After a strenuous day hiking in the Okefenokee Swamp, we were glad to arrive at Jolly Acres Campground in St George,  a beautiful rural area of South Carolina’s lowcountry. We set up camp, made dinner and went right to bed.The next day started off with a lovely gift from the owner of Jolly Acres.  Arnie was out puttering and hanging with Cracker, the African Grey. Mr. Horne approached him with a plastic bag and presented us with three wonderful homemade sweet sausage. He explained that he has them made by his butcher once a year and keeps them in the freezer to share with campers. What a welcoming gift that was! Even though sausage is not on our normally vegetarian menu, we could not pass up such a treat and planned a great spaghetti feast later that evening.

Jolly Acres has wide expanses of fields that take them seven hours to mow! It is very pleasant here under the tall pines. they have a terrific laundry room, good wi-fi, a cute duck pond and spacious sites. If you are looking for a stopping off place on the snow bird route to Florida, we highly recommend Jolly Acres. We had a very comfortable and pleasant  stop over here.

We had planned to give ourselves a quiet day today before we strike out for the drive to Virginia tomorrow. However, a brochure in the office caught our eye and we thought we would drive over to the Francis Beidler Forest and have a little walk in the Audubon Center. It looked off the beaten path, but only about a 30 minute drive into Harleyville.  We anticipated a nice short afternoon visit to this nature setting and we do love those drives that take us off the beaten path.

Over the river and through the woods we went and finally, after winding through some isolated backwoods roads and past some desolate abandoned homes, we stumbled on the Center.  We were beginning to think that our GPS must be lying to us once again and that nothing of any interest could be located this remotely. We were wrong! Check it out at http://sc.audubon.org or visit them on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/BeidlerForest

Driving down a long gravel road, we finally arrived at the Audubon Center at Beidler Forest. We were pleasantly surprised to arrive at a really nice modern facility here in the lowcountry. It is one of Carolina’s premier natural sites, 1800 acres with 1.75 miles of completely handicapped accessible  boardwalk that winds among ancient cypress trees and takes you deep into the heart of this unique forest. It is a great bargain for a day hike at $10.00 for adults, $8.00 for Seniors, AAA members, Active Duty Military and Vets. The educational component for school children is wonderful for helping local kids understand the beauty and value of where they live. If you visit, be sure to ask about their Guided Bird Walks, Canoe/Kayak trips and Night Walks. This is the largest remaining forest of its kind in the world and we felt so privileged to be able to explore it. Here grows the world’s largest remaining stand of virgin Bald Cypress in the Tupelo Gum swamp.  While it is definitely away from any urban area, it is so worth the trip. GPS leads you right to it, so getting there is easy.

As we opened the door from the reception area and stepped out into the Forest, we were met with melodic songbird calls. A Piliated Woodpecker’s red head was bobbing up and down alongside the boardwalk as he foraged for his lunch. This is his work below.

The first thing that we noticed was how different this place was than the Ockefenokee where we hiked just the day before. This is flooded forest, but much dryer with incredible exposed Cypress knees that look like Druid circles waiting for dusk to worship.

This tree was smiling at us!

Over three hundred species of mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibian and fish call this sanctuary home, so we were eager to get going. We began our walk, trying to be very, very quiet to increase the chances of seeing some of the wildlife. We were alone, the only people on the walk and in awe of how pristine and truly wild this place is. We walked along meandering blackwater streams beneath thousand-year old Bald Cypress trees that we had to crane our heads back to see. They reached towards the heavens straight as rulers becoming a part of a distant tall canopy. We hope that the sound of the breeze through the stillness is something that will stay with us forever.

We had not gone far before we spied this little fellow. He’s about two days old.

And this fellow is a juvenile also, as indicated by the blue tail. He is a skink.

As he matures, he will lose that iridescent blue tail.

Over 70 species, reptiles and amphibians are well represented at Beidler Forest. It is easy to spy dozens of snakes, turtles and lizards from the boardwalk. The only venomous snake regularly seen in this swamp is the Cottonmouth although it is home to Timber and Pygmy Rattlesnakes too. It is unlikely that the casual visitor would spy any Rattlesnakes.  Most of this habitat is too shady to be desirable alligator habitat, but we did see a biggee at Goodson Lake sunning himself along the bank. Today we saw Spotted Turtles and Eastern Box Turtles enjoying the Carolina breeze while  sunning themselves on fallen logs too.

Goodson Lake. You can see the gator on the bank in the distance on the left.

A special treat was sighting a beautiful doe feeding on the vegetation. Later, one of the staff shared with us that she has a fawn with her, but we could not see the baby as it was so well camouflaged.

Equally as fascinating as the wildlife, is the vegetation. Within the Francis Beidler Forest you can find 1,800 acres of old growth cypress-tupelo swamp forest. Nowhere else in the world can you go to experience this habitat. The Center provides a comprehensive list of all of the trees, shrubs, plants and ferns. Merry Christmas, this is a holly tree!

There are over 20 medicinal herbs that grow here too! It was fun to try to find them all. Along the way we came upon the Meeting Tree. What a great way to hold any kind of meeting if you want them to be productive and inspirational too!

A curiosity is the abundance of Cypress knees, those knobby protrusions that spark the imagination. They look like hobbits, cartoon characters, druids. They resemble abstract art, sculpture and form. They make you stop and stare to be sure of what you are looking at. In some areas, you could smell the earthy aroma of mushrooms. We were going to cook spaghetti for dinner, but these mushrooms probably would give us a tummy ache or worse!

This was the only giant cypress tree to fall during Hurricane Hugo. All of the others stood their ground as they have for over 1000 years! As Cypress trees age, they hollow out at their core. The staff built steps so that school children can go see what the interior looks like and what lives in there too! This forest has colonies of bats who like to make the hollowed out trees their home.

