Watch Out!

I could have called this entry "take care" or "watch your step" or "look!". What I call it doesn't matter. The big idea is really about mindfulness. I was out at Paynes Prairie today trying to FINALLY see the Groove-billed Ani that everyone keeps talking about. (I've been looking for it for weeks now and hadn't seen it). So I'm walking along the trail, watching the tops of the shrubbery, and I happened to look down just in time to avoid stepping in some fresh coyote scat. While I stood and felt thankful for clean shoes, a Red Spotted Purple butterfly stopped by and fed on the scat for a moment, then flew off, leaving the poop to me and the dung beetles.

Red-Spotted Purple and Scat (It's blurry because I was surprised!)

A bit later I got talking with a fellow birder and we walked together in search of the elusive Ani. This guy was traveling all the way from Oregon and REALLY wanted to see the famous bird. We talked and searched as we walked along the grassy path. I happened to look down, and to my shock, I was inches from stepping on this Cottonmouth. I stepped away and warned my fellow birder and we both took a few minutes to marvel at the beautiful snake, at the same time feeling thankful that I had looked down when I did.

Cottonmouth (Don't worry, I was 6 feet away when I took this)

A little after that, I headed to a raised walkway and came inches again from stepping on a Polyphemus Moth that was resting on the boards. I took lots of photos and picked the poor thing up and moved it out of traffic. It seemed old and tired. I imagine it was dying. But I'd hate to have stepped on it.

Moving the Polyphemus Moth

About that time I decided that all of these near misses were a sign that I was not paying attention. From that point on I determined that as I looked for birds, I also needed to watch where I walked. So, I was focused on my feet as I came around the bend and found this alligator crossing the path.

Gator on the Move

Looking down wasn't enough. I needed to be tuned in all around. When I go out photographing with an agenda, I get tunnel vision. But I always realize that it's so much better to just open yourself to the infinite possibilities of what is out there. Slow down, breathe, use all your senses. You'll see a lot more.

I continued on and if I hadn't been watching all around, I would have stepped on this pretty ant hill.

Ants

I would have missed this beetle.

Beetle Escaping into the Grass

And I could have squashed this Wooly Bear Caterpillar.

Watch Out for Wooly Bears!

If I'd been in a hurry, I would have walked right by this Purple Thistle (Cirsium horridulum) and the Whirlabout Skipper blissfully nectaring on it.

Slurrppp!

On the return trip, I got careless and started to hurry again, narrowly avoiding stepping on this moth on the ground. A reminder. Slow down. Look around.

Lucky Moth

I saw this caterpillar on the railing.

And this Tussock Moth Caterpillar on the railing further down the way.

Doesn't it Look Like it Has Antlers?

The Polyphemus Moth was still there, but sitting safely in the leaves away from the path.

Blending In With the Leaves

This Broad Headed Skink was peeking out from under the composting toilet.

There Must Be Good Bugs in There

Oh, and by the way, I did see that sneaky Ani.

Groove-billed Ani (Finally!)

Grackles

Boat Tailed Grackle

I really like grackles, especially the big Boat Tailed variety. Their name is funny and onomatopoeic. Grackles are big and cheeky and gregarious. They chatter and squawk back and forth to each other with their creaky, rusty voices. They make a funny, clucking sound sometimes, and I can't tell if it's vocal, or the sound as they ruffle their feathers. It would be hard for a flock of grackles to sneak up on anyone because they're so noisy. I think they're beautiful, especially the males, with their iridescent black/blue/green feathers and big shiny beaks. The females look like an entirely different bird. They're a light brown and smaller than the males, but their behavior is similar enough that you can see a family resemblance. The males perch on tall reeds or fence posts keep a watchful eye for predators or other males. When danger nears, they cluck and creak out in warning.

Female Grackle foraging

Vigilant Male Grackle 

Grackles are very adaptable and can be found just about anywhere, from the beach to the Prairie to a Walmart parking lot.  I smile when I watch them strutting around like they own the place, wherever that is. When they descend on the bird feeders in our yard I always feel lucky (even though they'll probably eat most of the food) because they are so pretty and funny and I get to watch them up close for a while. But not everyone shares my enthusiasm for grackles. Some people get mad that they eat their bird food and farmers consider them a nuisance. Some crazy people seem to be mortally afraid of them and want to kill them. Others just think they're ugly and noisy. To make matters worse, a group of grackles is known as a "plague". Ogden Nash wrote this poem about grackles:

The Grackle
The Grackle's voice is less than mellow,
His heart is black, his eye is yellow,
He bullies more attractive birds
With hoodlum deeds and vulgar words,
And should a human interfere,
Attacks that human in the rear.
I cannot help but deem the grackle
An ornithological debacle.

