A Special Morning Feeling One with the Web of Life in Matlacha

Walking in Unison @Lynne Buchanan

A couple of weeks ago, I had one of the most amazing experiences of my life–the kind that makes me ecstatic to be alive and grateful that the other creatures that inhabit this planet with me are so accepting of my presence.  The day before, I had been photographing the troubled waters of the Caloosahatchee.  I'd stayed over in Fort Myers and decided to take my kayak to Matlacha and see how the waters were faring where the Gulf meets the river.  To my great relief, the water did seem much healthier although there may have been some unwanted algae mixed with the sea grasses.  The winds were very stiff though and it was difficult paddling.  It was pretty wavy too, and I was a little nervous with all my gear.  Then I rounded the corner and found this beautiful sheltered area with more birds than I had ever seen in my life in one place.

Matlacha Menagerie of Birds ©Lynne Buchanan

I watched the birds from a distance, not wanting to disturb them in any way.  I felt if I caused one bird to move by my presence, the magic spell would be broken.  I sat a ways off shore in the middle of the shallow water between the two islands just observing for more than two hours. The birds were oblivious to my existence.  Gradually, I drifted closer, but the birds didn't seem to notice.  They were too busy feeding and working out their own issues.  It was so incredible to observe all these natural behaviors unfiltered.

Feeding and Converging ©Lynne Buchanan

I loved watching the spoonbills open their gigantic beaks and the incoming egrets.  There were little blues, great whites, and immature and adult ibis.  So many species together..

Working out Feeding Together ©Lynne Buchanan

While I sat there listening to their cacophonous sounds and watching them squabble a bit, I couldn't help think that there they were feeding on the same limited resources that we humans do, but they were finding ways to work it all out without killing each other.  I also was so grateful for all the diversity I was witnessing and prayed that what we are doing to the water and the air does not cause more and more species to die off.  This ecosystem was incredible and I was thankful that I was a part of it in my little boat.  I think the birds eventually began to notice I was there, but by the time they figured it out I had been there for so long that I seemed to pose no threat.  I tentative stood up and they didn't care. They even began to fly over my head, when they went from one side and then back to the other.  It was so amazing to feel part of this scene in an included and non-intrusive way.  I almost began to feel like they saw me as another bird, instead of some threatening force that might harm them.  My philosophy is to be an equal part of the web of life, and though I always feel this way I have never felt that other creatures accepted me as such before.

Incoming Ibis ©Lynne Buchanan

More and more ibis kept flying in.

Even a Great Egret Joined the Fun...

Great Egret Landing ©Lynne Buchanan

Every moment something new was happening. All I had to do was be present, pay attention, and appreciate each miracle that unfolded. How birds take off and fly and land is so fascinating. Especially amazing is how they never crash into each other when so many are coming and going all the time, and the ones grazing along the shore are constantly moving as well.  Such amazing synchronized chaos.

Draped Wings ©Lynne Buchanan

Suspended in Flight ©Lynne Buchanan

Ibis In Flight ©Lynne Buchanan

Incoming Formation ©Lynne Buchanan

But there were the quiet birds too.  How I loved the way the Great Blue Herons sat in the treetops meditatively above all the mayhem nearby...

Great Blue Heron Still Life ©Lynne Buchanan

Then I noticed a lone white pelican gliding gracefully on the water in the company of a spoonbill, an egret and a couple of ibis.  The colors of the lone spoonbill were so vibrant in comparison to the pure white of the other birds' feathers.  

White Pelican, Spoonbill, Ibis, and Egret ©Lynne Buchanan

I could have stayed there all day, but I started to realize that I was getting cold...  I had been so enthralled by the spectacle around me that it took a couple of hours before I noticed my fingers and toes were numb.

Mangroves and Oyster Shells, Matlacha ©Lynne Buchanan

Reluctantly I left this special place, with its ecosystem of mangroves, oyster shells, and sea plants still healthy enough to support all these wonderful birds that shared their morning rituals with me.  I left the sheltered area and headed back in the open water towards the park where I had put in.  At one point, the wind was so stiff that I had to get out of my kayak and wade, pulling it behind me in order to make any headway.  The birds need sanctuaries like the one I had visited to thrive, and we owe it to them to keep them pristine.

A River in Trouble–Reflections from my Kayak Trip on the Caloosahatchee River

Dead Boat on a Dead River ©Lynne Buchanan

A week ago, I went to visit John Capece from the Caloosahatchee River Citizens Association before venturing on the Caloosahatchee River.  We discussed the issues facing the river, which made the list of one of the Ten Most Endangered Rivers in the United States in 2006 and is still in dire straits today.  In fact, John has been working to raise awareness of the river's problems for much longer than that.  Though I have learned that the issues common to all Florida Rivers have to do with too much nitrogen and the alteration of flow, John said, "You can blame cities or you can blame agriculture, but it really comes down to too many people."  The too many people issue was clearly evident on the Caloosahatchee as you will see in the images below.  There are farms, groves, and people's over-fertilized lawns abutting the river directly, with no easements and only a few oxbow restoration projects.  Everybody is using the water and dumping into it, either directly or through runoff.  The Caloosahatchee suffers greatly from agricultural run off, waste water issues, and releases of too much freshwater from Lake Okeechobee, instead of allowing the water to go South to the Everglades where it is needed.  This river is a wake up call for all Florida rivers.  No matter how much our government tries to downplay the water issue, Florida rivers and springs are in serious trouble.  I have included a couple of images that show restoration projects and  the potential beauty of this river the hand of man has altered so much.  However, given what I experienced on that river, a lot more is needed than a few more oxbow projects, though they do help a bit.  The water quality of the entire river must be addressed and quickly.  The color of the water was awful and by the end of the day, my eyes were burning and my throat was sore.  

