Anhinga Trail

Anhinga Trail - The newest print available at MacStonePhoto.com

There are only a few places I've been for bird watching that rival the Everglades' Anhinga Trail. This isn't one of my "secret spots," either. I'm pretty sure every tourist from New York to California knows that in the dry season, this small section of boardwalk and previously-quarried pond offers front row seats to the wading bird and alligator show. As fish are bottle-necked into the deeper waters they stand little chance against the patience and sharp bills of the herons and anhingas which line the banks.

Double-crested cormorant

I normally drive past places like this because of the crowds. It's hard for me to justify making a trip out to the third largest national park in the lower 48 that encompasses 1.5 million acres only to share personal space with strangers. Photographers line the boardwalk trying to keep their tripod legs from getting bumped by passing strollers while large groups of boy scouts, girl scouts, Europeans, Asians, and tour groups make their excitement audible. It's not such a bad thing, though. Sharing, that is. In fact, it's the constant stream of visitors that make this place so unique. 

Pied-billed grebe with a dollar sunfish

The birds are so accustomed to people they have no fear of courting, foraging, or displaying right in front of a lens. Sometimes, it seems that because I'm there with a camera, they put on their best show. 

Green heron

Within 20 minutes of visiting last week I saw great blue herons, woodstorks, purple gallinules, american coots, white ibis, green herons, pied-billed grebes, great egrets, snowy egrets, little blue herons, tri-colored herons, cormorants, and of course, anhingas. Oh and I almost forgot: the black vultures. Probably the least photographed bird at the park, these unloved bottom-feeders of the system will do anything for attention. With unnerving bravado, they bark, grunt, and even steal your lens caps simply out of spite. The vengeful vultures, so upset with their lot in life, have resorted to crime and pillaging. These gothic mongrels of the sky will chew the weather sealing of your car doors and windshield wiper blades while you're away taking pictures of other, more colorful birds. 

Anhinga or "snake bird" in breeding plumage

If you happen to be in South Florida or the Everglades during the dry season, I would say Anhinga Trail is a must-see. While it might not be the ideal place for peaceful solitude, it is the premier spot for close encounters with birds and alligators. Just make sure you park your car at the far end of the lot.

Field Work

Erin Woods, Adam Chasey, and Michelle Robinson with gear before loading up the helicopter.

If Audubon at Tavernier Science Center were a religious organization, our patron saint would be Edward Murphy. Not the goofy king of blockbuster sequels, but the aerospace engineer famous for the phrase “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.” We subscribe to this idiom as a way to cope with all the frustrations of field work. I have found that it’s much easier to blame the cruel and perverse universe for the failed engines, flat tires, lost boat plugs, silent alarm clocks, lightning storms, and the vulnerability of myself, my crew, and all of our equipment than to accept personal responsibility.

In fact, it’s a general rule of thumb that if you are comfortable while working in the Everglades, you’re probably not being very efficient. By the nature of our job, we are required to be constantly wet, overheated, sweaty, and bug-bitten; all during the early hours of sunrise. 

Cotton is certainly not the fabric of my life. Now I wear clothes with embedded bug repellent made from fibers that are SPF 50+ and fast-wicking so I don’t stay wet for more than 10 minutes in the Florida sun. My pants are tear-proof and can be buttoned to three quarter length or zipped off into shorts. My hat has pockets. That’s right, my clothes are complicated. What's worse, is that even my vocabulary has changed. For fear of offending my counterparts I wouldn't dare call a black vulture a buzzard, or a laughing gull a seagull, and the plants growing in the water I now must refer to as submerged aquatic vegetation (SAV). Oh, and I don't take sharp turns anymore, I negotiate them. 

We acknowledge the sacrifices required of getting to spend 10 hours working in one of the most wild places in the country. A few close calls with lightning storms or curious crocodiles seems like a small price to pay. In spite of the tough conditions, we find ways of enjoying ourselves. Recently, I've started a subtle mental terrorism campaign on my coworkers. When dropping them off at their sites, I will start humming or whistling an annoyingly catchy song just loud enough so it gets stuck in their heads for the whole day. I find Chumbawamba's hit single "Tubthumping" a powerful weapon in my arsenal.

Field work, with all its idiosyncrasies is difficult and demanding at times but the rewards are constant and overt. We traverse all kinds of environments and wilderness to get to our sites and I count on the fact that each day will be a new adventure with a new set of challenges. Just to give you an idea of what we go through, or rather, what we get to go through, I have compiled a video of outtakes from the field. Enjoy!

Field Work from Mac Stone on Vimeo.

Fishing (not to be confused with catching)

I can't think of anyone who took the cold snap this winter more personally than Pete Frezza. A widely published National Audubon biologist, the research manager at Tavernier Science Center, and reputable catch and release fly fishing guide, he has nurtured an intimate relationship with the Everglades and South Florida since high school. During the second week in January temperatures reached and sustained an all time low in the Florida Keys and Everglades National Park. The sudden freeze affected local fishing businesses, agricultural industries, and most notably, fish and wildlife within the Florida Bay and Everglades National Park area. For an entire month, dead fish, endangered American Crocodiles, turtles, and manatees continued to wash up on the shores. Although exact numbers are impossible to glean from such a large area, while accounting for variety of species scientists estimate the death toll in the hundreds of millions... Ahhem... That's Hundreds of Millions.