By the time we exited the forest we were stunned to realize that we had just walked for over three hours! We went out for a little walk and just kept going! Our spirits were lifted, our souls energized and our knees killing us! Thanks to David, Barbara and Shelly and all of the hard-working staff who support this Non-Profit and make the preservation of this precious place possible. They are welcoming and informative!

As the sign says, “It’s a Swamp Thing!”  Tomorrow the landscape changes and we are on to Fries, Virginia, Great Smokey Mountain National Park to see what Chance Encounters await us there.

A Chance Encounter with a German Craftsman in a Tiny Georgia Town

Main streets in small southern towns are gems. On the surface, they may appear to be run down and bedraggled, but on the inside, they can be something precious. Such is Kingsland, Georgia. Driving through, we saw a storefront that looked more like an opening into a secret garden. There was no real name on this storefront, just a conglomeration of small signs and knickknacks with ornate furniture and antiques peering out at Main Street. The entry was cobbled together with old pane windows and wooden doors and it just beckoned to us. A hand painted sign on barn board gave a tiny warning about shoplifting. to all who enter We parked the truck and headed in to see what we could see.

Inside, it looked like we might have stepped into another world. There was something hanging, stacked and standing everywhere. Dust had settled in layers from the workshop that had no separation from the store itself, giving the space an eerie feeling of stepping back into untouched time. From an adjacent room, a voice with a thick German accent boomed at us, “Hello! Would you like to come in my shop?”  We grinned at each other, knowing that a Chance Encounter in this place is a sure thing!

Eberhard Sopp is 72 and lived in Kingsland, Georgia  since he was 27. He emigrated from Germany with the skills of a fine craftsman working in Fine Antique and wooden furniture restoration. Stuffed into this old building is a couple of million dollars of old traditional pieces that he has lovingly restored along with some of his own more whimsical creations. He shared that he had done work for a number of celebrities (Ted Turner being a notable one) and that he now keeps this shop as a labor of love and at the request of this little home town. They need a storefront to entice people into stopping instead of driving right through. He did say that non one had bought anything in months, there is not a tourist season here and most of the townspeople have no money for anything but necessities. He keeps busy doing restorations for some of the more affluent locals.

Eberhard loves to talk and we were there for quite a little while as he showed us his work. “Have you ever seen a catfish?”, he asked. He picked up a piece of wood painted and hung on a string. If you hold it sideways, it is a fish. Vertically, it becomes a cat. He was very pleased that we found this so clever. He also took great pride in showing us some small tables that he made from Palm Fronds. In the South, after any windstorm, artists pick these up and paint on them like canvases. There is a healthy folk art market for this sort of “found art” and Eberhard does this too. He amuses himself with the whimsy of this sort of creative expression in contrast to the very precise traditional work and finishes of the fine antique restoration he does.

Eberhard told us that he does not go in much for the modern conveniences. He has no cell phone, but still has a rotary phone sitting on his desk. He pointed up on the wall and said, “look, Here is my Facebook Page!” If you look carefully in the photo below, you can see a line of painted faces on a board running across the ceiling of the shop.

He talked a bit about his family. He has kids who don’t want his “stuff”, so his instructions to them are to place all of the big wooden pieces out on the curb when he passes away and have a funeral pyre in front of the shop. That way he can take it with him. HE also talked about his ex-wife who he says passed away three years ago. He indicated that she did not share his enthusiasm for the business, but he does keep a memento to remind him of her.

HE pointed to another of his Palm Frond tables as an example of his wife’s lack of value for his work. He explained with a good-natured chuckle that he was going for a depiction of a mermaid, but she named this piece, Jesus on the Swingset.

This Chance Encounter brightened our day and reminded us that we must never form preconceived notions of who people are based on where they live. After all, who knew that Gepetto lived in Georgia!

 Thanks Eberhard, Be Well! We really enjoyed our Chance Encounter with you.

We arose this morning, the first day of The Crooked Road trip. We had landed in Kingsland, Ga, a pretty little southern town not far from the highway. We are staying for two nights at Country Oaks Campground as a base for exploring the Okefenoke Swamp Park. Like most campgrounds, Country Oaks is dog friendly. We were not, however, allowed to let the dogs have a romp in the field due to the situation identified in this sign

And we thought that gators and snakes were the most dangerous beasts around!

Off in search of an adventure this morning, we left the animals behind in air-conditioned comfort and headed out along the Okefenoke Trail towards Folkston for about 45 miles to visit the park located in the Dixon Memorial Forest. It’s a pretty drive with very little residential neighborhoods to be seen from the road, but there are an amazing amount of Baptist churches. Only Baptist churches mind you; little tiny structures very much in need of paint, locked and quiet on this weekday morning. We could imagine that they rock and roll on Sundays though.  Here is a partial list of the congregations that we passed when we started to write them down:  New Zion, Deliverance, Freewill Rest, Grace Chapel, Zion Sisters, Missionary, Peoples, Winokur, Deliverance News, Trumpet in Zion, Race Pond, Sand Hill and don’t forget Camp Pickaninny. Yup, really. We figured that there was a church on the average of every three miles on the 45 minute drive this am!

We also went through three counties, Ware, Camden and Charlton and crossed creeks with great names that included Horsepen Creek, Temple Creek, Cooner Creek, Little Spanish and Big Spanish and Cutfish Creek. A highlight was also the Beulah Mobile Home Park No Dogs Allowed (all one sentence) with a pit bull tied on the porch of the office out front.

We finally arrived at the O. Swamp Park and we did find a true adventure. You can read more about this amazing place at www.okeswamp.com   if you are interested.

The Okefenoke Swamp is the headwaters for the beautiful Suwannee River. While the Okefenoke Wildlife Refuge is managed by the US Fish and Wildlife Service, the Park itself is a land lease operated by a non-profit. Many of the workers are volunteers who love this particular environment and the creatures who call it home. It is a bargain way to spend a day at only  $14.00 for Seniors and that includes the boardwalk and train ride.

