Get Low
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| “Edge of the World” – Florida Bay – Everglades National Park |
The Dreamcatcher
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| “The Dreamcatcher” – Florida Bay – Everglades National Park – Photo © Mac Stone |
The Everglades hosts the largest continuous stand of mangroves in the world. These gothic trees, with their crawling prop roots and arching limbs, are one of my favorite subjects to photograph. They each take on their own personality formed by wind, water, light, and even by the birds that roost upon their branches. Of the entire 850 square miles of Florida Bay that I’ve explored, however, there is only one particular mangrove that I have come to regard as my favorite. It sounds ridiculous to admit this, to hold preference of one tree over millions, but this partisanship isn’t unique to just me. All of my coworkers at Audubon each have their adored mangrove, one that seems to smile back at them when their boats race by.
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| “Dreamcatcher Dusk” – Florida Bay – Everglades National Park – Photo © Mac Stone |
Roseate Spoonbills
We’re finding a healthy variation of chicks at different stages, from hatchlings to fledglings, all across the Bay. This isn’t out of the ordinary but it helps us see how these birds’ nesting schedules are related to food availability. For example, in the northwestern section of the Bay where tides control water levels, spoonbills nested earlier in the season because they could find sufficient food as tides withdrew. When you boat eastward where wind and rainfall controls water levels, you find that spoonbills choose to nest later, waiting for the dry season to kick in. Once water levels are low enough to amass fish in large concentrations, adults will commit to laying a clutch. With shallow water bringing an abundant food source, adults will be able to sustain their young through the nesting season. That’s the plan, at least.
Recently a cold front pushed through south Florida and dumped rain for three straight days. What seems like a small event to us, a 4-inch rise in water levels effectively disables the spoonbills from accessing optimal foraging grounds. Immediately after, across the board, we witnessed an abandonment of nests and several chicks not far from fledging, washed up in the mangroves. While it’s too early in the data set to directly connect the rain event to nest abandonment, we can’t say it was entirely coincidence.
I can’t tell you how heart-wrenching this is to see, how helpless they look, but it’s the reality that these birds live with. Albeit disturbing, this is exactly the point Audubon is trying to drive home. Water levels determine everything in the southern Everglades and Florida Bay. While we can’t control the weather, we are controlling the water flowing from the north and we must be extremely careful with how we use it
Flamingos!
You may remember a post I did back in August of last year where I freaked out about getting to see my first flamingo in Florida Bay. Pete Frezza and I pulled around for nearly 15 miles trying to get a good glimpse of that one bird and I thought it would be my last chance. Oddly, this year for a period of about three months a group of 19 flamingos found refuge in Lake Ingram. A frenzy ensued with birders, photographers, and anglers trying to get good looks at these birds, and there they were; a mix of adults and juveniles not 20 yards from one of the busiest channels in the park. Biologists are guessing they’re Bahamian birds and hopeful that they’ll continue to use Cape Sable as a foraging ground. I just stoked I was able to see this incredible sight before they flew back home.
Gettin High
I’m constantly trying to find new ways of seeing the Bay. I’ve been fortunate enough lately to find friends around South Florida and organizations willing to take me up in their fixed-wing planes. Of course I always fail to mention to the pilot, until I’m strapped in that I don’t do well in small aircrafts. Once they start looking for any spare bags I then offer them the challenge of trying to get me back on the runway without incident, as if it were any measure of their skill.
Roseate Spoonbill Chicks
The spoonbills are well on their way to creating the new generation of wading birds to call Florida Bay home. I’ve been scouring almost every single island from the Keys out to Cape Sable in search of colonies. What I’m finding are an array of breeding pairs that are inhabiting keys where we never expected to find them. Last week as I peered into one of the nests I watched a chick peck its way through the egg as its two older siblings clamored about. It was one of those moments where I felt extremely proud to be an Audubon employee. I couldn’t help but laugh though, when thinking about the misfortune of being given, of all things, a spoon to break your way out of a windowless cage. The egrets and herons have it far easier.
