were embedded in the sand. Trash snagged in exposed tree roots. It was depressing. And the thing is, you could tell that glass and trash wasn't dumped there. It had washed there from upstream. (More on this later.)

The only life -- the only life -- we saw was an invasive nine-banded armadillo. No snakes. No minnows. No tadpoles. No turtles. No birds!!

Disheartened, we decided to try the woods. We climbed out of the water and went walking barefoot on the trails.


And guess what we saw?


Nothing. No life. Except, of course, nine-banded armadillos. The best part of the walk was the autumn color.


So, what gives?

Gainesville is covered by a network of creeks, many of which have been paved or built over. One of my best friends is the creeks coordinator for the city. She told me that the remainder are so polluted that they can't be saved. Evidently, our sewage treatment plant dumps treated wastewater into the creeks. This water is full of nutrients, which suck all the oxygen out of the water, starving plants and animals. This is totally legal.

Gainesville's stormwater, on the other hand, is not treated. Anything on the streets, sidewalks, etc., that gets washed or dumped or thrown or blown into storm drains goes straight into our creeks.

I still remember the day my creek died. I was about ten. I grew up playing in Hogtown Creek in a less-developed part of my neighborhood. One day, we noticed houses were being built along the creek. The development was to be called "Mill Pond." There was no pond, as far as I know. What there was was a clear, healthy, life-filled creek. And they built right up to the edge of that creek.

One weekend a friend and I rode bikes down there to spend a few hours catching minnows and tadpoles, and the creek stank. The water was filled with green slime, and the sand along the edges was orange. There were no animals, no fish, no invertebrates. I tried going back a few times, but nothing ever changed. I figure that development company threw some new lawns out, applied a bunch of fertilizer, and whatever was extra just washed into the creek, killing everything that was there.

When I wrote the city about how sad my recent visit to Sweetwater Creek made me, I was advised to wash my hands after playing in my hometown's creeks. Apparently, I could catch any number of feces-related diseases.

Sometimes, a walk in the woods isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Quick Update

I have not abandoned ye olde blog. I will be taking photos again (first item of business: Thanksgiving dinner) and posting stuff soon, as Kim has replaced the missing shutter release button on my camera! Reader, that sassy crafter replaced it with a thumbtack! And it actually looks like the real thing. Amazing.

In other news, Georgia saw a red fox (Vulpes vulpes fulva -- I like saying that ten times fast) at work yesterday. I have seen a fox there before, but it was at least a year ago. When I told Tom, he said he saw two foxes there a few evenings ago! I think they live in the woods near our building -- the woods which are, like, thirty feet from the busiest road in town and only about twenty acres. (OK, I admit I am terrible at measurements and such. I'm estimating. Maybe I will try to find out exactly.) One of these days, I might have to go exploring on my lunch hour...

And I have been remiss in recognizing a very special birthday. My blog is now over a year old -- fourteen months, to be exact. If I could hold my blog in my arms, I would have someone take a photo of us and post it on Facebook. That seems to be the trend among my friends and their spawn these days. And lord knows I try to fit in.

Summer, We Hardly Knew Ye

OK, I admit I'm only a little sorry summer is over. I was tired of sleeping in my living room -- especially because I recently bought new, soft sheets that I wanted to enjoy on my bed -- and there is nothing I despise more than roaches, which thrive in the heat and humidity. Plus I'm tired of wearing the same thing all the time and I want to start riding my bike to work more, which I refuse to do from about June to September.

But it is a little bittersweet to say goodbye to fresh Silver Queen corn on the cob, field peas, and boiled peanuts, not to mention a quiet college town (the students came back at the end of August).

That said, the past couple of weeks have brought us beautiful weather here. Some kind of cool breeze floated down from Canada, bringing with it clear, crisp skies and mild temperatures (the 70s). As a final farewell to summer, this weekend I went with Rayne to the Ichetucknee Springs State Park, at the north end of the river. It was idyllic. I wasn't in a great mood when we got there, but by the time we left I felt completely, utterly, blissfully happy. Not to sound hokey, but I think there's something really healing in those waters, and I don't mean the nutrient-fed algae.

