Wildlife 2060

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"Florida's population to DOUBLE over the next 50 years!" That was the conclusion of a research project called Florida 2060 released by 1000 Friends of Florida two years ago. Maps delineating urban sprawl were shocking, showing the loss of 7 million acres (equal to the state of Vermont) of rural and natural lands.

In response, Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission prepared a follow-up report to show the impact that 18,000,000 more humans will have on Florida's wildlife. It is called Wildlife 2060: What's at Stake for Florida? And it has just been released. You can view and download a pdf of the report at http://myfwc.com/Wildlife2060/Docs/FWC2060.pdf … And that's worth doing!

I feel honored to have a number of my photographs included in this impressive, if dire, report. I have included some of the images here to entice you to have a look at Wildlife 2060. The report is short but powerfully written by Susan Cerulean (http://www.susancerulean.com/), and the creative graphics designed by Faye Gibson, illustrate some of the points -- for example how many other animals and what types might be lost from the development of one black bear's home range of 25,000 acres.

There are stories about the plight of the sea turtles, the fragile state of our freshwater rivers and aquifers, and various Floridians' efforts to set aside land for conservation and restore lost habitat.

Check it out, become more informed and inspired to join the voices calling for careful balanced growth. dm

Coolness on a Hot Day

Can you believe this place is in central Florida?! I made this photo on Friday at a little-heard-of place called Devil's Den about 10 miles from Gainesville. Essentially the Den is a dome-shaped cavern with a spring water floor and a smallish hole in its roof ringed by the drapery of vines. Through this ceiling window bursts a shaft of light which illuminates the depths. Upon entering through a small side cave, I was stunned by this view. To add to the surreal effect, there are enormous catfish, some 3 feet long, gliding slowly about in the pool.

This is a scuba diver's destination. (There are twenty or so steps down to a floating platform - I was near the top of the steps.) The cavern is said to be so enormous underwater that it requires 2 to 3 tankfuls of air to see the whole submerged room. No divers here Friday.

For this photo, I had to make several exposures and combine them to get the wide range of light in the darkness. Click on the image above to see a larger version.

What a cool place!

Redbay Going Extinct?

How can it be? Walking from my house to the Wakulla River, about a half mile, I count no fewer than 50 redbays in the understory along the road and path. In fact, it's the MAIN tree in the understory. Our favorite stretch of the river is lined with hundreds of these beautiful bright green leafy trees, hanging shadily overhead as we paddle downstream.
So my response is numb disbelief - the denial stage of my grief - to the recent discovery that this ubiquitous fragrant beauty of our woods is dying.
A small ambrosia beetle has made its way from Asia to SE United States, stowed away in the wood of crates on a big ship. This insect bores into the heart of the redbay, infecting it with laurel wilt, and the tree dies. The disease is rapidly spreading west from the Atlantic coast, leaving browned and wilted trees, by the thousands, in it's wake. The redbay and sassafras are cousins of the avocado, and both are doomed... the avocado too? No word on that yet.
These are a few first images I've made of still-healthy trees in my yard. The last one is sassafras. Here's a great story in Terrain.org with all the details. Clicking on the last image - sassafras - will take you to a better version of the image on my website.

Florida Pelicans

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The paradoxical pelican - clutzy and graceful at the same time - can provide hours of entertainment along Florida's coast. Pelicans make a great study for photographers, especially for flight shot practice. And for portraits, action shots, and seascapes, no other bird offers such versatility, cooperation, and accessibility.

On my recent workshop with Artie Morris in southwest Florida, I again encountered both Brown and White Pelicans. Many of the birds in this highly human-populated area are comfortable around people, and plenty have learned that fishermen (and tourists and photographers) can supply an easy meal. We found such a flock at the fishing docks in Placida. Artie was happy to reinforce the begging birds, sending them into a frenzy with a tossed bait fish. Pelicans were coming and going, making take-offs and landings easy to capture. For awhile I practiced some long-exposure-blurs, trying to keep the center point on the face of the bird (for a sharp eye). This proved to be quite difficult but I did get a few interesting effects. Here's one I liked.

At Estero lagoon, we came across some tourists with a bucket of fish, trying to attract the egrets and herons fishing there, but the pelicans kept rushing their offerings. The happy pelican at the top of this blog is about to make a mid-air catch.