Send Off: Florida Wildlife Corridor Expedition
This morning Jerry Lorenz and I drove out to Flamingo in Everglades National Park to send off a friend and fellow conservation photographer Carlton Ward Jr. who embarked on a 1,000 mile expedition. This adventure is known as the Florida Wildlife Corridor and will help to lay the foundation of a conservation initiative linking critical fragmented landscapes. It’s an extremely bold task and I’m so upset I can’t go with him. Joining Carlton, is filmmaker Elam Stoltzfus, and bear biologist Joe Gutherie, two brave souls who say they’re “in it to win it.” Carlton’s expedition will meet up with artists and paddlers all over Florida as they make their way north. I’m planning on meeting them on the 24th while accompanying the Arthur Marshall Foundation who are on their own paddling expedition to show the importance of our waterways in south Florida. First, though he’ll have a hearty paddle up to Avocado Creek and then a rough slog atop jagged limestone through miles of sawgrass in Shark Slough. When I said goodbye to Carlton and his crew today, he said, “I’ll see see you in a few days!” With a nervous tone I replied, “Yeah, I hope so…”
Winter, By Any Other Name…
Lost and Found
I love watching adventure shows where the protagonist drops in on an island and must use his immediate resources to survive or escape. I’m always skeptical too, of the serendipity that Bear Grylls just happens to find a 30 foot rope, a lighter, or gallon jugs half-filled with potable water washed up on the shores. Surely, the producers must have planted some of that stuff before filming. I held this skepticism until I started exploring the islands in Florida Bay for our spoonbill research with Audubon. Now, I find myself eager to go to work if not just for the spoonbills but also because I never know what I’ll find while walking through mangrove tangles or kayaking along the mud flats.
The most common things I find are colorful stone crab buoys which at a distance have fooled me to believing there were flamingos in the central bay. I have also started a collection of drink cozies with faded tackle shop labels. Antique bottles are a great treasure to find and I have a couple that date back a century. There’s no shortage of homeless sandals either. Crocs brand are the most common, and if anyone needs a size 9, 10, or 12, then I have you covered. Why is it always the left shoe that people lose?
It’s no surprise really. With all the boaters, residents, and visitors to the Keys and Everglades a few things are bound to arrive on the islands of this 850 square-mile wilderness. For years the Everglades was renowned for its lawless backcountry allowing drug smugglers a perfect location for trafficking. Veteran fishing guides who wish to remain nameless, muse on the days of their biggest catches, landing large “square groupers,” caught in the tidal flats which would fetch $200,000 at market price.
While contraband busts rarely run the headlines, the Everglades remains vast and largely unpatrolled by park officials. Just last week, while exploring an island in the northwest Bay, I saw something strange washed up on a sandy beach.
A blue vessel, made of canvas stretched over two large tire inner tubes with oar-locks, and a heavy plastic keel, sat abandoned at the high tide line. At closer inspection, inside the cockpits were cans of tuna, varying flavors of soda, and a couple of sweaters. Although the labels slightly worn, I could tell immediately where this raft came from. It’s incredible to think two people floated in open ocean aboard this backyard-assembled dinghy. Being only 90 miles from Cuba, Florida Bay is really the perfect destination for refugees. I just hope they didn’t get too antsy and try to swim the remaining 5 miles to mainland through the shark and croc-infested water. For a moment, I looked up, scared to find the stranded sailors watching me from the trees, but at this point they were long gone.
I may not be Bear Grylls, but I’d like to think that if I were to be stranded on one of these islands, I’d be able to survive just fine. With my luck, I’d just hop on the next abandoned life raft and paddle safely to shore, gorging on canned tuna and orange soda.
Winter’s Approach
We had our first bite of winter last week. It’s strange. One day I’m snorkeling in the Bay, the next, I’m wearing a ski hat and winter coat while boating to work. I love this time of year. Migratory birds are filling the skies and roseate spoonbills are starting to build nests. The mornings are electric with piercing warm light that seems to last for an hour. On the open water, crisp zephyrs rip across the Bay ushering in the seasonal shift. The wind is changing and there’s no better place to put it than a couple of sails.