You can ride a train through the perimeter of the swamp, take a boat through a canal that penetrates into the swamp or, for the not-so-faint-of-heart, you can hoof it along the “boardwalk”. We strapped on the hiking boots and headed out, after signing a waiver stating that we understood that no none but our own foolish selves would be responsible for what bit us on this hike. We later learned that gators and snakes routinely climb up onto the walkway to sun themselves.

This hike is a “primitive” hike, meaning that there is no manicured path with roses planted by a gardener with a degree in horticulture. There is no manicured lawn or breezy bench to sit on. What is provided is a very narrow plank boardwalk that rolls and dips and sways in places. Sections of the boardwalk become submerged below the surface of the water, making it no illusion that you are actually walking in the swamp.  Arnie’s boots were soaked within the first 400 feet but mine miraculously stayed dry. My socks got wet where the water went over the boots, but the boots kept my feet dry. (That is because one of us was willing to spring for better gear than the other.) There was a steady drizzle of cool rain which was actually welcome as it kept down the bugs and the evaporation helped to cool us.

Knowing what is in the water is a bit unnerving, but we kept up a steady pace, didn’t stop to make ourselves a target and walked as quietly as possible along this very slippery surface. Our biggest fear was not so much what was watching us pass by, but rather, slipping and going off the path into the murky water. There were no handrails, only a thin line of cord at about knee level to use as a guide.

A reward about half way into the hike was an observation tower that allows you to see 300 plus acres of the Reserve. As we arrived at the tower, we had a Chance Encounter with one of the rangers who inquired whether we had seen the Mama gator on our way in. He went into elaborate details about how she recently gave birth to about 60 young in a nest along the trail. He reported that he had gone looking for her recently and could not see her. Stopping to rest for a moment, he noticed that the boardwalk was moving. It suddenly rose up as Mama bumped him from below to let him know her displeasure. He then described exactly where we could see her on the hike back. He concluded terrorizing us by stating that he used to be “stupider” when he was younger…..I guess he meant going out to look for really dangerous creatures???

Going up the tower was fine, but by the time we got down, we were walking on pretty wobbly knees. And now we knew that the only exit was the way we came. We hustled following the ranger the way he had left, hoping to catch up with him for some peace of mind.No such luck; we came to a dead-end on the boardwalk and realized that he had come and gone by boat. No choice for us but to walk back the way we came and hope that one of us did not have to do a Crocodile Dundee imitation to rescue the other. We were now acutely aware that Mama was around. We used to be “stupider” when we were younger too.

All’s well that ends well. Mama was not to be seen and we completed the primitive hike just in time to pop in on Ranger Sharon who was doing a reptile talk. We needed another creepy crawly fix, so we really enjoyed her wonderful talk on snakes, turtles and toads. Sharon was born and breed in the area and her love of the natural world is evident. She shared stories from her Grandfather’s farm that were very entertaining. We liked the one about the Chicken House Bed and Breakfast. Her Grandmother would come out to gather the eggs from the Chicken House some mornings and find a corn snake with a full tummy of fresh eggs curled up under the sitting hen. Sharon also told about stealing her Grandmother’s embroidered pillow cases to go out and gather corn snakes when she was a kid. Her Grandfather paid her fifty cents for each one she caught and then released them in the hay mow to keep down the rats. Now you might be forming a picture in your mind of a Georgia backwoods farm girl, but not so……..Sharon plays the harp too! Thanks, Sharon for reminding us to respect all creatures and remember that each plays an important role in the ecosystem.

At our age, we tend to keep our athletic antics reasonable and safe. We don’t want the injuries that get in the way of enjoying retirement life. We move a bit slower and a bit more carefully. So, I was a bit surprised the night that Arnie decided to take up high jumping.

It started with a bright idea to keep the dogs contained in the bedroom with us at night. Hana, the Japanese Chin,  tends to wander and, poor limited soul that she is, she gets disoriented and ends up behind the guest bathroom toilet by default. It’s such an undignified place for a dog who looks like she should be on a silk cushion somewhere. But it is her den of choice. She scared the daylights out of me one time when I didn’t know she was there and she bolted out mid-flush. Sort of a horror movie moment when the “Thing” slides up out of the john or out from under the bed.

 The last thing I said before going to bed that night was, “Let’ not forget that gate is there.” Those were prophetic words. It wasn’t very long before Arnie decided he had better double check the  door and make sure he locked it for the night. You can’t be too careful, you know.  

Hopping out of bed and striding right along towards the hall, he hit gate first with his right foot, jamming his big toe into one of the lattice squares. The crash was chilling. Launching forward, he hit the carpet, slid and flipped over, in the process, firmly planting the other big toe in the lattice also. There he was, now flipped on his back, feet in the air with a dog gate stuck on his toes.

From this graceful position he proceeded to moan loudly, “My toes, my toes, my toes! Pull the gate off my toes!” I did a Wonderwoman speed jump out of bed, ran to his assistance and tried to help. Now, just a reminder….toes are pretty crooked little things. Once they are wedged into a small space, they don’t just slip out again easily. In fact, I had to carefully jiggle that gate gently  back and forth to release those two snug little buggers from their trap.

But the tight fit was not nearly the biggest obstacle to this catch and release effort. The biggest obstacle was how hard I was laughing at the sight of my poor husband flat on his back, business flapping in the wind and balancing a dog gate on his two big toes all the while,  pleading for relief. It’s a character flaw, I know, but I cannot help but laugh when something like this happens. I try, but it overtakes my self-control. I just cannot help it. It’s like some involuntary sort of hysteria that overtakes my compassion. Now, don’t take me wrong, I did rush to his assistance and I did extricate Arnie from his predicament quite quickly. But I do feel badly about the laughing. Sort of. I am writing about it because now you are laughing too and that sort of makes it all right. Sort of.

