Abundance

Plant it and they will come. That has been our motto at the Spring Creek Nature Park and butterfly garden. This season we extended an invitation for the maypop or Passiflora incarnata to break out of the borders of the beds and extend its range as far as it could. Soon this beautiful Florida native vine with the large purple/blue flowers was covering most shrubs and ground covers. This week however the landscapers have trimmed it back considerably. I’m speaking of our natural maypop landscaper, the Gulf Fritillary butterfly, Dione vanillae. The Gulf Fritillary butterflies are blanketing this garden, making up the majority of the butterflies now sharing the space with the polydamas, black swallowtail, monarchs, occasional peacock and eastern swallowtail.

We have cared for this space for a little over a year now, an ecotone between the mangrove forest and the pine uplands. We planted native plants indigenous to this area before our development was carved out here. We have left the immediate edge of the mangroves untouched. This practiced has encouraged many of the native ground covers to return providing for many additional host and nectar sources for our winged dancers that we enjoy so much!

Because of their abundance their life cycle is laid out for everyone to see; two butterflies quietly joined and perched inside native vegetation; a tiny, golden egg on a leaf or tendril, caterpillars devouring the leaves, chrysalides that look like dried leaves and emerging Fritillaries. As the cats begin to hatch, wasps come in for their fill to bring back to their own larvae while anoles wait for the right time to take their prey. But despite their predators they have managed to not only survive but flourish in this small native garden. The maypop eventually rebounds with the rain and summer heat and the cycle begins again.

Gulf Fritillary sipping nectar from the wild sage, Lantana involucrata

Boldness

                                                     Whatever you can do

                                                                   Or

                                                      Dream you can do

                                                               Begin it.

                                                     Boldness has genius

                                                   Magic and power in it

                                                                                                  Goethe

A head turn, a shift in weight, a tail twist or expansion, a shoulder roll…I watched closely as the swallow tailed kite, (Elanoides forficatus), spiraled above and around me, defying gravity with such grace and economy of movement, all without flapping its wings. This poetry in motion is always spiraling and adjusting for direction and purpose. Sometimes a bird like this can be inspirational.

One late afternoon, as my husband and I pulled into our neighborhood, once undisturbed pine upland, we were fortunate to observe this bird’s version of an ultimate mind body practice. With its distinctive call attracting our attention, we watched it slowly descend, gliding closer to a bottlebrush shrub pruned to look like a tree. The kite flew, slowly, straight into the tree, dislodging a mourning dove from her nest and grabbed a small chick, six feet off the ground. As it exited the tree, the kite dropped the chick. Still gliding in slow motion, the raptor spiraled around and picked the chick up off the ground. We were both awestruck at its ability to maneuver around the laws of physics in such a graceful way, all without flapping its wings!

While giving tours at the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, surrounded by the tall cypress and slash pines, I often describe these birds to the visitors as birds that eat insects on the wing or pick small amphibians and reptiles off the tree tops. “They don’t hunt like the hawks.” I explain. “Their talons aren’t as large and they go for the smaller prey. To drink they will skim water from the surface of a pond. You will never see them hunt on the ground.” Apparently, there is no limit to the size of the tree, no tree top that is too small and no boundary between earth and sky for this adroit flyer.

Whimzy

Singing Moon of the Carolina Wren

 I feel a kinship with the Native American tradition of naming a month after what becomes plentiful during the period of the moons’ phases. May at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary was the month of the Carolina Wrens, the Cardinals, wildflowers, dewberries, deer flies, dragonflies, mosquitoes, bees and much more. But the explosion of life that connected with me the most was the Carolina Wren. With the exit of our warblers that pass through in late winter and early spring these wrens took center stage under the canopy of the cypress. Their loud voice, “teakettle-teakettle-teakettle” struck a chord in me that encouraged me to sing out, stand proud, feel the beauty, and be grateful for the bounty!

I will never forget the “mobbing” of a juvenile red shouldered hawk as it lighted on a branch at eye level just a few feet off the ground next to a few wrens. As the alarm calls from the wrens sounded, it seemed as if most of the small birds of the Cypress Swamp came out and surrounded this hawk. Their noise level rose to a crescendo that forced the bird to fly off and try unsuccessfully to capture a small bird from the crowd. But these hawks succeed at hunting from above with the element of surprise as their advantage. Missing his prey, he flew to a higher branch where the wren’s behavior followed him. Eventually, he cried out and flew off, hopefully learning a valuable lesson. I also observed that this was a learning opportunity for the fledgling wrens to learn about their predator and how to sound an alarm or listen to the alarm calls of others.