It seems like it’s my first weekend in quite some time where I’m not running around at a thousand miles per hour trying to juggle deadlines and catching flights. So when my friend Steve Pollock invited me out on his newly restored sailboat, it actually felt strange to say yes. Sometimes the grind keeps me going, it keeps me fulfilled knowing that my time bears fruit. Sometimes though, it’s just nice to turn off the motor and go slow for a change.
The Magic Hour
So if dawn is the blue hour, then the moments before and after dusk are what photographers call the magic hour. Within the last minutes before and after the sun drops below the horizon, the color palette shifts creating dramatic differences in tones and hues, completely altering the mood of the landscape. While out paddling with a good friend and photographer Paul Marcellini, I got a first hand look at how Florida Bay changes in a matter of minutes. Now the hard part is just figuring out which one I like more.
Power Struggle
In the still of a mauve morning, the full moon sets over the Bob Keys and a storm lingers in the west. During the blue hour of twilight, a dramatic tension fills the air as night reluctantly succumbs to the day. “Power Struggle,” is the newest image to go into my Florida Bay portfolio and I can’t wait to see it in a bigger format!
I made this image while a couple photographer friends were visiting for the weekend. Wanting a chance to shoot early morning light with mangroves and a setting full moon we boated out at 5:00 AM from Islamorada to get to our location. Since it was pitch black, finding the banks and cuts was a little difficult but we managed to make it to South Park Key at just the right time. I felt so lucky to have a full moon, lightning, morning light, and mangroves in the same image.
The predawn ambiance was spectacular and we treaded lightly through the flats spooking lemon sharks that trolled the shallow water. It was an easy place to feel overwhelmed since there are simply thousands of potential images but recently I’ve been trying to lock in on my spot and work it until it sings. It certainly paid off this time.
Trolllin’ and Pollin’ Everglades Style
The same places I’ve been visiting since I arrived here are still continuing to surprise me. There’s no shortage of adventure and discovery in Everglades National Park, that’s for sure. With my friend, coworker, and backcountry fishing guide Pete Frezza, we headed out before dawn to meet the sun as it rose over the Everglades. Launching his boat we battled swarms of mosquitoes fully understanding our blood was a necessary sacrifice for our plans that day.
Right off the bat, the calm water began rippling out from the banks as juvenile tarpon rolled violently on unsuspecting minnows. I had never seen anything like that in South Florida. The only time I watched fish rise this frequently was on the North Platte River in Wyoming, and those were 15” trout. These were 30” tarpon. By my third cast I had one on the fly and it sent itself rocketing into the blue morning sky. What a way to start the day!
Pete was nice enough to let me have the first casts, but promptly after I wanted to see how it was done by a pro. Watching a seasoned fisherman cast into the tight spots around mangroves is like watching an artist at work. His fly danced and line undulated in beautiful loops and fell silently on the water, presenting an unresistable morsel to the fish below.
And just when we thought it couldn’t get any better than fishing on a Monday, a double rainbow appeared over the water. We stayed in this spot for the next two hours and found a few young snook which was encouraging to see since their numbers declined so abruptly after the 2010 freeze.
The bay was like glass and we could see redfish tailing in the flats as the tide drew out. Along the banks, dense mats of turtle grass floated on the surface, uprooted by storm surges and water currents, then elegantly arranged in lava-like tendrils of varying colors. Great white herons dotted the horizon waiting for unsuspecting toadfish and crabs to swim by. Just when it couldn’t get any better, all of a sudden by the shoreline we spotted it; my very first wild flamingo.
I’ve seen plenty of flamingos in zoos and postcards in all the stores down here, I’ve even drunk out of a plastic one, but never fully appreciated these birds until this moment. I couldn’t believe how they dwarfed all the shorebirds and wading birds along the coast. Maybe because they’re rare, maybe because we pulled 5 miles to get there, whatever the case I was overcome with this entitled feeling that I had been let into some special club. My camera was working, batteries at full charge, and an empty memory card, things were looking good. We approached slowly, but we couldn’t quite get close enough for a candid image. Wary of people, the flamingo would promptly take off as soon as we got within 50 feet, extending its long awkward neck and using the flats as its runway. It seemed to take forever for the bird to get into the air.