All the noise and commotion scared Hana who, no surprise, ended up planted behind the toilet in the guest room and we were right back where we started. The moral of the story: Let sleeping dogs lie behind the toilet.

This blog is dedicated to a couple of ladies who are lazing around Maderia Beach tonight enjoying a waterside campsite for the weekend. Least you think it is all fun and games, read on.

Roberta Gives Them the Granny Pants Salute

Pulling and backing a camper with a pick up truck can be challenging. There is a very good reason that YouTube has so many instructional videos posted to help the novice. It’s really hard and it takes a  lot of practice. It’s not intuitive. Watching it on a video or reading about it is one thing. Actually sitting in the seat and attempting the feat is quite another.

Arnie and I have had this talk more than once recently. Backing isn’t exactly his forte, but researching it is. In fact, in terms of researching the subject, he is the Steven Hawkins of campers; the theory of all things camper. That’s my husband; hunched over the computer doing a wonderful job of research on how to do it right according to a variety of experts. But, I am pretty sure that Steven Hawkins probably can’t back up a camper……….no disrespect to brilliant scientists in wheelchairs intended.

Let’s skip over backing for now and just talk about pulling the camper on the highway. Yes, let’s start by talking about simply pulling the camper down the road with the truck. It’s all good when you strike out from home for a fun weekend and see that long stretch of road ahead of you. Who could imagine the obstacles that can pop up; road blocks, detours, low overhangs, road construction with pot holes, intimidating 18 wheelers, quick lane changes and the list goes on. My pet peeve is luxury RV’s.

In Florida, luxury RV’s are often a lethal combination of a commercial size vehicle with limited maneuverability and an aging driver whose children are contemplating taking his license away. This is the guy who is dangerous driving to Publix on a Sunday afternoon, but he has no problem strapping on his leg brace that he’s worn since the stroke in 2011 and climbing up into his rig, named Second Childhood, to take a spin. We saw them in droves a couple of weeks ago when we visited Camping World of Tampa. They had their rigs in the service shop for a variety of issues most of which appeared to be as a result of contact with a solid object. Dings and dents, scratches, bumps and bruises to exteriors were all there for the RV doctor to fix before the kids see that there was another accident. As they pulled out, we marveled at the power of prayer.

These are the same fellows who pull up alongside of you on the highway at top speed and blow their ear-splitting air horn at you for some unknown road transgression. That’s the air horn that gives you cardiac arrest when it lifts you right out of your seat on the highway. Just the startle effect from that horn could cause a pile-up! Grumpy Grandpa has road rage and he loves to unleash it when he saddles up his tall horse. Angels have mercy on you if you come anywhere near his personal space racing down the road at 70 MPH. Not to mention that for a brief moment in time he was driving that monster one-handed as he gave you the single digit salute!

But we accept that we have to drive somewhere to get somewhere. And all the tension drifts away in a fog of relaxation when we get to camp, settle in and have that first campfire. It was worth it.

And then the weekend ends and there’s the trip home.

Let me tell you a story about our friends recent trip home from a weekend of camping with their pretty new camper. Roberta and Deb just bought their first camper to spend weekends enjoying the Wild Wood.They have been so excited about going camping, especially over by the beach. They took their new playhouse out for its maiden voyage a couple of weeks ago with all the rush of anticipation  that accompanies a new adventure and a new toy. They loaded dogs, food, blankets, beer………all of the necessities……..and off they went. After a wonderful relaxing weekend over on Madeira Beach, they headed home. Now remember, when you leave home on your trip all is rosy  and you’re in your happy place. The dogs are clean, the laundry smells like Fabreeze, the food is inviting. When you come home, the dogs are full of sand, every stitch of clothing is musty and smokey and the remnants of the food just simply stink like leftovers. Also the beer is gone.

So, Bert and Deb are driving home on Interstate 4, a bit tense from the traffic and the inevitable happens. Just as they arrived at the storage facility to park, unhook and unload their trailer, the heavens opened up in a typical  Florida afternoon torrential downpour. Now, after a trying enough drive on the highway, they have to back that camper into a space that was adequate when they left. That parking space  was cavernous when they departed, but, is now diminished in size due to fresh parking job on the part of the two big boats on either side to them.  There is room, but barely!  Now, Deb, who does the driving, must  squeeze their unit into a barely adequate reserved space, in reverse, in the pouring rain,  without being able to hear Roberta’s directions over the roar of the rain.. Visibility is only what she can catch between the wind-shield wipers flying by on high. Not exactly a Zen moment to be sure. So, Roberta did what any self-respecting mature woman would do in such tense circumstances. She screamed at Deb over the roar of the rain, “I have to pee really bad!” Disappearing between two of those obnoxious luxury RV’s, she dropped her granny pants and let loose a steaming stream right there. Just like a true woods woman. Without regard to convention, she channeled her inner camper and paid proper tribute to the RV’s who routinely run us off the road. Take that you luxury beast!

Now relieved of that pressure, so to speak, the ladies called up  the courage of their fore-bearers to push through the wind and rain, They unhooked the sway bar and did the bump and grind backwards into the space. These are the time that make us women. We resist calling our brothers, husbands or neighbors for help. We push through it ourselves and solve that problem; we climb that mountain.  They are still not quite sure what that loud noise was or how that hole got punched in the bumper of the new truck, and Deb’s foot will heal in a couple of weeks? But they did it. What is important is that they made it home. Most importantly, they made reservations for this weekend to go back again! Like I said, these are the times that make us women.

You go girls,

And Roberta……….you go whenever and wherever you need to. It’s the Wilderness Way.

