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Summertime. Hot. Humid. Perfect.
Starting early helps maintain a modicum of comfort. Until the sun rises above the tree line. Now it’s like a sauna. With bugs.
Sauntering around in a sweltering swamp is, admittedly, not everyone’s cup of chai. The distant calls of Barred Owls and an overflight of a couple dozen White Ibises help take one’s mind off any discomfort. Our day has begun.
It was early June of this year and the stresses of impending heart surgery and destructive hurricanes were not on our radar. Flowers were blooming, the birds were feeding new chicks, dragonflies lounged among the reeds. We relaxed in each other’s company. Conversation about family, interrupted by the scream of a Limpkin. Breakfast by the lake as the sun put its spotlight on an alligator in the shallows waiting for his own breakfast to swim by.
We still marvel at our good fortune of having this oasis exactly seven minutes and thirty-five seconds away from our house. Amazing.
Return with us now, to those thrilling days of summer in central Florida!
Breakfast bar for ‘gators.
We are constantly surprised at the things a Great Blue Heron will attempt to eat. This one eventually proved too much to swallow. Perhaps the above alligator will find it later.
Trumpet Creeper (Campsis radicans) loves to climb. It’s been known to reach 30 feet and more as it wraps around tall tree limbs. Hummingbirds love the nectar of these blooms. Alas, not today.
Escargot hunter. Limpkins are the only member of their genus. Watching them use their scissor-like bill to extract an Apple Snail from its shell is fascinating.
Camphorweed, Stinkweed, Salt marsh fleabane, Sourbush and Cattle-tongue are a few of the common names of the plant known as Sweetscent (Pluchea odorata). Having crushed the leaves and inhaled, I don’t detect the “sweet” part. At all. Other members of the camphorweed family are even less appealing.
This male Eastern Pondhawk (Erythemis simplicicollis) may appear to be relaxing. If another insect flies by, he’ll become active in a hurry.
Quite the versatile plant, Climbing Hempvine (Mikania scandens) has been used for livestock fodder, cover crops and even medicinally. We love finding it as it is a larval host for the small and lovely Little Metalmark (Calephelis virginiensis) butterfly.
At first glance, some are confused as to what species this bird might be. Female Red-winged Blackbirds can be a challenge.
More often than not, Grassleaf Lettuce (Lactuca graminifolia) looks very scraggly and unkempt. Then you see the flower. Suddenly, the plant transforms into quite the beauty.
Our most common raptor is the Red-shouldered Hawk. Their sharp eyes don’t miss much. Especially lizards and frogs.
A patch of small sky-blue blooms grabbed our attention. As we drew near, the familiar forms of Whitemouth Dayflowers (Commelina erecta) brought our morning to a close.
Yes, our central Florida summers are hot and humid. Yes, we have gnats and mosquitoes. Yes, we have snakes and alligators. Yes, we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Enjoy your search for a natural place and come back for a visit!
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The turn-off is immediately after the bridge. I almost always miss it and have to do a U-turn. One problem is the highway is a shortcut for 18-wheelers heading for Interstate 75, typically from Interstate 4 to the south. The road saves them quite a bit of time as they don’t have to travel to where the two expressways intersect on the edge of Tampa. Early morning commuter traffic in that area is legendary. (The meeting of those two roads is referred to as “malfunction junction“.
Our little two-lane road through the swamp is a straight shot for 50 miles and the big trucks waste no time moving north. In the dark and often foggy pre-dawn, poking along searching for our turn-off can get dicey in a hurry as several behemoth transports traveling at 80+ mph are loathe to brake for small animals and cars who might be in their way. So, now you know my excuse for driving past my target and opting for a safer U-turn.
Now that we are off the highway, we are in a completely different world. Dirt road, dense pine forest on either side, drainage ditches full of water, green palmetto understory. This continues for a couple of miles and gradually evolves into small bayous among oak hammocks. Here there be alligators. The scenery changes again as we are now in pine savanna habitat. Listen as the noted naturalist explorer, William Bartram, describes the exact scene at which we’re now looking (from his journals in the late 1700’s):
“We find ourselves on the entrance of a vast plain which extends west sixty or seventy miles…This plain is mostly a forest of the great long-leaved pine (Pinus palustris), the earth covered with grass, interspersed with an infinite variety of herbaceous plants, and embellished with extensive savannahs, always green, sparkling with ponds of water…”
Our Green Swamp is a very special place. With its incredibly diverse habitat, it attracts an equally diverse population of insects, amphibians, reptiles and mammals. Two of those latter are extremely thankful we are able to enjoy such boundless natural riches.