After another hour, we saw the flamingo land near some other wading birds. Hoping that power in numbers would make this bird feel safer we headed towards them and were able to get a little closer. Just then, my polarizer fell off my lens and scared the bird away. I managed to get some frames off just before, but still, with such a rare sighting, the images I was making didn’t match what I was feeling. Fortunately, the flamingo landed with a group of white herons. Seeing the image line up, Pete helped paddle us into a position to juxtapose the mangrove islands of Florida bay and this odd family of birds against the afternoon horizon.
Given the light and the physical circumstances, I couldn’t have been happier. And just in time too, because looking behind us, a storm was brewing, forcing us off the flats to bring our 15 mile pole and paddle to an end. I’m still buzzing from the energy.
Restore Florida Bay
Returning the Favor
It’s easy to enjoy Florida Bay and Everglades. The large expanses of shallow water and open space make this area critical for fisheries and the livelihoods of countless people. There’s always a challenge, however, with managing such vast landscapes and protecting them from misuse. The Fish and Wildlife Commission as well as park officials, do a great job enforcing laws and holding citizens accountable for their actions. However, there are far too many boat ramps and backcountry hideouts to stay vigilant all the time. Often times, the burden falls upon the shoulders of individuals to step up and do their part in protecting what they have come to love. When people pool their efforts together, there’s so much you can accomplish.
Last Sunday 35 people from the Keys to Homestead met at the Card Sound boat ramp to clean up the basin. This area is particularly abundant with stone crabs, blue crabs, and lobsters which attract trappers in the open season. When the season closes, however, the unmarked crab traps are often forgotten about or left to harvest illegally throughout the year. Derelict crab traps are a huge problem in the area as they pose major threats to terrapin, fish, and crabs that continue to enter the traps. After four hours, with the help of the airboat community, concerned boaters, and volunteers from Audubon we managed to pull out 230 traps. Not to mention various articles of trash including 8 tires, a TV, buckets, PVC pipes, a machete, and other items. It was a good day for the Everglades and a proud day for everyone that got to pitch in and protect something they love.
Mangroves
I’ve been obsessing over mangroves lately. They are the unyielding force of the Everglades. Each of them with a unique footprint and a character all their own. Constantly bending and stretching to reach fertile ground, they posses a certain ingenuity, an intelligence, even.
Mangroves are tricky subjects to photograph, though. Their waxy leaves reflect harsh light in the afternoons and around sunset, even the slightest wind will move their outstretched branches during long exposures.
One of the more bizarre landscapes I’ve seen was right at the end of the dry season at the top of Florida Bay. For a week, North winds pushed water into the mangrove swamps along Taylor River. The ground, still parched from the months without water, stayed defiantly cracked and broken regardless of the water that now filled the area. I’d been to this place dozens of times and never seen it this way.
"Swept Away"
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| Swept Away – Florida Bay |
Rain?
While South Florida waits for the summer rains, I’ve been enjoying heading out to my favorite backcountry locations to see how the prolonged dry season continues to reshape the landscape. Places that I could normally access by motorboat have now limited me to using a push pole or kayak.
On Florida Bay, even the tides seem to become a little more drastic as the river of grass has turned into a mere trickle, limiting the supply of freshwater expelled into the bay.
Still, big thunderheads and towering cumulous clouds develop in the early mornings and late afternoons. And just when we think we’re getting the first big rains, after only a few hours the storm passes and we’re left with just the afterthought of a summer that never seems to come.
NPR Interview
This afternoon I drove out to Ft Myers for an interview with National Public Radio’s WGCU member station hosted by Amy Tardif. The topic was Florida’s water and the various uses of multimedia to communicate the importance of maintaining and restoring our state’s compromised hydrology. I spoke for the second half of the program after Clyde Butcher and Elam Stoltzfus. Although it was a long drive to get there, I had a great time talking about the new projects I’m working on for National Audubon and also my ongoing photography portfolio on swamps of the east coast. I’m just happy I didn’t stumble too badly over my words! If you missed the live stream that I linked to on facebook and twitter, you can listen to the audio track here or on my website.
For more information on NPR’s WGCU or to hear the full interview check out their website
Mac Stone Photography 