Mingling with wildlife

Who knew I'd be doing a little original reporting when we drove our rig to Highlands Hammock State Park in the middle of Florida. But here we are in a beautiful place, amid hundreds of oak trees, many, many alligators, and a crazy red cardinal that seems to spend inordinate amounts of time pecking at his reflection by using the side mirrors of our car.

The news? This place was built in the first stimulus package back in the 1930s. The Civilian Conservation Corps employed 3.4 million young men (no women) to work on projects such as developing recreational facilities. More than 49,000 men were enrolled from the state. The CCC was called “Roosevelt's Tree Army, “Colossal College of Calluses and the “Soil Soldiers”.

More than 228,000 days of labor were completed at this camp from June 1934 to December, 1941. The CCC boys built 30 structures including houses, bridges, workshops, restrooms, pavilions, water towers, water lines, a green house, creation hall and a mess hall. They also fought wildfires and cultivated 2,500 varieties of plants for the botanical garden project.

When the young men arrived at the camps (remember this was when there was 25 percent unemployment), the average enrollee weighed 147 pounds and was five foot eight inches tall. They gained, on average, between 20 and 30 pounds during their first year. They were paid $30 a month, $1 a day. $25 was sent home to the family and they kept $5.

Jo and I met an 88-year-old volunteer at the park and, while he had not been a CCC enrollee, he was of the right age. He told us his father had a job back then and he helped him digging ditches so he didn't need to apply for work.

Joe told us the CCC developed 800 state parks throughout the nation. Jo looked through a book of CCC projects because she said she remembers her dad telling her he worked on building a school in Maine during the time. Our volunteer guide said if the school was not listed as a project, it probably meant Jo's dad worked for the Works Project Administration. That was formed to provide work for married men during the Depression.

It must have been tough back then for 18-20 year old single guys to be housed together with little access to the ladies. Prohibition had just ended so you can pretty well bet the $5 they got to keep each week went to smokes and booze. The CCC was run by the military so the young men initially wore World War I surplus uniforms until they got their own green uniforms. They worked 40 hours a week but had to rise at 5:30 each morning for calisthenics. Then it was off to breakfast and everyone boarded buses to take them to the work projects. They were required to dress with tie and clean uniforms for dinner. Lights off flickered at 8:45 pm. And the lights were shut off at 9 pm.

The CCC was disbanded in 1942 and all these guys were then drafted into the military for World War II. Joe told us he was drafted in 1942 and was sent to the Pacific.

Earlier in the day, we went on a hike with Ranger Steve whose job it was to show us the spoor of the park's wildlife. We passed the footprints of deer, boar, snakes, centipedes and other creatures. The most enjoyable part of the two-miles hike was to listen to a city slicker who came with her husband and whom Ranger Steve took unusual delight in informing her of all the things lurking in the wild, waiting to kill you. He spoke about the possibilities of being bitten by a rattlesnake, a cottonmouth, a water moccasin. He described the hell of chigger bites, poison ivy, and other dangerous plants. The poor woman soon realized it was much safer to live in New York City than to stroll in the sun-drenched Florida outback.

Her husband, by the way, kept questioning the ranger about things to do in the park. “I'm willing to spend half a day in this park,” he said, “if there are things to do.” There is much to do in the 9,000 acre park if you are willing to slow down a little and just look.

The next day, Jo and I went on a tram ride which took us past countless alligators – dozens of moms and dads and so many hatchlings that they were just a slithering, crawly bundle.

We found unusual birds, including two owls, a red-backed hawk, a yellow-crested night heron (in the daytime), deer, gopher turtles, armadillo. We didn't see any wild boar which are not native to Florida but which came south with the white man more than 100 years back. They managed to escape and have gone feral. They leave their mark by destroying the underbrush.

After three nights in the park, we rolled south for 50 miles to Lake Okeechobee where we attended a Samboree. This is a get-together of members of the Good Sams RV club of which we are members. We met with the various clubs that make up the Florida Good Sams – 392 motor homes of various sizes and ages.

This group is a little too keen on wearing the multi-colored vests of their various clubs. The vests carry dozens of patches that designate the owner as having attended the various Samborees through the years. Some people seem to get off on collecting these tags. Not me.

We did meet up with a couple who are still RV-ing after being married for 67 years. He was 91 years old and it did make me wonder which road he was taking out of town at the end of the Samboree since I would want to be on a different road.

Birds and Beaches

If you know of anything that surpasses sitting on a quiet beach while birds wheel about, catching their lunch, please write me. 

We're just back from the causeway to Anna Maria Island, on the edge of the Gulf of Mexico,  where we spent three hours watching laughing gulls, a loon, pelicans, great blue herons, egrets, terns and and a lonely sandpiper do what they must do each day to stay alive.

The laughing gulls were the most active - and the louded, of course. One of their flock caught a spiny fish, maybe four inches long. It seemed too large for him to swallow but he spent a long time washing the debris off the fish and positioning it, head down, so it would slide down his throat. In the meantime, his buddies cackled and laughed and tried to separate him from his catch.

He dragged the fish well up on the land and continually flipped it back and forth, presumably trying to tear it into bitesize chunks. But it was a tough little fish. So the gull said, "Here goes" and swallowed it, spines and all. That seemed to settle the arguments among the other gulls so he was left alone for a bit. 

But that fish stuck in his throat and it didn't take long for him to regurgitate it. He worked again and chopping it up without success. His buddied returned to annoy and harrass him, so he chomped down on it and swallowed his catch one more time.

We watched the pelicans as they swooped and slid across the bay, eye down, on a glide path that they would alter in a millisecond if they caught sight of a fish. They immediately contorted and dived in that prehistoric pterodactyl-like way. Up they'd come with the fish in their bills and then they would flip it around so it would head down to their stomachs head first.

A silent loon lingered off-shore, diving and feeding but nevder making the loon sound that we love to hear when they are in the northern states. These birds fly south to Florida for the winter but they are mute while in the south. Their plaintive cry comes only when they are in the lakes of New Hampshire or Maine or Vermont.

If you click on the main picture at the top of the blog, you'll see a much enlarged version. If you click on the loon picture at the top left, that will take you to our photo album of the birds.