Note from Barb:

I’ve had a few requests to republish the Mini Bird Blog written from the desk/perch of our dear friend, Cracker the African Gray parrot. As some may remember, he wrote his own blog about a year ago when we traveled down to Curry Hammock State Park on Marathon Key to attend the Florida Bird and Wildlife Festival.

If you’ve ever known an African Gray, you are aware that they approach life from a cautious, suspicious point of view. They are wary by nature and do not dive into any experience without thinking it through and looking at the situation very carefully. Grey’s like their environment to stay stable and secure and their routine to be predictable. They are opinionated to say the least! So, it’s pretty surprising how much Cracker actually likes to go camping. He truly seems to enjoy watching us prepare the gear, get his cage all set up and his food packed. When his special car seat is loaded into the truck for a ride. he chatters all the way to the destination, commenting on the traffic by saying, “Owweee!”, every time a large truck passes us. He wolf whistles at other drivers and constantly checks in with the dogs to make sure that his friends are doing okay. “Hana, Wicca, Wicca, Wicca.”, He repeats their names over and over until they must just be thinking, “Shut up, you are not the boss of me.” He’s like a little brother in the backseat, torturing his sisters on the way to Gramma’s house.

Let me know if you enjoy hearing from Cracker. If you do, we will include more from him and his unique perspective on this year’s trip to Great Smokey National Park.

It’s Me Cracker: Starting the Trip,  Sunday September 21, 2014

Hello,

It’s me, Cracker dictating my thoughts on this trip to my Bird Nerds, Barb and Arnie. For the next week, I will be doing a Mini Bird Blog from the road, talking about camping and exploring the Florida Keys during the annual Florida Keys Birding and Wildlife Festival. While I will be disguised as an African Gray parrot, be not fooled. Those of you who know me,  understand well that I hold a distinctly human perspective.

It will be a couple of hours before we it the road for the Keys and now I need to concentrate on watching Barb and Arnie sweat their butts off loading all of my gear. I’ll just finish my cereal while they work and say good-bye to my bike buddy Ethan. .

           See you when I get back, Ethan!

It’s Me Cracker: Day One

Hello Everyone,

Just wanted to let you know that I arrived at the first stop of my journey safe and sound. Here is the first installation of my Mini Bird Blog  for my Florida Keys Birding and Wildlife Festival trip. Let me just get this cold one open and then you can scroll down to read about the adventure so far.

The first two nights, we are staying in the heart of the Big Cypress Swamp. It’s not for the faint of heart. It’s dusk and I can hear an alligator grumping in the near distance. We are about 30 feet from the edge of the actual swamp itself.  I know what your question is and the answer is,”yes”. Barb has, at a minimum a sense of adventure, but this place borders on a death wish.  I do admit that it has its own beauty, but we are awfully close to the beast too.

We are surrounded by wet prairie with miles of grasses groing in the swampy terrain. This unique and precious place provides important habitat for birds like me. Well, maybe not just like me, since I prefer the comfort of the camper to sleeping in a tree with things that slither about in the night. We are staying at Trail Lakes Campground.  It is the home of the Skunk Ape Research Center. You might ask,”What’s a Skunk Ape?”, as we did when we arrived.

Kelly, the night security guy answered our question. Kelly is a rather rotund fellow who emerged from an ancient sardine size camper to greet us and direct us to our site. He was wearing a big grin and little else. It is, after all, pretty hot here. He did solve the mystery of Skunk Ape though. Kelly told us that the Skunk Ape is the guy behind the counter who checked us in. I guess it is some swamp joke they play on unsuspecting tourist birds who were just migrating through for a couple of nights. If you want to unvarnished truth, go on YouTube and watch some of the “real” videos of the Florida Skunk Ape. You’ll be convinced.

After firing up his 40-year-old ATV, Kelly led us to our site with a great deal of sputtering and a cloud of whatever noxious concoction that thing runs on. With warm Swamp hospitality, he pointed to the site and said, “If you folks need  anything in the night, just yell real loud or shoot off a couple of rounds.”  With that comfort and reassurance, he left and we set up camp. Truth is, he would never hear us and we aren’t gun people, so we were on our own here.

I prefer that  Barb and Arnie  work at a reasonable pace when they’re setting up camp. I don’t like to be hurried. This morning when they were loading the car, Barb disrespected me by making me hurry. I then disrespectfully bit Barb when she forgot to ask me if I was ready to get the car. I slowed her right down to my pace with that little reminder that I am to be respected at all times and that we are on Cracker Time this week. I’m sure it was not the oppressive heat and humidity that  dictated their pace.

The colors of the glades combined with the songs and sounds to make swap magic. This beautiful natural place is a treasure. Tomorrow we explore. Put your head under  your wing and have a good night.

Cracker

It’s Me, Cracker, Swamp Critter

Here I am, a city professional sort of Parrot, transported to the southern Florida swamp at the whim of these humans. They may enjoy an edgy experience in the land of the Skunk Ape, but I’m a stuck-in-my-rut kind of guy who likes his routine.

I was awakened this morning to their exclamations of how beautiful the water and sky are here in Big Cypress National Preserve. All I see is a plethora of very large birds circling overhead who think I am a tasty treat. All I hear is grumpy gators looking for love. What I really worry about is what I cannot see or hear. I know it is out there in the Wild Wood of the swamp. Will

We visited a ranger station and saw some great nature art, had a short boardwalk hike to see…… yippee……. more water and sky! Throw in some birds and a few more gators and it becomes clear that my people are easily amused.

Okay, finally something I can relate to. We are back at camp where they keep the French press for my coffee. Cream and sugar please. I am a bird who appreciates the finer things in life.

