I know- a weird title. But that’s exactly what I’m going to tell you about, today.
Joe and I were guests of my sister and her husband in Naples, Florida, in February. The first thing we did when we arrived was rent multi-speed bicycles to pedal miles every day, exploring a myriad of fascinating parks and beaches up and down the Gulf coast.
As we read ‘come-see-us’ brochures one evening, though, a peculiar sort of name caught Joe’s eye.
“Dee, we should drive to Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary! It’s a 13,000-acre preserve not far from Naples by car, and it boasts the largest remaining virgin Bald (because it loses its leaves in winter) Cypress forest in North America. Plus, it has a first rate 2.25 mile-long boardwalk that allows visitors deep access. Imagine what we might see!”
Well. That wonderful name, plus the animal lure, made the suggestion irresistible. The next morning off we went, arriving at 7:00 a.m., their opening time. Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary was tucked away, down an unassuming road in the middle of nowhere. Only one other hiker, a young woman, was there that early, and she started out well ahead of us.
We’d have the swamp to ourselves.
'Gateway to the Everglades,' read the sign. The Blair-Audubon Visitor Center was spacious and welcoming. We paid the ranger $20.00 for two tickets, and followed the beautiful boardwalk deep into the wild. It would eventually deliver us back.
The hike took about two-and-a-half hours. Magnificent 600-year old cypress trees towered above us, many dressed in strangler fig vines. Their buttressed bases consisted of odd protrusions spread out and around them, aptly named knees, which are thought to help these giants anchor themselves in hurricane winds.
We wandered, fascinated, through three distinctly different ecosystems.
The silence was stunning. Try to imagine perfect quiet. I could hear myself breathe. Our rubber soles made no sound on the boardwalk. We talked seldom, and then in whispers.
This forest was lovely. There was a bit of morning fog, an immense gathering of strange trees, a bewilderment of undergrowth- and, everywhere, eyes. We felt them. Oh, so many eyes, curiously watching the watchers. Bear-eyes, for instance. Big deposits of black bear scat might be found on the boardwalk itself, commented the ranger who’d sold us the tickets. Hmmm…
Anyway, after better than half the hike was over, the boardwalk became a little roofed bridge over a large pool of opaque water. (It was the dry season, so water levels were very low, creating this sort of pond.) Reeds and richly green water-lettuce coated part of its surface. The scene was so very beautiful, so- primeval. Weak shafts of sunlight angled down, creating a misty glow.
We stared; Joe pointed. The water lettuce was twitching. Something alive was under it. The lettuce began to travel, oh so slowly, for perhaps ten feet. Suddenly, under it, a huge alligator surfaced, in total silence.
Philosophical, it sank back under water. Lettuce obediently reblanketed the monster’s armored back. Perfectly disguised, it glided slowly, silently, along the thickly reeded edge of the pond stalking a huge egret about seventy feet away. The long-legged, snow-white bird, its back to the alligator, was standing in a couple of feet of shallow water, concentrating on something invisible underneath, just feet in front of its long bill. It leaned forward, never losing sight of its prey.
Two birds were perched in a tree directly over the egret’s head. One, an anhinga, was drying its huge black wings after fishing underwater. The other was a very large redheaded woodpecker. Both watched the unfolding drama without comment.
The lettuced alligator paused. Measured. Plotted. The egret, totally engrossed in its own stalk, had no clue about what was creeping up behind.
We held our breaths, not daring to move a muscle. This was surreal.
The egret held its rock-still position for perhaps three. Long. Minutes. Then, BANG! That deadly bill pierced the water once! Twice! Then it relaxed, and waited. Up floated an enormous frog, cream belly exposed, legs splayed. The force of that first hit had killed it. Its skin was unpierced.
The egret was delighted. It took a drink of water, then moved around on those stilt-legs, getting the kinks out. Eventually it grabbed the enormous frog, struggled to flip it into the correct position, stared cross-eyed at the limp body, and then looked confused. It thought. The frog was unceremoniously dumped back into the water, where it floated patiently. The egret stared at it. Eventually the bird plucked it out again, flipped the froggie to face forward- and, once again, froze.
The egret persisted, though, maneuvering it, with increasing difficulty, into a dozen different positions before finally giving up.
Meanwhile, the garnished alligator had moved very much closer -- closer—any second now-
His meal, sensing disaster, flapped off.
The treed birds squawked and moved up and down their respective branches, wishing they knew how to get the frog up and away quickly.
Eventually both flew away, frogless.
The alligator, though, spotted its consolation prize. It moved in -The frog disappeared. So did the huge beast, without a sound.
The lovely pool shone in weak morning light, revealing nothing.
Clutching the railing we looked at each other, grateful to be high, dry, and human. This was Raw Nature, in full bloom, where nothing is ever wasted.