Not all pelicans are so human-friendly. (Luckily, I suppose.) I photographed these three white pelicans swimming near shore, but this is the first time I have been able to get close to these elegant birds. Once at Lake Okeechobee, I paddled into the lake from Fisheating Creek, climbed out on a bar (camera-in-hand) and before I knew they were there, a flock of white pelicans took off from a small inlet on the other side of the sawgrass. Most often, I see whites from a distance, often in large flocks.

Whether human-acclimated or in wilder places, it's always fun to sit and watch these birds as they glide on the updrafts in formation, dive for fish, paddle deftly like little boats, maneuver a fish around in their pouches for a face-first swallow, roost on shrimp boats or pilings, or fight for the spoils at the fishing docks.

Venice Rookery at the Crack of Dawn

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Dawn was still well off when we arrived this March morning. I was with a small group of photographers led by Artie Morris. Tripods, flashes, and humans lined up along the shore of their pond in the darkish pre-dawn... which could have been an eerie spectacle for the birds on the island - except that it undoubtedly happened every few days during the nesting season. They were unperturbed.
Not sure what to do with so little light, I was winging it, so to speak, when I made my first keeper that morning... a nice flash blur of a great blue taking off. The birds had become increasingly active as the light crept in. Several pairs of Great Blue Herons shared this small island in the small lake in the county park in Venice. We watched as the males fetched sticks for the females who constructed the nests. There were awkward moments of handing off sticks, bill to bill, and funny ones, when an incoming bird annoyed a neighbor. Sometimes the builder would find a given stick unacceptable, but most of the time she accepted it with grace and intention.
Back and forth the birds went, offering ideal photo ops for the gawking humans... hey, how about a little privacy?! These regal birds would soon be laying eggs, and with some luck, raise a small brood of not-so-regal-looking young'uns. Here are some of the more-like-dinosaur-babies from a previous season.
This was our first outing as a group... and Artie meant to keep us going from 5 am until 9+ pm every day of the workshop, mostly teaching on the fly, so to speak. It was a pretty amazing trip to SW Florida!

Florida Yokels in Yellowstone Winter

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We had the good fortune to visit Yellowstone National Park over New Years... quite a treat for a couple of snow-naive adventurous Floridians. The flights were problematic, but we finally got to Gardiner, MT about 3 am... only a few hours before our scheduled 4 hour snow coach ride into the heart of the park.

The snowcoach is a van with tracks instead of wheels. With our daughter, her boyfriend, and his Wyoming family (who had invited us along), we piled into the coach in pre-dawn darkness and sub-zero temperatures. I was honored with 'shotgun'. A gentle mist and occasional snow flurries shrouded the land, but within half an hour, we spotted 5 wolves close to a bison carcass maybe 50 yards from the road. Our knowledgeable guide, Big Dave, graciously stopped and allowed us to get out for a better view. While the visibility wasn't great, the wolves, in their misty blue landscape, thrilled us all. It was an auspicious beginning.

The rest of the ride was remarkable in many ways, but I'll share just one more story, well, maybe two. While stopped to view some of the first bison we saw (later, they surrounded our coach as we slowly followed a herd along the road), we saw an eagle fly in and land on the ground nearby. On closer look, there was a pair of eagles who were contentedly tearing into a recently killed trumpeter swan. Exciting enough! However, a minute later, one of the bison broke from the herd and ambled toward the eagles. As he drew near, his tail lifted. Uh oh! We had learned that this meant one of two things - he was about to take a dump OR he was pissed and ready to charge. As he picked up speed, the eagles scattered... but only to land a few yards away. The bison stopped when he arrived at the dead swan, sniffed it, licked it, and then stood there, as if to guard it. The eagles were distraught. This image shows them pacing and flapping their wings about, as if to say, "Hey, how dare you?! Get away from our breakfast". But the bison was steadfast and soon joined by the rest of the herd, surrounding the dead swan as though it was a recently deceased calf. We had to leave while this standoff continued. Bison appear to stay the course.


At another stop at Gibbon Falls, our daughter and Flo (a high school exchange student from Belgium) traded dares and both slid down a steep snowy hillside. While fun in theory, a good bit of the flying snow found its way inside their jackets and other layers . In my passion to get a good image at the bottom of the hill, I too caught a full spray of wetter-than-expected snow in my face and camera. What did I expect? How much more fun was in store in the days ahead!