After we were done swimming, we sat on the ground near the spring, enjoying the sunlight filtering through the trees and the hypnotizing turquoise of the water. I idly noticed a slight rustling in the nearby erosion-exposed, leaf-covered roots of tree on the shoreline. Curious, I kept watching, eventually seeing a snake slide silently into the water. S/he swam rapidly along the bottom toward the spring run. It was so cool! I've only ever seen a snake swim at the surface of water. Two bass chased it, either trying to scare it away or catch scraps from its meals. It was about four feet long and skinny, with dark-gray or brown blotches all down its body. I think it was either a brown water snake or midland water snake.

Poaching Hawks

This year I've noticed an unusual preponderance of hawks in Gainesville. Everywhere I go, it seems, I hear them screaming, or whatever it is called, or see them circling or perching. There's at least one hawk that lives near my house, at least one in my parents' neighborhood, and a couple in another neighborhood where I spend a lot of time.

But the best hawk-watching is at work. I have a large picture window in my cubicle that looks out onto a sort of yard outside our building. A pair of hawks lives nearby, and they like to hang out on the telephone poles, telephone wires, and trees right outside my window, cleaning their beaks, ignoring angry swooping mockingbirds, and turning their heads 180 degrees. They eat insects at the base of the poles and fly around looking for rodents or whatever. They're magnificent.

Photo by Kim

I think they're red-shouldered hawks, and I'm pretty sure they're a mated pair. Their nest is near the top of a pine tree near our parking lot, about 70 feet up. I don't have any [poached] photos of the nest, but I thought I'd mention it anyway. Around May I heard some chicks peeping! But I never saw them fledge. I wonder what happened to them. Did they make it? Do they live nearby?

Photo by Kim

I have a theory about why hawks are so ubiquitous in Gainesville this year. Here it is: This fall there was a huge crop of acorns, bigger than anyone I know from North Florida can remember it being. I postulate that the population of squirrels therefore exploded, and that the hawks chowed on the squirrels, meaning more of them mated successfully, and more of those chicks survived. Anyway, it's all I got.

Photo by Jen

I never "got" birdwatching until a couple of years ago. Before that, I was all, who cares about birds? But there's nothing like living in L.A. for two years to remind you what's so amazing about North Florida. A couple of years ago I started spending a lot of my free time canoeing on various Florida rivers and paying close attention to wildlife. The more I learned, the more in awe of birds I was. There's something very satisfying about paying careful attention to the plants and animals of a place. I'm not sure I can articulate it more clearly than saying it just makes me feel more alive.


Note: I still don't have a camera, as you can see. These photos were poached from my co-workers. (Thanks!) Until I get another digital camera, I'll try to keep the blog up as much as I can with other people's photos.

Santa Fe River at Poe Springs

I went to a meeting Wednesday at the Poe Springs lodge. I love meetings where I can stare out huge picture windows at the trees and river when I need to daydream. At our break time, I went down to the riverbank and lay in the grass.


Fish were jumping like crazy and I heard woodpeckers, a family of hawks, two barred owls, and countless songbirds. You can hear some of them in the short video below .

Emily's Farm

This weekend Emily had a holiday party at her house, which is on her in-laws' farm just south of town. It's such a special place. The family has been on the farm some ridiculously long period of time, from back when settlers were unironically named "Innocent" and "Charity." (Well, maybe it was just a pre-irony time altogether.)

Anyway, Em's husband, John, took me on an awesome extended tour of the farm, and I got to take some photos.

This is two huge live oaks that decided to live in peace and harmony by growing away from each other. How do trees know to do that? It amazes me.


When I see live oaks draped with Spanish moss like this, it makes me think of how North Florida must have looked in prehistoric times.


The sun was going down and the light was really beautiful on the cabbage palms as we looked out at the prairie.


Sadly, a lot of farms like this are quickly disappearing from the Florida landscape. Family agriculture is always pretty marginal, and developers pay a lot of money to get their hands on this pristine land. People move to places like this for the beautiful green spaces and "nature," but buy houses that preclude the existence of viable habitat.

Agriculture is important to the state because the green space it provides allows rainwater to soak back into the aquifer (from where we get almost all our drinking water), unlike paved areas. Green space also produces oxygen and helps cleanse our air, raises the value of our homes, and provides important wildlife habitat.

Besides a bunch of recalcitrant cattle, on our drive we saw alligators, several flocks of sandhill cranes flying in to roost for the night, and a large red-tailed hawk on the hunt. I'm sure there are also plenty of foxes, deer, and bald eagles around there--and even bobcats, panthers, bears, and whooping cranes.