(Today’s post is from a visit we made to the Green Swamp during the last week of May this year. Our attempt to check on the condition of the area yesterday was thwarted due to flooding of all the access roads from Hurricane Milton May 9-10 last week. It’s okay. The swamp is now doing what swamps do. It collected excess water and will slowly release it into the vast underground limestone aquifer. We’ll return once the process is complete.)
A woody shrub native to the pine forests of the southeast, Tarflower (Bejaria racemosa) gets its common name from sticky flowers which entrap insects. These plants often exceed ten feet in height. They smell nice, too.
An immature male Roseate Skimmer (Orthemis ferruginea) blends nicely with his cattail perch. In a few weeks, his incredible change to lavender and pink will make him a neon sign flashing through the swamp. At which time he’ll be able to catch insects AND attract a potential mate.
Roundpod St. John’s-Wort (Hypericum cistifolium) is one of the five-petal St. John’s-Worts. It usually consists of a single stem with many flowers on top.
Always alert to potential danger, it seems there is a Tufted Titmouse at each new place we decide to explore. That’s just fine with us.
Hooray! A new dragon for us! We appear to be near the southern limit of the range for Amanda’s Pennant (Celithemis amanda). Hopefully, she won’t linger too long at this perch. Astute observers will have already noted why this wouldn’t be a good idea. A Spotted Orbweaver (Neoscona sp.) might think this lovely morsel would be perfect for brunch.
A lovely Eastern Black Swallowtail (Papilio polyxenes ssp. asterius) has no problem navigating the sharp spines of a Nuttall’s Thistle (Cirsium nuttallii).
Gini is of two minds on the small gorgeous bloom of the Showy Milkwort (Asemeia violacea). On the one hand, the flower reminds her of an elephant’s head. She also thinks these plants are very orchid-like. I agree with her on all points.
When the light is right, a Golden-winged Skimmer (Libellula auripennis) can shine as bright as any jewel.
Beautiful green leaves, simple 5-petal flowers, bright yellow and plentiful. What’s not to like about the Pitted Stripeseed (Piriqueta cistoides)?
One of our area’s larger all-dark dragonflies, a male Bar-winged Skimmer (Libellula axilena) perches atop a blooming young pine.
Also known as Sandweed, the Peelbark St. John’s-Wort (Hypericum fasciculatum) offers yet another shade of yellow in the pine forest. We love how this plant always seems to have a profusion of blooms.
Loblolly Bay (Gordonia lasianthus). I like saying the name almost as much as I love looking at this large tree with the big white flowers. A resident of wet areas, pollinators don’t care how you say the name, they really like the nectar offered by these stunning blooms.
A morning in the swamp provides so many benefits. We see, hear and experience so much that nature has to offer. Our spirits are lifted.
Enjoy your search for a natural place and come back for a visit!
We are safe and doing well. Long night with steady winds 70-80 mph with many gusts up to 100. Over 12 inches of rain in less than 12 hours. We never lost power, no damage to house, lost one small tree and wood fence is damaged. Now, cleanup begins. Again. Well, right after coffee.
Back in business soon.
Our very best wishes to you all.
Gini and Wally
Enjoying the wrath of Nature up close and personal so you don’t have to.
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“Withlacoochee”. I like the sound. I really like the river. The name may have evolved from Native American for “crooked river”, an apt description. Florida’s Withlacoochee River bubbles up within the depths of the Green Swamp and winds its way north and west for 140 miles where it empties into the Gulf of Mexico. It is a beautiful waterway.
Near the place where the Withlacoochee begins, Gini and I spend a lot of time exploring. It is quiet. Well, no, it really is not. It is devoid of human-originated noise. The orchestral composition of birds, insects, alligator growls and scolding squirrels – well, that is our kind of music.