Me and my French Press

Tomorrow we head for Kona Kai  to tour the botanical gardens with the resident ethnobiologist. It’s the first lecture of the Bird and Wildlife Festival. Let the festivities begin…yawn.  My people want to learn more about how humans relate to plants. How utterly fascinating for me. I cannot wait to hear the dinner table discussion while they chomp on arugula and herbs. Please send a limo and rescue me from these nerds!

Your Friend and Bird of Paradise, Cracker

It’s Me Cracker: now in the Florida Keys

Can you believe that Barb and Arnie set the alarm for five o’clock AM this morning? They said they had to break camp and hit the road before sunrise to make the first workshop of the Birding Festival. It took two hours to pack up and leave the Skunk Ape Research headquarters (Floridian version of the Bigfoot myth or so the legend goes). If you’ve ever watched the show Swamp People, Trail Lakes Campground was not too far behind. The Nerds considered it an adventure and loved the place.  I considered it slumming even for camping.

It was good to head to civilization again. After a couple of hours on the road, we arrived at Kona Ksi resort where my two Nerds took a tour with the ethnobiologist of the gardens there. I relaxed in the camper because, well….. I couldn’t care less. Unless there is a female African Gray in that gumbo limbo tree, I am staying in this camper with the AC on and the classical music playing. I am a bird of discerning tastes.

We left Kona Kai by noon and pulled into our site at Curry Hammock State Park on Marathon Key. After I was properly attended to and made comfortable, my two Nerds were free to sweat their asses off setting up camp again. I wish I could help, but, again, well………..I couldn’t care less if the camper is level as long as I have ice in my water and fresh grapes.

By the way, I am rather proud to say I’ve learned to help Barb back up the camper by repeatedly asking, “Okay? Okay?”, in her voice. I say it just like she does when Arnie is directing her into the site. I thought it was clever, but she found it quite distracting with the pressure of trying to maneuver a truck and camper backwards into that small space while Arnie provides dyslexic directions. “Geez…I was only trying to help. Okay? Okay, Okay?” Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?  Don’t you think, “Shut up”, is a little harsh?

There is an iridescent green  iguana in the bush right outside the camper’s kitchen window. I think he is a distant relative of mine minus the acute intelligence gifted upon me. Let’s see him try imitating Barb’s voice. He does no tricks and the Nerds think he is cute. I practically speak in tongues and they think I’m annoying.

There are Bird Nerds like Barb and Arnie all over this island counting Peregrine Falcons that are on their annual migration. I freaked the researchers right out by making bird noises they did not recognize. They were looking all over with their binoculars to identify the mystery bird. Pranked! That was worth a good laugh !

We took a ride tonight to see the Key Deer on Big Pine.There are dollar bills stapled on every inch of wall and ceiling space with messages from guests.  There’s enough cash to get a limo to pick me up and take me to a fine hotel instead of spending the week in this dinky little camper. But Arnie left all those dollar bills right there on the wall so I am stuck in paradise for another day listening to my two Nerds pour through books to identify what bird they just saw. What did I do in a previous life to deserve the two of them?

Yours Truly, Cracker

It’s Me Cracker: Hippie Bird of the Keys

Here I am, still coming to you from Marathon Key. I’m getting some sun on my plucked chest. There is a gorgeous female cardinal who’s been hanging around and I think she’s pretty in to me. It’s hard to be sure from behind bars but some girls like the bad boys and I certainly am that.

Our campsite is directly below the balcony with the Peregrine falcon count is going on. The researchers take shifts counting the Falcons as well as any songbirds passing through on their migration to a warmer climates. Barb and Arnie left me in the camper for a while yesterday and I amused myself doing crow calls. Well, I guess that caused quite a stir with the researchers who were trying to locate the Crow responsible for such a persistent call. They finally realized it was me from inside the camper. Pranked again, you bunch of bird nerds! Serves you right for looking at me with binoculars like a bunch of peeping toms! Now they are including me in their volunteer orientation so that my vocal talents don’t throw off their scientific count.

Barb and Arnie had deserted me to go into Key West to see the sights and sounds and have dinner. They said it was interesting to see the old historic Flagler railroad trestle, but how would I know as I was locked in the camper like a naughty two year-old. I wanted to do that famous Duval Crawl with them but they said, no!

Instead of doing the Crawl, they went to, Conch Republic Seafood  on the Marina. They said it was a perfect night to sit by the water for dinner, wander around Mallory Square  and end up at the Hog’s Breath Saloon where the motto is,     “Hog’s Breath is Better than No Breath at all.”.

Mallory Square for sunset is a favorite of locals and tourists alike! I am thinking about setting up a street performers booth. I would like to test out that idea to see if it is viable. Will you help me? There will be a hat out in front of my home at 807 Sunshine Ave. If you like the idea, please put a five dollar bill in. If this offends you, please put money in the hat with your name written on it and I will take you off my mailing list.

Kind regards from the land of the Parrot-Heads, Cracker

Hiking and Bird Watching in Layton State Park

Barb and  Arnie went hiking and bird watching in Layton State Park this morning. My two Bird Nerds and the accompanying nerd herd of birdwatchers rounded a corner and came upon a Vista in Layton State Park this morning. There were a variety of shorebirds including plovers, dowager’s, sandpipers, etc. along with some raptors and frigate birds. Lots to see.

One of the naturalists was kind enough to share his scope so that they could see a Merlin. It was a female. I’m so excited I think I will go pluck myself in private!

The trees on the salt pan are weather worn and shaped like bonsai. No good for me to perch on. One of those raptors would have me for lunch! I stayed behind to help with the Hawkwatch while my two Nerds walked the Layton trail. I did my best to continue to confuse the volunteers with all kinds of bird calls I’ve  picked up.

There is an observation tower that the hikers climbed to get a good view of the canopy. A variety of songbirds are visible from there as they migrate south. Barb and Arnie said it was well worth the climb to see marlins, baltimore orioles, cliff swallows, cave swallows, etc form such a unique vantage point. The two old bats looked tired when they got home though!