I like the rhyme, but couldn't disagree more with Mr. Nash's sentiments. How could he know what's in a grackle's heart? And what bird could be more attractive than grackles, with their lustrous rainbow purples?

Beautiful Bird

The people of Winthrop, Minnesota, on the other hand, love their grackles and celebrate their return with every year with their Grackle Days festival. According to Wikipedia, Winthrop is known as "the grackle city of the world".  Coincidentally, this year's celebration just ended yesterday.

I think that Robert Penn Warren also liked grackles. In this sad, sweet poem about death and loss, it seems to me that he used the color and sound of the grackle as a familiar comfort touchstone. With their regular migration, the grackles seem to represent the constant passage of time and the promise of the return of spring (life). Despite death and loss, time will not stop and life will go on. Seasons change and the grackles will come again. I think this is beautiful and bitter-sweet, like grackles.

Grackles, Goodbye
Black of grackles glints purple as, wheeling in sun-glare,
The flock splays away to pepper the blueness of distance.
Soon they are lost in the tracklessness of air.
I watch them go. I stand in my trance.

Another year gone. In trance of realization,
I remember once seeing a first fall leaf, flame-red, release
Bough-grip, and seek, through gold light of the season's sun,
Black gloss of a mountain pool, and there drift in peace.

Another year gone. And once my mother's hand
Held mine while I kicked the piled yellow leaves on the lawn
And laughed, not knowing some yellow-leaf season I'd stand
And see the hole filled. How they spread their obscene fake lawn.

Who needs the undertaker's sick lie
Flung thus in the teeth of Time, and the earth's spin and tilt?
What kind of fool would promote that kind of lie?
Even sunrise and sunset convict the half-wit of guilt.

Grackles, goodbye! The sky will be vacant and lonely

Till again I hear your horde's rusty creak high above,

Confirming the year's turn and the fact that only, only,

In the name of Death do we learn the true name of Love.

April Fools!

Today I was out in my yard looking for caterpillars. I've been watching a batch of  Pipevine Swallowtail caterpillars grow for about a week now (more on that soon). My bird feeders are in the front yard where the caterpillars live, and when I'm out there, the birds all scatter. The Carolina Wrens always seem to be especially annoyed at me, and I could hear them scolding from the bushes. They have chicks out scavenging now and the family is really hungry! The White Winged Doves watched me warily from the branches of the Ash Trees and I could hear the peeps of Goldfinches from somewhere overhead. They wanted me out of there. Then I heard the call of a Red Shouldered Hawk. Our neighborhood is full of raptors. They like to perch in the pine trees and occasionally pick off unsuspecting doves from our feeder. Several times now I've seen the -poof!- of feathers as they hit their target. They move so fast! The other day I saw a Swallow Tailed Kite over the house, and soon the Mississippi Kites should be back to set up their nests across the street. We get Osprey and Eagles flying over, too. So, basically, I wasn't surprised to hear a hawk call. But as I scanned the pine trees to see where this bird was, maybe to get a good photo, I heard the call again. I was able to hone in on the sound and narrowed it down to the leaves of the Live Oak Tree, where the Blue Jays nest. I'd been tricked again by those rascals! They get me every time. I had a hunch that it was a Blue Jay, but I had to check anyway. "Ha Ha, Made You Look!"  The birding literature says that Blue Jays frequently mimic the calls of hawks, possibly to warn other birds that there are hawks in the area, or possibly to scare other birds away, say, from the bird feeder. I don't know if they actually fake out other birds, but it's a pretty good trick for people. In this case, the joke's on me! Touché, Blue Jay!

Bluejay, The Trickster

Rain Day

I was all set to go on an Alachua Audubon Society sponsored wildflower tour this morning, led by Dr. Dana Griffin, who taught "Local Flora" at the University of Florida for years. I went on his tour last year and it was great. But just as we were meeting and getting ready to start, it began to rain and thunder. Very quickly, my desire to get out and learn more local wildflowers gave way to not wanting to be cold and wet or hit by lightning, so I went home, very disappointed. I'm sure if any brave souls persevered, they learned and saw all sorts of marvelous things, because not long after I got home, the rain let up. Figures. It's hard to make the right call sometimes. The forecast was for rain most of the day, so it was a crap shoot. Oh well. But then my husband and I went on a walk with our dogs, and I noticed that there were a bunch of pretty flowers blooming along the creek near my house, so I decided to take a self-guided walk. I was a good guide. I showed myself lots of new spring blooms, frogs and birds. I tried to focus on the native wildflowers, and ignored the exotics, although it was a little hard. The gaudy pink Oxalis blooms were kind of distracting and the Common Vetch tricked me into taking a photo, but I didn't get hung up. Even though the Duckpond Neighborhood Association and the City beautifully landscaped the creek with appropriate native plants, it is still plagued with invasive exotics that are channeled down the waterway. But still, it is a lovely little creek. I visit it often, especially when I'm looking for tadpoles. Sometimes I've seen River Otters and Raccoons there. Today, I saw mostly squirrels and birds, including the elusive flock of Cedar Waxwings that seem to appear whenever I  can't photograph them. How do they know? It was too cloudy and rainy for butterflies, but it was perfect for snails.

