Subtropical adventures
July 29, 2015

Cedar Key . . .

Florida is where our oldest resides; therefore, Florida became our southernmost destination for the summer, and that is where we further exhausted ourselves by trying to keep up - us with him or him with us.

One of our favorite excursions when we visit Darren is Cedar Key, more a commercial fishery than a tourist town, and that suits us just fine.

Cedar Key from the water side.

Atsena Otie . . .

We've enjoyed the area several times, but had never ventured out to the nearest island, Atsena Otie, so we booked a spot on Captain Mike's Island Tours and rectified the omission.  

Crazy that after four or five visits to Cedar Key, we thought that island we gazed at across the water was nothing more than a nesting site for birds; we had no idea that an entire community had thrived on Atsena Otie, only to be mostly wiped out by a hurricane in 1896.  In retrospect, one might think it somewhat unwise to build a factory - for the manufacture of pencils no less - in such a vulnerable place.  As it turned out, the facility along with much of the community was destroyed and a number of the island's residents were killed in that storm.

Nowadays, anyone venturing inland to peruse the ruins and burying ground of those long-ago inhabitants is well-advised to be liberally doused with insect repellent; indeed, it would be next to unbearable to hike in there without it and it wasn't all that great even with it.  The whiny critters are fairly swarming in the hinterlands.

In addition to typical avian sightings already on the trip list like this osprey, we added double-crested cormorant and red-shouldered hawk plus another life bird - a gray kingbird.

As near as I can determine, the island's name is pronounced by completely omitting the "At".

I don't remember seeing this broken-stem motif on a gravestone before.

Very little remains of what was once a thriving community on Atsena Otie.  Darren seems to have located a portion of the ruined pencil factory's foundation.

As beachcombers, we found some nice shells and did a spot of birdwatching.  That added another bird to the trip list: magnificent frigatebird (Darren opined that it was only so-so, so we could leave off the adjective).

The locals have the right idea - motor out to the island, anchor on a sand bar and hang out in the water while enjoying a cold beverage.

Williston Crossings . . .

Our RV park of choice in Williston - okay, the only RV park in Williston - sports fancy-dancy paved sites and touts itself as a resort, but our favorite part of it is the lake in an abandoned quarry.  We spent one of our evenings fishing - not catching - there and just winding down watching birds, turtles and wonderful sunset colors.

Sandhill cranes & agriculture . . .

What a delightful surprise to see small flocks of sandhill cranes in various pastures and fields!

A very common sight on many southern roads are logging trucks hauling felled trees from the ubiquitous pine farms to mills.  Peanuts love the sandy soil and are also a major local crop . . .

. . . but horse farms are the order of the day in Levy County.  Acres and acres of grassy pastures are fenced and cross-fenced for horses, with training facilities, tracks and barns at every juncture.

We were impressed with this farm's logo - four horses, but only two heads.  It turned out the 1890 was the place's street address, not a date as we thought at first.

Some of those pastures support herds of goats instead of horses.

A quarry like no other . . .

It sounded kinda novel and cute - a retired limestone quarry with koi ponds and 50 quaint gardens: so stated the promotional material.  What the place lacks in descriptive prose, it more than compensates for in the reality!

Cedar Lakes Woods & Gardens was conceived by Dr. Ray Webber; the result is a spectacular 20-acre vertical botanical garden through which paths wind over and around ponds and waterfalls.

Our few hours there were wholly insufficient to appreciate the changing scenes at each turn of the trail.  As was the norm during our Williston sojourn, the rains came; while the skies opened up, we were fortunate enough to get under cover of a ramada within the gardens.

 

 

 

Critters of various kinds were to be found here and there within the gardens.

Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings . . .

Not a destination at all, primarily because we didn't even know it existed, the home and farm of Pulitzer prize winning author of The Yearling, Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, showed itself on our radar as we explored back roads, so we opted to take a gander.

The charming rural southern house was not open for tours; however, we were able to wander at will on the grounds and citrus grove and to peer into the interior from the verandas.  Trails were open into the woods; we spent more time exploring the intriguing outbuildings and gardens.

Front porch of the tenant's house.

We got more than a passing acquaintance with the barn - it was our refuge for a substantial time as we once again sheltered during a deluge of epic proportions.  The enforced hiatus gave us the opportunity to read about Rawlings' life: she was a contemporary of and friends with Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald.

The chickens joined us to get out of the rain.

And rain it did!

An orphan? . . .

We were startled during one hike to have a deer fawn come bounding up to us with its tail wagging in exactly the way you would expect from a lonely puppy happy to hear voices. 

Fawns typically take cover and remain still while their mother is away.  This baby's behavior led me to believe it surely must be orphaned.  Although it approached us quickly, it kept a bit of a distance, but always watching and staying near.  It truly appeared anxious to be with us.  I felt sad when we finally had to leave while it watched.

 Payne's prairie, alligators, bison, kite . . .

I don't know who Payne is, but his so-called prairie is pretty impressive.  As we entered the preserve called Payne's Prairie, we first walked through more of the sub-tropical type of ecosystem that is the norm in this country's undeveloped regions. 

As that treed section thinned out, we were amazed to find miles of grassy savannah consisting primarily of water and an amazing array of head-high vegetation.  The only way to access it was via a built-up berm that is kept mowed.

We hiked into the prairie for a couple of miles (keep in mind high heat, high humidity and of all the days to have sunshine, that was it), wondering all the while what we might do to save life and limb should we encounter alligators or bison out there.  Both creatures clearly frequent the swamp and the berm on which we hiked.

Signs at the beginning warn not to try to pass either animal on the trail.  I'm still trying to wrap my head around anyone attempting to squeeze past an alligator or bison there, perhaps saying "Excuse me; I'm just passing through".  As luck would have it, we encountered neither.  There is an observation tower at the end of the trail: there we met another wild critter - a wasp that stung Darren twice as we quickly vacated the premises.

Just prior to that attack, we spotted a new bird for the trip and a life bird for us: swallow-tailed kite - very exciting though short-lived euphoria.

After we disturbed this vulture's roost on the observation platform, he managed to find a rare perch on the prairie.

Besides alligators and bison, we were admonished not to approach "wild" horses.  Dare I excuse my behavior by asserting that he approached me, not the other way around.

Surely a 'gator or two are lurking under that green scum.

Tromping through sub-tropic environment is alien, fascinating and intriguing to this desert rat.  In a few days time, we saw so many bodies of water that I lost all ability to discern one from another.  There is so little dry land between that they seem all to be one.

Birds are camouflaged within the vegetation - one minute you can see them, the next, they disappear.  I shot these photos at Orange Lake, or some other of the myriad wetlands that abound in the region.

Darren thought this bright fungus might be edible; we still don't know.

Modest-sized leaves . . . or shrunken husband and son.

The boys off for an errand.

A favorite shot from back up in Georgia, where I thought it was hot and humid until I got to Florida.

Best business name.