Even larger species of fish like this tarpon could not escape the cold. We found this one washed up

at the boat ramp on the C-111 canal at Manatee Bay. I've never held a fish this big, which would explain the schoolboy smile.

For conservation biologists like Pete Frezza who have spent their lives trying to preserve the fisheries and wildlife of the Bay areas, this event seemed, simply, unfair; especially for such a self destructive catastrophe to come from Mother Nature herself.

Finally, after two dark months of reflection and acceptance, Pete has returned to the Everglades optimistic and yet, patient. I had a chance to go out with him this weekend to scout for pockets of surviving snook and redfish in the backcountry of the Everglades. It would be my first official saltwater fly fishing trip.

Pete and I explored all afternoon boating and pulling through the rivers and clandestine creeks finding small groups of healthy (but not hungry) fish. We spotted a total of 4 redfish and around 30 snook in places Pete had seen completely decimated only one month prior. While no fishes tugged at the end of our lines, we were both excited to see survivors and hopeful for a slow but steady recovery.

Pete Frezza fly fishing in Tarpon Bay

All Access

Florida Bay and the Everglades National Park are huge places. For a novice, without the aid of topographical discontinuity or frequent trail markings, navigating through these areas is extremely difficult. The nondescript cuts and endless chains of mangrove islands help deter most people from venturing out alone. As menacing as the nautical maps may be, plenty of experienced anglers and explorers launch into the canals and blind turns of the backcountry.


Because it’s such a large area, it’s next to impossible for an underfunded park service crew to stay vigilant, especially on the fringes of the Everglades. As an avid trespasser myself, I fully understand the potential payoffs and risks that rest on the other side of an unguarded fence. In fact, many of my favorite images have roots that extend past legal property lines. My body follows my curiosity and my curiosity follows the blind theory that if there’s a fence, then generally speaking, something interesting, something forbidden, and eventually, something irresistible, rests on the other side. For the first time, however, legally, I have carte blanche to one of the most famous wildernesses in the world: Everglades National Park. I have to admit I miss the thrill of delinquency, but while in nature, the absence of adrenaline brings peace of mind, and peace of mind brings clarity, and clarity, for an artist, is a powerful tool.

Working with a reputable organization like Audubon in the Florida Keys parallels to having the golden ticket in Willy Wonka’s factory; instead of a river of chocolate we have endless estuaries, instead of fizzy lifting drinks, we have helicopters. I dug deep to find something that likened to an oompa loompa, but it would have been a stretch. I know it’s a ridiculous simile, but it’s hard not to feel like a kid in a candy shop out here.

Just before Christmas, I was invited to go out with Audubon’s bird crew to monitor and band nesting roseate spoonbills. Since my specific job with the fish crew requires that I be at our sample sites every day, this was an extremely rare opportunity to leave the nets behind and pick up some binoculars.

The spoonbill crew is responsible for finding and tagging nests all throughout the Florida Bay and into the southern tip of the Everglades. Most of the nesting sites have been protected and blocked off to human traffic in order to allow the birds a safe haven for nesting. Knowing that I would be walking through mangroves otherwise forbidden and unfamiliar to the general public was half the fun.

The most productive site for the spoonbills is Sandy Key. In a good season there can be anywhere from 100 to 300 nests. That number doesn’t include the egrets and cormorants who also nest on the island. This year, however, water levels are at an unusual high, which prevents the spoonbills from frequenting their favorite foraging grounds. Additionally burdened with a recent cold snap, spoonbills have a trying winter ahead of them.

Aside from the climate, the offspring face an array of obstacles. On some of the nesting sites, crocodiles and alligators wait patiently below for clumsy fledglings.

Despite the tough conditions, many spoonbills have tried valiantly to propagate the next generation. Sadly, some have failed.

Strangely, other adults in the same colony seem to be unaffected by the peripheral challenges.

Equipped with convex mirrors attached to painter’s poles and extension ladders, we scour the island for nests. Arching and bending beneath the mangroves’ brachial maze, we trip, slip, and slosh through the sediment and whitewashed roots like clumsy tourists. Well, at least that’s how I moved. Karen and Seth, the more experienced mangrove marauders, navigated far more gracefully.

When we found a nest with chicks old enough to receive bands, we set up the ladder and grabbing the largest bird first, we brought them down to the ground. Their blunt beaks were not quite hard enough to cause any discomfort but they had another, much more effective defense tactic. Upon lowering these guys to the ground their first reaction is to pooh everywhere; and not just a little dribble, but with an almost sniper-like accuracy. While extremely unpleasant it’s hard to hold a grudge against a terrified ball of pink feathers. Besides, I’m pretty sure I did the same thing as an infant, minus the accuracy.

Over time Audubon will monitor the birds’ progress and track their movements. This information will give us a better idea of the feeding and breeding habits of these beautiful birds and the legislative steps necessary for ensuring their future.