Garden Snail

The flowers that caught my eye in the first place, while I was walking the dogs, were the Oakleaf Fleabane (Erigeron quercifolius). They were blooming all along the creek in such pretty clusters.

Oakleaf Fleabane

I saw a few bright yellow False Dandelions (Pyrrohappis carolinianus). I can always recognize these flowers from the color. They're a particularly bright shade of yellow, not the golden of true Dandelions. A Dandelion gets its name, not because they look like "dandy lions", but from the French, "dent de lion", or "lion's tooth", after the serrated petals that look like teeth. I learned this little fact on last year's tour.

False Dandelion

There were clusters of the most common spring flowers blooming at this time of year: Lyre Leaf Sage (Salvia lyriata) and Toadflax (Linaria canadensis) and Blue Eyed Grass (Sisyrinchium) and Betony (Stachys floridana) in the grass and mixed in among the greenery on the banks. The Betony is especially glorious right now, so pretty and pink.

Lyre Leaf Sage

Lyre Leaf Sage Bed

Toadflax

Blue Eyed Grass Patch

Florida Betony (See the Spider in the background?)

At this time of year, no landscape is without Spiderwort (Tradescantia ohiensis) or Beggar's Tick (Bidens alba). In sunnier weather, there would be bees and probably butterflies nectaring on both, but not today.

Wet Spiderwort

Beggar's Tick

The tiny white flower clusters and interesting seeds of Virginia Pepperweed (Lepidium virginicum) help me recognize this plant. Sometimes called "Poor Man's Pepper", Pepperweed tastes spicy and hot. It is in the same family as watercress. It is also a host plant for Checkered White, Great Southern White and Cabbage White butterflies, so it's a good one to keep around.

Pepperweed

There were hundreds of tiny and lovely wild Geraniums (Geranium carolinianum) peeking out of their foliage, but you have to look carefully to see them. The flowers are very small.

Wild Geranium

A few tufts of Watercress (Nasturtium officianale) were growing along the banks of the creek, and a clusters of Walter's Viburnum (Viburnum obovatum) flowers were opening on the bushes.

Watercress

Walter's Viburnum

The Pickerel Weed (Pontederia cordata) and Green Arrow Arum (Peltandra virginica) were just starting to bloom again after winter. There were just a few plants today, but soon there will be purple and green all along the banks.

Pickerel Weed

Green Arrow Arum

So the day was not lost. I enjoyed my tour. But it's a lot more work guiding myself. I have to look up and identify everything I see. I'll look forward to following and learning from an expert next time.

I Love You to Death

River Trip in Desolation Canyon, Utah

I really like being in wild places. There's nothing like the smell of fresh mountain air, or the silence of the desert or the wet green of the jungle. It's thrilling to step into the new and unknown, where the plants and animals in their natural habitat are the rule and people and all our stuff are the exception. It changes your life when you look out over the red rock formations in Southern Utah, the glaciers of Patagonia, or the spring fed rivers of North Florida. I'm not alone in wanting to get closer to nature. Ecotourism is increasingly popular and now one can easily visit places only dreamed about by past generations. And herein lies the ongoing dilemma. On the one hand, interest in nature supports the creation and sustenance of preserves and parks. When people want to see penguins or elephants or hike a mountain trail, they will pay for the privilege. Visitors pay admission fees which in turn pay for the operation of the parks. Governments support popular parks and preserves. Tourists pour money into the communities that surround parks and preserves in the form of dining, lodging and transportation. Nature lovers buy camping equipment and expensive cameras and binoculars. All these purchases direct money into the connected communities and industries. Ecotourism is arguably good for local economies and gives communities more reason to protect the land, plants and animals. But on the other hand, as the tourist destination thrives, the stress on the protected area increases too. Visitors require basic services such as bathrooms and water. If the site is popular enough, entrepreneurs will rise to the occasion and build hotels, restaurants and gift shops, which encourages even more visitors. Soon there are lines to see the geysers and people crowded around every wild animal for photo ops. The hotel employees and tour guides also need services, such as grocery stores and gas stations. More people and more money lead to more garbage and pollution. As the towns and cities grow, natural areas give way to roads and houses and waste treatment plants. Even if we avoid the tourist towns and stay in remote areas, our mere presence changes the once pristine habitat. We may be careful packing out all that we brought in, but we crush plants and insects as we walk, accidentally (or not) leave trash, and introduce foreign organisms on our clothing and gear. We have an impact.