Besides recognizing the number of a species, a moon’s days can also be about the lessons we learn with the ups and downs of blooming and dying. So today at the start of our hurricane season, I will keep my eyes, ears, heart, mind and soul open to the possibilities that the month of June has to offer and say goodbye to the singing moon of the Carolina Wren, forever in my heart.

Standing on the Edge

Stand on the edge of a field with the woods behind you, eyes closed.

Breathe.

Listen.

Open your eyes.

Take in the whole scene…use your panoramic vision. Don’t focus on any one thing. While the beauty of your environment holds you still, notice the birds but don’t focus on them. Before long their flight patterns will come into view…bird highways… as my friend called them. From time to time focus on the way a bird flies. The first flight pattern I learned was the woodpecker. Not good at soaring and in a hurry to get to the next tree, they flap and dip, flap and dip, over and over. Actually, this is how I began my interest in birds, by watching how they moved through the air. For beginning minds in the field this is an excellent place to begin. Classifying bird observations in this way also helps you to remember what you’ve seen more easily.

This past week, as I was giving a school group a tour of Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, we were treated to a scene from the Carolina Wren family. As I practiced my “edge of the field” technique, my panoramic vision took in the bottom edges of the swamp, now my “field”. With the low canopy in the swamp above me, the sounds of their foraging pointed me toward the water. The Carolina Wren fledglings were begging for some attention with assorted calls and tugging at leaves growing on a fallen log. The mother swooped in and fed them, then flew to an adjacent maple branch hanging low beside the dark water. They flew back and forth to be fed but eventually, their exploration on that log seemed to garner some nourishment. What a sight! The children were elated at seeing this family scene, all without the aid of binoculars.

I’ve had so many wonderful moments in this way. Remember. Take in the whole picture. Listen. Stay there for awhile until you notice the patterns and sounds of flight, short or long, simple or complex. The edge is a wonderful place to explore!

Inspiration

Every time I come upon the bald cypress at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, I stand in awe of them. It’s difficult to hold all of their wonder in my head so I just hold them in my heart. Along with the warmer weather the canopy has grown in and as you look up, the branches are full with more than just needles…so many life forms living together! And as I look up, my eyes are brought back down to the action in the water. I wonder if James Cameron received inspiration from these giants for his movie.

Comparatively diminutive and more delicate in nature, the pond cypress swamp is bustling. I know it’s only May but summer is here with all its wet and lightening noise! Walking on a day like this after the rain with pig frogs punctuating the thick air with their loud guttural voice, is like pushing your way through clouds that have fallen and can’t get up. How do birds do it? Well a bird’s got to eat so you can always count on seeing them. This afternoon I saw a family of Mottled Ducks on the edge of the pond cypress swamp behind my house and two molting immature Little Blue Herons, just before a Tricolored Heron flew over my head. I spotted Red Bellied Woodpeckers on a number of oaks before a Downy caught my attention. The insect population has exploded with larvae still in the water and dragon flies on the prowl. I was told that they eat deer flies, which is fine by me!

We are out of the ordinary in our experience for this time of year with wet instead of the dry down but the cypress swamp is still a magical place. The petals from the pond apples are falling on the water…and the white lilies have started to bloom three months early.

So, whatever inspires a mockingbird to sing is happening all the time now.

Swamp Reflection in May

There is an openness to the swamp in winter but with the transitions of spring gone, summer is closing in and I am forced to reorient my field of vision. The canopy comes alive. I look up to see branches heavy with resurrection ferns, bromeliads, lichen, and if you look carefully, even orchids. Nesting is ongoing. The blue gray gnatcatcher's nest made out of lichen has to be the most unique nest I have seen this year. Parent birds from wrens to hawks are feeding their fledglings. Hunger is everywhere and with the mosquitoes forming the base of the food chain, food sources begin to multiply.

Besides mosquitoes, lubbers are out as well as tree frogs, oak toads, wasps, bees and the dreaded deer fly. As I look down at the water, fish are eating mosquito larvae and birds are eating fish. A grackle swoops down to pick up a lubber and the carolina wren is picking insects off the base of the trees where they meet the water, only to serenade me later with that fantastic song of his.

The leafing out of the cypress darkens the swamp and the reflections and sparks of light become more obvious and every sound is enhanced. It feels as though I am being held in a sacred space.

The water looks dark but is clear and beckons me to look closer. As I reflect on my time here this year, I have to voice how appreciative I am for the good fellowship of volunteers, staff, interns and visitors...people open to learning and guiding others how to be a part of this unique ecosystem. What a great time I had!

Learning never ends. Rejoice and thank you all!