We seldom see very many “wild animals” in this wilderness. The soft sand of the backroads tells us who lives here. Raccoon, opossum, white-tailed deer – these are the most common tracks we see. Less frequently found are the paw-prints of coyotes and the rounded image of a bobcat foot. We know the black bear resides within the vast forest but have yet to see one.
So, despite the presence of danger constantly surrounding us, we amble along and are contented with much tamer life forms. On this day in June, we spent time among a riot of color, bountiful bird beauty and incredibly interesting insects.
Normal summer rainfall has helped replenish the aquifer underneath the swamp, produced numerous clear creeks and enhanced the floral beauty we have come to love so much. The world contains much to make us feel depressed or angry. It also offers many natural oases where we may rest in its grace.
There are a half-dozen species of Rhexia in our area and I’m trying to be more diligent about trying to separate them. Not much luck so far. I’m calling this one Pale Meadowbeauty (Rhexia mariana), well, just because I can.
Gini heard it before she saw it. Typical. Soon, the bright red Summer Tanager gave us a glimpse as it chased bugs in the upper story of the tree canopy. Eventually, it hopped out in plain view to serenade us with a lovely loud burble for a moment.
Interesting bug. Interesting plant. A female Blue Dasher (Pachydiplax longipennis) on Bighead Rush (Juncus megacephalus).
Florida lists 30 (!) species of Ludwigia. Several are non-native plants imported for the landscape industry. Many of the natives are quite similar in appearance. Fortunately, this Narrowleaf Primrose-Willow (Ludwigia linearis) is easy to identify and we think it’s quite beautiful.
With lovely lavender arms open wide and a nice white runway, what pollinator could resist visiting the Spurred Butterfly-pea (Centrosema virginianum)?
Another red bird! This time, the abundant Northern Cardinal.
Brown. Orange. Gold. All have been used to describe the color of a Needham’s Skimmer (Libellula needhami). Handsome, no matter what you call it.
The Palamedes Swallowtail (Papilio palamedes) is one of the larger black swallowtails in our area and is fairly common throughout the southeastern U.S.
A few years ago, we were fortunate to find both Yellow Milkwort (Polygala rugelli) and Orange Milkwort (Polygala lutea) within a quarter-mile of each other. Each year since, they have returned to those same spots. The former is endemic to Florida while P. lutea is found in several southeastern states. (Some sources indicate these have now been placed in the genus Senega.)
Winged Loosestrife (Lythrum alatum). The flowers are somewhat small. The leaves remind me of Rosemary. Various references say the blooms are purple, lavender or pink. The bottom line, for me, is this abundant wildflower is simply gorgeous.
Formerly in the genus Gaura, the Southern Beeblossom (Oenothera simulans) has very small blooms which are white early in the season and eventually become more pink. Enjoy them early as they tend to fade as the day progresses.
Gini thinks this Yellow-eyed Grass (Xiris spp.) looks like a tiny flower atop an equally tine pine cone. Who am I to argue?
There are several species of camphorweed in Florida and none are reported to have a wonderful aroma, which some describe as akin to mothballs. This one is the Rosy Camphorweed (Pluchea baccharis). What it lacks in scent it makes up for in lovely pale green foliage and soft pink flowers.
A unique critter. This is a solitary wasp which digs a tunnel where an insect is buried into which an egg is laid. When the baby wasp hatches, it has plenty to eat. Good thing, too, since Mama doesn’t do any parenting after the egg is laid. Great Golden Digger Wasp (Sphex ichneumoneus) on Mohr’s Thoroughwort (Eupatorium mohrii).
The swamp surrounding the “Crooked River” has certainly been a wonderful venue for us to explore. We look forward to many more adventures there. It is truly a place where we can “rest in the grace of the world”.
Enjoy your search for a natural place and come back for a visit!
*The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry https://onbeing.org/poetry/the-peace-of-wild-things/
(We are still experiencing limited opportunities to explore nature. ONE of us, who shall not be named, seems to prefer the ambience of rooms filled with busy technicians, quizzical doctors, equipment with flashing lights/beeps/boops to that of our lovely damp swamp. Due to this hopefully temporary aberration – you will now be forced to view treated to summer reruns.)