Cryptobiotic Soil in Desolation Canyon. 

This week I read an alarming article about the declining numbers of Monarch Butterflies in this year's migration from Mexico. The article, by a zoologist here at the University of Florida, talks about several possible causes for the decreased numbers, all of which are related to humans, and a general failure of stewardship. Climate change, pesticide use and loss of habitat are disturbing, but did not surprise me. But what was upsetting was reading that we have disrupted the ecosystem to the point that merely visiting the colonies of butterflies was causing them to die. Logging has gone unchecked in the area, leading to erosion, and the huge numbers of butterfly loving hikers now raise dust clouds when they walk on the dirt paths to the trees where the monarchs winter. The dust clogs the butterfly spiracles (breathing holes), causing them to suffocate. Numbers of visitors are supposed to be limited to protect the monarchs, but demand to see them is trumping the concern for the resource. We are loving them to death. It really should not be surprising.  As we insert ourselves into previously remote places, we are bound to see changes.

This got me thinking about whether or not we can simultaneously sustain wild and natural areas, and at the same time, bring large numbers of visitors to see them. At what point would it be better to visit a zoo or botanic garden, rather than go to the source?  Can we control the flow and impact of people in natural areas by issuing very limited numbers of permits? And would it be best to fence off some vast areas where people can't go at all, so that we don't just foul up everything?  But if we control the numbers of visitors, or don't visit at all, what happens to the lives of the people who have come to depend on the new eco-economy? And who should we limit? I don't want to lose my chance to see the wonders of the world and I'm sure no one else does, either. And is limiting access fair? What about people who are not able bodied? Shouldn't they have access, too? I thought about this a lot as we traveled around Patagonia this fall. I saw the impact on the environment in the form of trash, tour buses full of people and all the connected hotel, food and sewage services, and city growth encroaching into neighboring forests. But without the tourists, would growth have occurred anyway, but without any thought of protecting the penguins or glaciers?  

I know there are parks and eco-lodges that do a really good job of preserving the natural areas that the visitors come to see. But I think that we can't fool ourselves into thinking that it is harmless for us to be there, just because we are being careful. We have an impact. The trick is in keeping that impact small. I still want to see the world, and I feel conflicted about how to do it. I really don't have the answers. 

Bear and Cub, Desolation Canyon, Utah

Betony

Spring weather is really moving into gear now and I was just outside doing a little weeding in our front yard. Actually, there are very few plants that come up in the yard that I pull because I consider them to be pesky weeds. I yank out anything invasive and exotic, like Oxalis (pretty flowers, but spreads like crazy by obnoxious little corms), Ardesia (spreads by pretty berries) and Camphor tree sprouts. I also pull up Bidens (read my blog post to understand why) and Sedge Grass. But mostly what I do is try to contain the exuberance of the native plants that self-seed, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, by doing some creative thinning.

Bumper Crop of Betony

One native plant that is going gangbusters this year is Stachys floridana, otherwise known as Florida Betony or Rattlesnake Weed. When we first moved to Florida and I set out to tame our new yard, I found a huge patch of Betony. It was growing in a patch of ornamental grass and ivy, so I figured it should be pulled out. And when I pulled, I learned why they call it "Rattlesnake Weed". When you pull up a handful of the green stems and leaves, you also get a tangle of white roots, festooned with tubers that resemble a snake's rattle. I wasn't sure what to think of them when I first saw them and was frankly a little creeped out. But later I learned a secret. You can eat them! The tubers are sweet and starchy, with a texture somewhat like a radish and a flavor like jicama. They're delightful!

Betony Roots Tubers and Roots

Stachys floridana is a member of the mint family (Lamiaceae). It has a square stem and hairy, heart shaped opposite leaves with scalloped edges. It flowers in the spring, with dainty pink blossoms in the shape characteristic of the mint and sage family. It was once thought to be a Florida endemic, which means it only occurs in Florida, but has since been found outside of the state. In fact, betony is classified as an invasive exotic in N. Georgia and and is on a watch list for North Carolina and Tennessee. Just another example of what bad things happen when a perfectly good plant is transported outside of its ecosystem.  There are no natural pests or diseases to keep it in check, and soon it takes over and outcompetes native species. In Florida, where it is native, Stachys is still considered a landscape and lawn weed in many places and people spend a lot of money and time trying to get rid of it. I guess that people don't like the way it looks. I feel happy that we have the type of yard and live in the type of neighborhood that it is ok to just let the Betony grow, because I think it's rather pretty and interesting.