Rescue of theTortured Hawk

On Thursday, several of us headed out to explore and photograph the Aucilla River. Turned out the water level was too low, so we only made three miles (in several hours) and had to give up. (I did get some good photos though.) The former shoals and rapids were mere beds of sharp, slippery rocks. Anyway, two of us were waiting where we pulled our boats out (near a road) while the others walked back to get the car. Something white flashed in the woods and caught Liz's eye. It turned out to be this beautiful red-tailed hawk.
She must have dived low over the river to catch a fish and instead, got caught on someone's abandoned trot line. The hook snagged her right elbow. Luckily the line broke and she was able to fly up to this tree.... but then the line got tangled on the tree. The hawk was able to stand on a small branch, with her wing pulled overhead, but she was exhausted when we found her. A predator would surely have found her before morning... but, lucky again, we found her. I climbed to where I could throw a shirt over her, and a couple more to disable the talons and beak, then cut the line and the little branch (so she could keep holding on). She stared into my eyes the entire time, threatening a little, but never struggling. She gratefully swallowed water I dribbled into her mouth and rode to town swaddled on my lap.
Sue called the Animal Hospital to let them know we were bringing her in, though we wished we'd called St. Francis directly and talked with Sandy because the vet needed St. Francis's directives before they could treat her. She was quite shocky, but, I hope in pretty good shape. She didn't seem to have any broken bones. I hope to hear from St. Francis about how she's doing. My imagination sees her getting rehabilitated, released, and soaring once again over the Aucilla River.

Iceland Hotspot

This month my wife, Crystal, is guest writer for my blog. I am using a new format for my photos... the square ones are cropped thumbnails of bigger images. Click on the thumb to see a larger full version of the photo. Here's Crystal's take on another of our Iceland adventures:

Once we rendezvoused with Sue and Jeff, we packed into our Toyota Corolla and headed east to Hveragardi, one of the hottest hot spots in Iceland. Hveragardi's water is too hot and mineralized for heating homes, but somehow it's suitable for heating greenhouses, making this town of 2000 people the farming center for the capital.


Our hotel, Frost and Fire, was our favorite of all the fabulous places we stayed in Iceland. It's intimate and artistic rooms were built on the banks of a cold stream, with steam pouring out of earthen vents throughout the surrounding hills. The proprietors channeled the abundant, free hot water to heat their swimming pool, hot pots and sauna. When we weren't hiking, you know what we were doing.

Hiking in this region was like a walk through a fascinating, heavenly version of hell. Heaven in particular for our geologist, Jeff, who found himself awash in teaching moments. We followed the steam more than the trails, in awe of the Earth's guts oozing up from her steaming, ominous portals.

We climbed a high ridge for expansive views of the mossy hills with Hveragardi off in the distance. Hunkered down happily in the moss, sheltered from the wind, we shared a lunch of Icelandic cheeses and breads. How could we let a little drizzle faze us when we were sitting smack dab atop the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, with the North American and Eurasian continental plates tugging apart from one another in geologic fast-time right beneath these very hills, making for some mighty rumbly goings-on just under the surface of the deceptively firm ground.



The trail led us past amazing geological features: burbling mud pots . . . .boiling hot pots . . . . . vents of steam . . . . .portals of clear blue water, some warm, some extremely hot, surrounded by gorgeous layers of travertine of various thickness – crystalized minerals in textured shades of orange, blue, green, yellow, and red. David went hog-wild with his camera, spanning the thin travertine to get vertical shots of the vents, he fell in once up to his thigh – it shook him up, but lucky for him, and us, it wasn't a boiling one.





A rainy day in the off-season, the only other people we saw all afternoon were a group of silent horseback riders whose bright orange jump-suits amidst the fog and steam added to the surreal ambience. That, and a few sheep ambling along the hillside trail.

We were intrigued by a wide curtain of steam ascending from a valley across a river. We had no trail map, and the trails were unmarked, but two things were clear: the trails did not cross the river, and, we really wanted to find a hot river in which to soak. We decided to go for it. The off-trail moss was deep and wet, soaking our boots – no matter because the river was impossible to cross without getting wet anyhow. Following the steam, we found our spot, after testing many for just the right temperature. But at that very moment, the rain let loose and the wind picked up, and we hesitated, thinking it might be best to high-tail it back before we really got soaked. Thank goodness we came to our senses. We tucked our damp clothes under our backpacks and slithered in. Aaaaah. Sue and I applied mudpacks for the full, high-end spa experience.

The long trek back in the wind and rain almost got us down. In spite of getting our core temperatures warmed up in the river, we were freezing by the time we reached our car. But the hot tubs awaited us back home, and those delicious beds with real foam mattresses and down comforters. Yeah, we managed.