They showed me a picture of a bird foraging on the ground. That’s nice, but it’s not really a picture unless I’m in it.

Kind regards from the President of the Mensa Society for Birds, Cracker Poo

It’s Me Cracker: As the Festival Comes to an End

Being a bird myself, it is a bit incomprehensible to me as to how anyone could be bored with birds. I think I am rather fine and I think I make a very good boss for my two Bird nerds. I tell them what to do and they follow instruction pretty well. But, I do admit that the Keys has a fabulous variety of nature to get all tingly about.

I encourage you all to get out there in the Wild Wood and see something amazing today. I am headed out to lounge on the picnic table and watch my two Nerds pack up for the journey home.  The sky is blue, the sea is green and I am gray. All is right with the world.

Cracker, The African Gray, signing out for now

P people

A visit to Georgia to meet our new Grand-Dog has not been a disappointment in any way. Abby is a Boxer rescue who came with an array of issues from her past. She is settling in nicely and winning that place in everyone’s heart formerly occupied by her predecessor, Cayo. One of life’s great ironies is that the excitement of bringing a new dog into our lives is often tempered with the sadness of the missing the one we lost. But something in us dog lovers calls us to fill that empty space once again, even knowing that we will one day say good-bye all too soon. The fact that we bring another dog home despite the reality of their too short lives is perfect proof that the pros of being in right relationship with another being outweighs the cons!

Abby is up to the challenge of making her own mark. She is busy climbing up into empty laps and healing empty hearts with her soft intense gaze. The new dog is the balm that cures the grief and they seems to know it. Glad you are here and part of our family velvet Abby!

While in Georgia, Arnie and I stopped at one of the many roadside stands selling veggies and peaches. It’s a great time of year in Georgia since the Vidalia onions are in season. It’s a short season, so we try to enjoy the moment and use them in as many recipes as possible. On this day, I asked the owner of the produce stand if he had any loose onions since the bag was large and more than I could use up quickly. I explained that we are traveling and can only handle smaller amounts of produce at a time. The owner of the stand, being an affable kind of guy, explained to me that I should really get the whole bag and he would explain to me why. Okay, “I’m game! Tell me why”, I responded.

“Well, because I’m going to tell you how to keep them. I’ll bet you don’t know.” he said, sporting a huge toothless grin. I now knew I was in for one of those precious Chance Encounters that are right there every day if we only recognize them. This gentleman looked to be a hundred years old and I couldn’t wait to unfold this conversation with him.

Eustis reached out his hand and introduced himself. He looked like a black Sharpei. You know, one of those wrinkled dogs. He must have spent a lot of hours in the Videlia fields under the Georgia sun to earn those stripes!  He told me that he knows how to keep Videlia onions for months past the annual seasons’ end and that he would gladly share the secret with me so that I could buy a whole bag. Eustis is very short, a little bent over and looks like he carries the wisdom of the world in his over-sized overall pockets. He had that farmers way about him that characterizes those who are in tune with what the earth gives and how to use it well. He asked, “Do you cook ’em or eat “em raw?” I shared that we often cut them up in salads or made French Onion soup since they are so sweet. He cocked a bushy gray eyebrow, paused and said, “I juss bites ’em like an apple.” A few words and Julia Child was put in her proper place. His eyes sparkled and his face crinkled even more. He was laughing at me about the onion soup.

Here’s what y’all do.” His instructions began in a slow sweet Georgia drawl. “You see those fancy pants y’all got on? You take and cut one leg off real high. Y’all don’t need to be wearing those hot things in this weather no how.”  Evidently, Eustis has never ridden with Arnie in a truck on a long trip with the AC set to Frigid. Thus the reason for long fancy pants on a hot Georgia day. “After you cut that leg off, you get one of those  plastic  tie offs and you tie off the bottom of the leg. Then you drop in an onion. Then you make another tie off and you drop in another onion.. Then you tie it off again, take another onion and you drop that one in.  Just keep doing’ that over and over. It keeps them from gassing off each other. That what makes them turn bad. Like too many people in too small a space. They’s don’t like being crowded. “Understand now, Missy? Y’all want one bag or two?”

I took a whole bag and scuttled to the car before I lost a pant leg. With full intentions of putting Eustis’ folksy advice to use when I got home, I relayed the instructions to Arnie in the car. We are home now, the onions are nearly gone with no need to store them. What I realized is, we really can eat a whole bag of Videlias and keep the fancy pants too. For a moment I was tempted to bite one like an apple. Instead, we had a very nice onion soup with a crouton and cheese instead.

I thoroughly enjoyed the Chance Encounter with a wise man on the side of the road who was willing to share a bit of rural wisdom with me. Thanks, Eustis live long and prosper.

A friend (who shall remain unnamed out of deep respect for our long-standing friendship) called me this morning with a great story of a panicked moment in which she almost achieved Facebook Fame. Now, Facebook Fame is generally not something we all aspire to. Facebook Fame can involve humiliation or some revelation of an intensely personal nature that gets out there in the Wild World and before we know it ……….poof, you’re famous! Such was UNF’s (unnamed Friend’s) almost famous moment today.

Here’s what happened. Evidently, she was exiting the shower when she saw one of those irresistible opportunities that happen to all Cat Ladies. The cat was in such a unique and appealing posture that she had to run quickly for the iPhone to snap a picture before the fickle animal moved.

Now this is a beautiful cat to be sure. She’s actually  a really beautiful cat worthy of many pictures on Facebook. But, as beautiful as UNF’s kitty is, personally, I would not run wet barefoot and naked through the house searching for the ever misplaced iPhone to snap a picture of this cat. While I do understand the impulse to share with the world cute pictures of animals we love, I know what would happen.  I surely would slip, break a hip and that’ s where Arnie would find me; on the floor, wet, naked and screaming to cover me up before the buff, young paramedics get there. Not pretty.