Stachys floridana in bloom

So now, while I still thin the Betony when we get too much, I always leave some so I can see the pretty flowers. And I munch as I go. If we're lucky, I can gather enough to toss into a salad.

Life-long Learning

When I was a kid I missed the message that science could be fun. Somehow I came to believe that science was only for nerdy brainiacs, but not for the rest of us. I thought that scientists were born smarter than everyone else. (Meanwhile, I collected butterflies, loved wildflowers and being outside, and had a great time at the Natural History Museum. Those things were fun and I never associated them with science.) My uneasiness with science was reinforced in middle school where I earned my first "C" in a class taught by a grim woman, known for being tough. I remember studying blood types and being unable to poke my own finger with a razor blade. She grabbed my finger, jabbed it hard and sent me away. In high school, our biology class was taught by the football coaches. The class focused on memorizing long lists of terms for multiple choice quizzes and tests and dissecting fetal pigs, frogs, earthworms and grasshoppers. I don't remember anything that I learned from either teacher, except that I hated science. After those two experiences, I spent most of my time in school avoiding anything that looked like a science class and tried instead to fill requirements with the classes that sounded like something that I, as a "non brainiac" could handle. In college, I was able to get by with science classes that were more historical or philosophical than "scientific". I majored in English. I'm glad I did, because I love to read and write, and I love the language. I can still recite the first 18 lines of the Canterbury Tales from memory! But it never felt like the perfect fit.

Along the way, I met and married my husband, who is a really smart and creative person, but is very far from being a "nerdy brainiac". He was not a scientist when we met, but after the first few years we were married, he went back to college and developed an interest in chemistry. He went on to get a Ph.D and is now a professor of Biochemistry and Molecular Biology. I realized from observing him over the years that 1) science is really interesting and cool, and 2) that you don't have to be a brainiac to do it, but you do have to work hard to learn it well, and 3) that I wish I'd figured this out before, because I should have studied entomology or wildlife ecology.

I observe and photograph flowers and butterflies in our Butterfly Garden

Of course, it's not too late. I could go back to college in my 50's, and I may still consider it.  But meanwhile, I've discovered numerous other ways to study. First, there is Informal Education. The Cooperative Extension offers a Master Gardener program that I got involved with when we first moved to Florida. Later, I learned about the Master Naturalist program and have completed the three main courses for that. I attend nature walks, lectures and workshops whenever I can and get my education outside of the formal class setting. As I've learned more, I've gotten the confidence and mastery to able to share my knowledge with others. I volunteer with several organizations where I get to be a naturalist interpreter or teach lessons about nature. I also take photographs of what I see and this has turned into a passion. I spend many hours searching out the perfect photo of a migrating bird, special butterfly or unusual native plant, and follow that up by researching what I've seen. I love just going out and taking the photos, but I've also been able to share my work with parks, nature organizations, friends and family. Some of my photos are even in a nature viewing app! I have a couple of children's books in progress, using my photos and knowledge of local flora and fauna and I hope some day to be able to share them with local organizations.

Insect Trap in our yard--part of the Wildlife Survey

Then, there is Citizen Science! Over the years, I have gotten involved in numerous projects where I can make observations and report my findings to help scientists with their research. I've observed birds, flowers and butterflies. I've offered our yard to scientists studying Zebra Long-wing Butterfly clustering behavior, Mockingbird Nests, and currently, a 3-year Survey of Wildlife in yards with Native Plants. Research dollars are very tight these days and scientists need help from the Citizen Scientists to get out in the field and observe and collect. (Basically, they need people to do the fun stuff while they have to spend their time writing grants and papers!) Next on my list: Native Bee Nest Habitat Project!

Bee Housing (Some of the apartments are already rented!)

What I'm getting at here is that it's not too late to follow your heart and do what you love. If you missed the first chance, follow the next. There are many paths to happiness and fulfillment. You just need to find yours. Or if you can't find a path, make a new one.