(The situation described above is also responsible for our inattention to all of your recent blogs. We apologize and will do our best to catch up as we have a chance.)
“Smell that rain!”
The last week of May this year kicked off our summer, also known as “the wet season”. Gini uttered the above as I had just opened the patio doors to see if our night-blooming Cereus was serious about blooming. Not yet.
I really love our summers. That evening rain meant there would likely be fog early in the morning as we headed away from the suburbs. Our local patch, Tenoroc Fish Management Area, would be bustling with activity. Ibises, Egrets, Herons and Anhingas would be leaving their nightly roosts as they spread out over the area’s several hundred acres and dozen lakes in search of breakfast. As the day progresses, the previous night’s moisture will begin to dissipate, insects will busy themselves with the never-ending task of survival and would-be predators will attempt to interrupt that task, to ensure their own survival.
Migratory birds have, well, migrated. Resident birds are busy with nests, chicks and parenting. New plant growth coincides with newly hatched insect populations. Each step through the grass sends grasshoppers, beetles, moths, spiders, butterflies and other creepy-crawlies scurrying out of our way. The yellow American Lotus dots the lakes. A slice of sky above an open field contains Turkey Vultures, a Red-tailed Hawk, a pair of Sandhill Cranes, a flock of Black-bellied Whistling Ducks and a young American Kestrel attempting to snag a dragonfly.
We made our rounds, lingering at familiar spots hoping to see “something special“. I shall tell you a secret. For us, it is ALL quite special.
As May melts into June, Swallow-tailed Kites have found nesting sites near some water source typically in the tallest tree in the neighborhood. They are incredibly aerobatic and catch insects out of the air, pluck lizards and snakes from treetops and often “eat on the fly”. They will depart for Argentina during the second week of August. Until then, we will enjoy gawking at them all summer long.
Nearly the same color as the dock post, a Twin-spot Skipper (Oligoria maculata) enjoys the early morning sun.
Bright and golden, the female Needham’s Skimmer (Libellula needhami) is a medium-sized dragonfly which is, thankfully, very abundant in our area. The adult male is reddish-orange but we didn’t find one today.
Once again, I am thankful to find a subject with a top speed near my own. This invasive critter is a Ghost Bulimulus (Bulimulus bonariensis), who, along with about a billion of its snail friends have steadily been invading the southeastern United States.
Warm, damp nights mean there will likely be butterflies in the morning attempting to dry their wings. Here’s one! An uncommonly handsome Common Buckeye (Junonia coenia).
She is quiet for now, but about an hour ago, just as the sun appeared above the treetops, a Limpkin chorus provided a screeching wake-up call to all the area residents.
Another one of those small skippers, this time a Clouded Skipper (Lerema accius), remained on the twig for exactly one photo. Poof! Disappeared into the weeds.
Gini still says the Halloween Pennant (Celithemis eponina) reminds her of a piece of golden jewelry. I can’t argue. (Not that I would.) (Ever.) (Under any circumstances.)
Perhaps it is not as colorful as its butterfly cousins, but finding a moth in the daytime is worth documenting. Besides, the Common Tan Wave (Pleuroprucha insulsaria) has a unique beauty all its own.
Throughout the Fish Management Area this year, we have counted eight occupied Osprey nests. The first two images below are the same nest, where an adult is encouraging a youngster to gain some altitude. We watched for awhile as the juvenile exercised its wings but wasn’t quite ready to step off the edge of the nest just yet. Maybe next week. The third photo is a different nest with one adult watching as the two kids yell at us. (Young Osprey have orange eyes which will turn yellow in a couple of months.)
Summer. The scent of rain conjures up immediate memories of riding a bike through puddles, wading in drainage ditches to catch tadpoles, tilting your head back and opening your mouth to get a drink. Gini and I are, of course too old and sophisticated to partake of such childish — oh, stop it. You would too, if you had a chance!
Enjoy your search for a natural place and come back for a visit!
*If you are interested in the science behind the smell of rain, petrichor, here ya go: https://earthsky.org/earth/what-is-smell-of-rain-petrichor/
Our Natural Places 