But I digress. UNF found her phone quick and safely and Kitty remained still in the windowsill posing or her picture. UNF snapped the perfect cat shot and quickly uploaded it to Facebook from her handy dandy iPhone.

It was about 15 minutes before she was contacted by a friend from all the way across the country to tell her that in her zeal to share the cat’s portrait with the world, she neglected to notice that the flash bounced off the window catching her own reflection in the mirror behind the cat. Now we have a new meaning of the word flash and this one is spelled FLASH!

Holy Full Frontal Facebook Batman!

All’s well that end’s well. The picture came down as fast as it went up and only two people “Liked” it. We will never know what they liked about it.

Dear UNF, thanks for the Sunday morning laugh!

Calling All Creative’s

We are putting out a call to all of our social media friends and the old-fashioned kind too. Could you put on your creative cap and help us name our new baby? We brought him home yesterday. The yet to be named addition to our family is, of course, the shiny new black Toyota Tacoma truck that will act as our sherpa, llama, suitcase and gypsy cart while we explore the Wild Woods this coming year. Silly as it is, I have a long tradition of naming my vehicles. Sort of like a new puppy, except I don’t need that cool long fancy registration name: just the call name.

There’s a prize for this contest. If you place the winning name on the new truck, I promise to not tell any outrageous stories from our past together for at least a month. Let me tell you a bit about Him and maybe you will help us come up with just the right name.

First of all, he’s big and black. Go ahead and take a moment to swoon girls. He’s a tall stallion of a truck and you have to step up onto the running boards and grab a handle to hoist your bad hip and ample ass up into the saddle. Unless you are considerably younger than we are that is. There is no stick shift. In exchange for that cute little jump seat that makes the whole front seat one continuous sitting area, the designers moved the shift up on to the steering wheel. I feel like I’m in my grandfather’s old Buick. But it was an appealing feature for us, because it  perfectly accommodates our little dog’s car seat right between us where she is always the happiest. This is not the first time I’ve bought a car because it fits the dogs needs.

Here’s another important thing to know as you conjure up a new name for the truck. Tucked away in the manual we found an old service record which names the prior owner. He’s Asian and the phonetic pronunciation of his name is something very close to Wing Ding. I’m not kidding. Even I can’t make that up. We thought that was mildly amusing until we turned on the radio and realized that the music has been completely programmed for contemporary songs with Asian lyrics. Being technologically challenged, we have no idea how to reprogram this. I guess we’ll drive to a bad part of town, find an Asian teenage gang member and ask for some assistance. The youngsters always know how to fix those electronic things. We do need to get it fixed all because that stuff gets into your brain. I dreamt in Chinese last night and got up speaking in tongues this morning. We tell you all this so that you might consider thinking about Asian names for the new truck.

So, folks, Arnie and I look forward to your feedback on this one. Looking forward to hearing from you……….

I was talking with a friend recently about our mutual love of great children’s literature. I can remember my Grandfather reading from a collection of Aesop’s fables to me and I can still feel the excitement of a child’s imagination allowed to explore the magic. I’ve never lost the compulsion to draw analogies between life and literature; thus the renewed obsession with one of my all time favorites: The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame.

As we prepare our camper for a long trip, friends are out hunting for their first vehicle to hit The Open Road in. The fun is in the hunt,  Deb and Bert. Enjoy looking for your new home on the road and we are looking forward to a shared campfire soon.

It is fascinating to hear how, in the story,  Toad describes his first “camper” and I can really relate to his excitement!

” There’s real life for  you, embodied in that little cart. The open road, the dusty highway, the heath, the common, the hedgerows, the rolling downs! Camps, villages, towns, cities! Here to -day, up and off to somewhere else to-morrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement! The whole world before you, and a horizon that’s always changing!  And mind! this is the very finest cart of its sort that wa sever build, without any exception. Com e inside and look a the arrangements. Planned  ’em all myself, I did!”

It was indeed very compact and comfortable. Little sleeping bunks – a little table that folded up against the wall- a cooking-stove, lockers, bookshelves, a bird -cage with a bird in it; and pots, pans, jugs and kettles of every size and variety.”

Most of our friends are a bit puzzled and few are a bit horrified that we will be living in such a small space for so long, but we are undaunted. Toad’s friend Rat declared that he would have none of it and most of our friends are of the same mind.

Toad declares, “I’m not coming, and that’s flat. And I am going to stick to my old river, and live in a hole, and boat, as I’ve always done. And what’ s more, Mole’s going to stick with me and do as I do.”

So, what is the fascination with camping? One notable benefit is sleeping soundly. How often do you hear people complaining about either insomnia or being chronically sleep deprived? Do you ever hear a camper get up and exclaim that they never slept a wink last night ? Why is that?

Researchers at University of Colorado Boulder have found that taking a seven-day respite from the chaos of modern living by unplugging your electrical devices, heading for the hills, and living with only natural light is the antidote for many things, including insomnia. They advise that the next time you are planning a summer vacation, you might consider heading for the wilderness if you want to reset your biological clock and put your body and mind back in synch with the world around you.

It’s long been known that he rising and setting of the sun directly impacts our circadian rhythms. Natural daylight impacts the function of every cell in our bodies. Sunlight dictates when our bodies prepare for sleep and when we prepare for wakefulness. In their study at UCB, researchers found that in our modern world, these strong biological forces are thrown out of whack. During their week in the wilderness, the campers were exposed only to sunlight and the glow of a campfire. All personal electronic devices and any form of artificial light including flashlights were banned for the entire week.  Sleep patterns were reset and that has an impact on overall health.

So sleep tight under the compassionate moon and the watching stars!  See you on the Open Road.

Colors of the Prairie.