Here are some links to Citizen Science and Self Directed Study:

Project Feeder Watch

Mapping the Brain at Eyewire.org

NPR Story about Creating your own education path

Picky, Picky, Picky

I'll come right out and say it. I'm a rule follower. Some of this has to do with my basic fear of getting in trouble, but for the most part, I believe that rules are there for a good reason. This is not to say that I don't have my moments of rebellion. But basically I believe that there is a social compact, a set of guidelines that helps groups of people live together in safety and harmony, looking out for the common good. If there is a line to get to something I need, I will wait my turn. If a sign says "Do Not Enter", I don't enter. When they say to turn off your cell phone at the start of the performance, I do it. I believe that we should drive the speed limit to help avoid accidents on the highway and to keep residential areas safe and walkable. I think that cleaning up trash and recycling is good for everyone. And when I see that people around me are violating this covenant to look out for the common good, I get indignant. My husband teases me all the time that I could play the lead character in John Waters' "Serial Mom", a movie about a suburban housewife who exacts her revenge upon petty rule breakers by murdering them.

Parks and preserves are especially sacred to me. To me, they represent the epitome of the common good. This is shared space, there for the benefit of us all and for preservation of the natural world. It belongs to no one and to everyone.  I was taught at an early age that in parks and protected areas you "leave no sign" and "take nothing but pictures and leave nothing but footprints". Who wouldn't want to respect and protect our shared places? And yet people don't. I get enormously frustrated when I see people abusing that sacred space. Walking off the trail tramples plants and soon creates new trails that encourage people to go where they shouldn't. Sometimes there is danger off of the trail and leaving it can put that person in harm's way. Last year in my duties as a park volunteer, I removed some children from an area where there are large alligators. They told me they thought it was safe because they'd seen other people walk down there. It was not safe at all. People drop litter in pristine areas, oblivious to the pollution and potential harm to wildlife. They approach or feed the wildlife, not realizing or caring that it harms the animals when they lose their fear of humans. And our human diet is not good for them. Visitors pick flowers, collect fruit and seeds, and even animals. The other day I heard a man telling his father about the old days when he had gone into a state park to catch baby alligators. People ride their bikes and bring their dogs on trails where it is marked that they are not allowed. And graffiti and vandalism just make me mad.

I know that speaking up is probably the best thing for the good of the resource. But I don't always want to do it. When I'm not in my volunteer uniform and I'm just there as another visitor, I don't like to remind people to follow the rules. After all, where do I get off telling other people how they are supposed to behave? When I do say something, I seem like the mean lady, the kill joy, the goody-two-shoes-nature-know-it-all. Who wants to be seen like that? I am resentful of these inconsiderate people who put me in this position in the first place. The signs are there--can't they read? Don't they know any better?

Well, maybe not. Probably there are a lot of cases of willful ignorance, but sometimes it really is just a matter of not having seen the sign. A lot of people really just don't know any better. I have worked as an environmental educator and many adults and children know very little about protecting nature. They fear wild animals and insects. They don't see the harm in tossing a piece of trash. They don't always see the value of a vast empty place, like a park. And sometimes they break the rules just to seem cool. So what can I do? Take a big breath, suppress my urge to murder, and do some basic nature educating. They are already in the outdoors, which is a good first step. That shows that they have some level of interest. I can try to share my love of the place so that they can see that it is worth taking care of. I can use the "authority of the resource" to explain how their actions might affect the place and animals they've come to see.

In the words of Senegalese Environmentalist, Baba Dioum, "In the end, we will conserve only what we love, we will love only what we understand, and we will understand only what we are taught."

So, like or not, there's no shirking duty. The future of our natural areas depends on those who can to step up and educate. And if we're successful, there will be more loving eyes and caring hearts out there, ready to help protect and preserve our natural treasures.

Learning to Love Nature

Home, Sweet Home

"Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!"
~John Howard Payne

"There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home..."
~Dorothy Gale

When I travel I get swept up in the newness and otherness of where I am. I love it all--the foods, the sounds, the smells, the architecture, the nature, the language--it's all fabulous and fascinating. And when it's time to leave, I long for just a few days more. It's so hard when the vacation is over! But no matter where I go, when I fly back into Florida, I feel tugs on my heart as I look out of the plane (or car) and see the lakes and trees and ocean. It's so green here! And the water glistens in the sunlight and the sweetgrass waves in the breeze. Florida is a magical and beautiful place, by any standards. Our 6-week trip through Argentina introduced me to exotic natural wonders--waterfalls, tropical birds and butterflies, glaciers and penguins. But the trip home again reminded me that I live in an amazing place. Having been away, I can come home again and see my part of the world with new perspective. As frustrated as I might feel with our local problems such as urban sprawl, water use and pollution, when I compare my home to places I've visited, I see that we have it pretty good here. That is not to say that everything is perfect and pristine, but I've seen so much worse. Flying into Gainesville, you see miles and miles of forest. Our little city is a small speck in a huge swath of green. Flying out of Buenos Aires, it takes 15-20 minutes before you reach the end of the city and finally see countryside. In Iguazu and Patagonia, squatters build willy-nilly at the edges of the city, which is always expanding. There is garbage everywhere I've traveled in South America (with the very notable exception of El Calafate National Park, where you are required to take out all your own trash). Even in the rainforest in the Amazon I saw plastic soda bottles and wrappers on the ground. In Peru, the water is not safe to drink, mainly due to heavy metals from gold mining. The air in Lima is so dirty that it makes your chest hurt to breath.

