Thursday 2 May 2013

Florida Road Trip - Part 2

Alligator hunting!  After a flying tour of Miami, we drove further south to Homestead, the gateway city to the Everglades National Park.  This immense area of swamps, coastal forests, steamy mangroves and grasslands covers the entire tip of the Florida peninsula and is home to countless species of bird, mammal and marine life.  Strolling along a meandering boardwalk on day one, just a few feet from the rivers and swamps below and only a few hundred metres from the car park, we were stunned by the abundance of wildlife.  Turtles bobbed around in the water, fish jumped and splashed down in a flash of silver, Anhingas dried their out-stretched wings in the sunshine, Tri-Colored Herons and Ibis' waded in the muddied waters spearing fish and collecting snails and crayfish from the riverbed with their long beaks, and large Osprey circled overhead, flexing their talons in search of their next meal.  Being an avid twitcher, my mum was in her element, sighting species of birds in their dozens that fall under the 'extremely rare' list back in the U.K.  She barely needed her binoculars as everything was just so close (or so large!). 


Then, in the shade of an overhanging Cypress tree, a ripple spread out across the river's surface.  A dark silhouette moved beneath the water.  Two dark, stone-like eyes rose up and sank down again.  The ripple moved and a slow wake began to develop as whatever it was swam effortlessly along beside us.  Then the head appeared.  The two eyes, glossy and black followed by a long snout edged with white teeth.  A few feet behind the head, the rippled armour of its back surfaced and a giant tail propelled it with a slow but powerful beat.  We were looking at eleven or twelve feet of alligator, swimming by just a few metres from where we stood.  A rare sighting, so we thought.  To see such a large, supposedly deadly creature so close to a tranquil, tourist-friendly nature walk could not be normal.  As the day went on, we began to realise that these prehistoric creatures, made up of little more than muscle, armour and teeth, were, literally, everywhere.

Once we'd seen one, they began to appear all over.  Under the boardwalks, slumped on river banks, floating in the middle of lakes, stood by the side of the road, swimming in man made ponds and canals and lurking among the reeds of streams and swamps.  



Away from the visitor centres, car parks and boat ramps, the Everglades is a timeless place.  The seasons come and go, migratory birds arrive each year like clockwork, en route to South America, and dolphins and manatees play in the sparkling waters where the Gulf of Mexico meets the wild Atlantic.  The elusive and endangered Florida Panther lurks in the undergrowth as warm winds carry butterflies and clouds of pollen across the landscape, rippling the tall grasses like waves on a lake.  A heron darts a fish with pinpoint accuracy, a colony of pelicans, maybe fifteen or twenty in number, soar motionless across the sky, and the black and white face of a raccoon scurries along the riverbank as he forages for food before the nearest alligator spots him.


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