Building Willy-Nilly in El Calafate

Houses in the Forest in Ushuaia

Garbage in Wildlife Preserve in Buenos Aires

So coming back home to a place where you can drink from the tap and there are solid building codes and good trash pickup and clean air laws makes me grateful for the order we have here. This doesn't diminish the great experience of visiting another country at all, but when I am away from home, sometimes the rose colored glasses that I put on when I travel make me blind to the negative and I forget how nice it is in my own back yard. Especially here in Florida, we are also fortunate to have an an abundance of natural and protected areas, teeming with incredible wildlife that people from other countries flock here to see. Paynes Prairie Preserve State Park matches any wild place that I've visited. And it's mere minutes from my house. I am so lucky to live here. But you don't have to live in Florida to feel this. The important thing is to realize that there is beauty and wonder to be found at home, wherever you live. But sometimes you have to leave to realize what you left behind. In my case, absence did make the heart grow fonder. There's no place like home.

Sunset Over the Plane's Wing--Coming Home to Florida

El Fin del Mundo--Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina

Welcome to Ushuaia

It's fitting that the last leg of our journey through Argentina took us to "Fin del Mundo", or the End of the World. We landed at the airport in the city of Ushuaia, which is often called the southernmost city in the world, located on the Beagle Channel in Tierra del Fuego province in Argentina. Our taxi brought us to our hotel (Las Yamanas), beautifully situated right on the Beagle Channel, about 5 km. from the center of Ushuaia.

Beagle Channel, Right outside our Hotel

The hotel had an odd but interesting diorama in front dedicated to the history of their namesake people, the Yamanas who lived in the region at the time of first European contact, up until recent times. Ushuaia is supposedly a Yamana place name, but I'm not sure if anyone knows what "Ushuaia" means,  because, although there is a dictionary of many words from the Yamana language, it is incomplete and the people themselves have mostly died out. We were told there is only one elderly full blooded Yamana remaining and she lives in Chile. They lived and thrived in this region for thousands of years, despite the cold temperature which remains between 0-9 degrees celsius (32-48 fahrenheit) year round. They were small people, and spent much of the time kneeling in their canoes or in a squatting position, which helped conserve heat. They ate a huge number of calories each day and reportedly had a slightly higher body temperature than our normal. They wore no clothing and stayed warm by covering themselves with animal fat which kept them from losing heat and moisture even though they spent most of their time on the water, either in canoes or swimming and diving for shellfish. During storms they took shelter in the rock alcoves on the shore and small islands.  They were also known for the huge warming fires they built on the beaches. Ferdinand Magellan noted these fires and named the region "Tierra del Fuego" or "Land of Fire" after them.

Las Yamanas Display at our Hotel

The motto of the city is "Ushuaia, fin del mundo, principio de todo" or "Ushuaia, end of the world, beginning of everything", which is apt because we fit as many adventures as we could into 3 days. As I mentioned, our hotel was located right on the Beagle Channel. The first morning I walked out to the edge of the water that we could see from our bedroom. There were seabirds of all sorts within yards of the hotel. Oystercatchers, Gulls, Sandpipers, Cormorants, Ducks, Geese, and something huge which turned out to be a Petrel.

Magellanic Oystercatcher

White-rumped Sandpipers

Southern-Gigant Petrel

I could have spent a week just photographing there. But instead, we booked 2 excursions. The first was a trip to the Pinguinera. We took a van ride out of Ushuaia, through forests and peat bogs, to the large privately owned Estancia Haverton that includes the Penguin Rookery. We went by Zodiac (another first for me) and within 5 minutes we were at the island. There were penguins everywhere! Our guide explained that Penguins had moved to this island about 20 years ago to get away from seals, who eat penguins. They have been safe for all this time, but this year some seals were sighted nearby. Time for penguins to watch out! There were 2 kinds of penguins breeding on the island--Magellanic and Gentoo penguins. The Magellanic penguins dig holes and nest in their burrows. The Gentoo penguins build up nests made of rocks. Both kinds of penguins had chicks and some had just hatched that day. There was also a lone King penguin who was hanging out with the Gentoos. He/she was the only one of their kind, so there would be no chicks this year. No one knew why it was there, but it was a treat to see anyway. In addition to the penguins, there were cormorants, geese and skua gulls. We found a pair of skuas who had just hatched some chicks. They were adorable. Skuas eat penguins and their chicks, so I'm trying to hold onto the adorable picture in my mind, knowing that it will probably get ugly sometime soon. But skuas have to eat, don't they? We spent an hour on the island and it went all too quickly. The company that does the tours limits the number of people on the island every day and they keep people from walking near or touching the birds. It was magical to see them. Penguins are very loud and squawk a lot and are funny to watch when they walk. Also, something I never realized about them is that they fart when they stretch. It was so funny! I loved being there so much and wish I could have spent more time there. It made me want to be a tour guide in Patagonia.

The Pinguinera

Magellanic Penguin and Chick in Burrow

Gentoo Penguins and Chick in Rock Nests

Lone King Penguin

Skua and Chick

The next day we took a sailboat tour to an island preserve ("Isla H") in the Beagle Channel. We hiked around on the island and learned a little about the flora and about the Yamana people who sometimes sought refuge there. We also saw Skuas, Flightless Steamer Ducks and nesting Rock Cormorants. The cormorants built their nests out of mud, plants and guano. Some of the nests were hundreds of years old. Most of the cormorants had chicks, which was very exciting to see. Then we got back on the sailboat and sailed to an island with Sea Lions and King Cormorants. The Sea Lions were huge and very sleepy, so they weren't doing much. The Cormorants had the prettiest blue eyes. There were some Snowy Sheathbills hanging out with the Sea Lions and one of our fellow passengers told us that they eat poo. Nature's little cleaner uppers. A lot of the tourists in Ushuaia were going to or returning from cruises to Antarctica. It was pretty cool to be in a place that was a launching spot for the South Pole. It sounds like a trip worth taking some day, although one couple we talked to said they were very happy to see anything green after a week of ice and ocean. When our sailboat was leaving port, someone said that there was a whale sighting. I didn't see anything, but the South Pole travelers saw lots of whales and every type of penguin. Sigh.

Flightless Steamer Ducks and Chicks

Skua 

Rock Cormorants and Chicks in Nests

Rock Cormorant

Sea Lions and King Cormorants

King Cormorants

Snowy Sheathbills

On our last day, we rented a car and drove to the Tierra del Fuego National Park. It actually took us a few tries to get on the right road. We followed signs that said "National Park" and ended up several times on dead end dirt roads. But we finally got set right and drove there. It's very close to town and we passed a lot of taxis driving people up and dropping them off to hike for the day. We found a nice trail to walk and spent a couple of hours walking along the shore of Lago Roca, back amid the tall Beech trees with their strange galls everywhere. It was really lovely and I kept my eyes open for the elusive Megallanic Woodpecker, but alas, did not see one. I did see orchids, however. They were everywhere and it was beautiful! The trail ended at Chile. There was a sign that announced that it was an international border that should not be crossed. I am a rule follower, so I didn't cross, but someone in our group (I'm not naming names) insisted on eating a banana in Chile. After the hike we drove to another short trail near the Beagle Channel. We saw a red fox in the parking lot. It was a little too used to people and came very close. I got my best photos from inside the car. We also took a short hike to see the Beaver Dams and try to see a beaver. We didn't see any. They are not native to Tierra del Fuego. They were brought down from Canada, along with muskrats, in the 1940's to start up a fur industry. The fur industry didn't take off for whatever reason, but the beavers settled in and started damming up rivers. Now they are gnawing and drowning trees and causing all sorts of damage. I think beavers are cool, but only where they belong. This is just another reminder that organisms outside of their natural ecosystems will have an effect, usually not a good one. It's all connected. Beavers have not been good to Patagonia. There is a trapping program in place in the National Park. Meanwhile, though, there are actually tours in Ushuaia to go see the beavers (Los Castores). I guess when life gives you lemons, you make money with beaver tours.

Beech Galls in the Forest

Palomita Orchid

Yellow Orchid

Palomita Orchids

Tierra del Fuego National Park

Bold Red Fox

Beaver Damage

So we said goodbye to Ushuaia and Patagonia and headed back to Buenos Aires for one more day, and then back to Florida. It was an amazing trip and I am so lucky to have had the opportunity to see these wonderful places. It sounds like we'll have a chance to go back to South America again in the next couple of years, and I can't wait!

Beagle Channel

Click here to see more of my photos from Tierra del Fuego.