Oxbow Near Alva ©Lynne Buchanan

 

Oxbow Near Horticultural Fields ©Lynne Buchanan

The first Oxbow is soon after the Alva Bridge and in parts there was only a narrow path left through the vegetation.  The second Oxbow is just past the horticultural fields and had houses along it just before the dead end here. The map showed it as having an outlet that has totally filled in with plant life, no doubt related to excess nitrogen levels.  

The photos below are examples of point source pollution along the river.  The first is from horticultural fields and the second is a pipe running through someone's backyard, which has fertilized grass growing right up to the river's edge as well as boats and cars in the yard.  To me, this image confirmed John's statement that people are a big part of the problem too...  I should also mention that the local farmers and citizens who live in this area are not the ones purchasing the flowers.  It is a big business shipping flowers for a profit.

Horticultural Point Source Pollution ©Lynne Buchanan

Living Too Close to the Edge ©Lynne Buchanan

When I kayaked parts of the river, I saw horticultural fields and orange groves growing right down to the river, and in the other sections I drove along, there were fields with cows directly across the road from the water.  More than any river I have been on, this one showed me the dangers of not having easements.

Orange Groves Along the River ©Lynne Buchanan

The net result of so many people engaging toxically with the river was some very sad looking water. This image was made on a little island right by the first oxbow.  Green slime was attacking the twigs, which there weren't very man of, which turns out to be a very bad thing.  Rivers need twigs and leaves in the water for nutrients, but algae and slime decompose them too quickly.   The constitution of this water made me a little nervous about paddling, as you accidentally end up ingesting water that gets on water bottles or on your hands.  By the end of the day, I felt pretty badly.  Hopefully, the effects aren't permanent, but I can tell you I wouldn't want to drink water coming from this river unless someone could guarantee that it had been safely treated though I am not sure I would believe such claims–not necessarily because it can't be done but because I suspect people try to cut corners to save money and they are starting with some pretty sad water.  

Sad Water ©Lynne Buchanan

Olga Water Treatment Plant ©Lynne Buchanan

The image above is of the plant for the last remaining surface water source along the river.  The agencies in Lee County, according to John Capece, want to "shift everyone to groundwater since that eliminates a public relations headache with the water plant closing down each time there is a water quality episode (salinity or algai toxins)."  On this river, I can imagine there would be quite a few closings.  

Matthews Creek Flowing into the Caloosahatchee ©Lynne Buchanan

Grasses with Algae, Matthews Creek ©Lynne Buchanan

In addition to problems with the Caloosahatchee River itself, many creeks that run through farmland carrying more fertilizers and waste products also flow into the river.

Abandoned ©Lynne Buchanan

We and the River are Part of a Web ©Lynne Buchanan

Kayking on the Caloosahatchee left me with such an odd feeling of abandonment and destruction, compared with the usual feeling of peace and alignment I experience.  Boats and buildings along islands dotting the ailing oxbows made me realize that people who once fished and interacted with the river  in a healthier way had moved on, realizing the water was dying or was already dead, while the majority of people who remained were using her irresponsibly.  When I took a hike along the Caloosahatchee Creeks Preserve East on the new trail to the river across from the power plant, I came across this spider web on some branches overhanging the water's edge.  This image spoke so powerfully to me about how we and the river and the riparian landscape are all part of one web. What we do equally impacts the health of the river and our own health.  

Oxbow in Ft. Denaud  ©Lynne Buchanan

Restored Oxbow 24 ©Lynne Buchanan

As I believe it is always important to end on a hopeful note, even when the grounds for hope might be slim, I am ending this blog with some photographs of oxbows that have been not been destroyed and/or have been restored.  The river must once have been beautiful, like all Florida rivers.  This waterway has been over-utilized and cannot be brought back to its original state because too many people own the land around it, but that does not mean that we shouldn't try to improve its water quality and bring it back to the best it can be at this point in time.  We can turn the tide, if we all act together and demand that our political system works to protect our environment and our health before it is too late and all our waterways are irreparably harmed.

Withlacoochee Wonderment

Clouds and Trees Calling Me Home on the River ©Lynne Buchanan

A few days ago, I set off on a short three and a half hour paddle on the Withlacoochee around 3 in the afternoon.  The trees along the quiet riverbanks were majestic and delicate at the same time and there were some incredible backlit clouds.  The way all these elements were converging was dramatic and I knew it would make a great black and white because there were so many shades of gray.

As soon as I got on the river, I knew it was probably a little too fast for me–especially since I was carrying all my expensive gear.  A short ways up from where I put in at the campground and RV park, I could see the remnants of rapids, which would no longer have been much more of a threat if the water was lower.  Photographing was an incredible challenge.  I had to whip out the camera from the dry bag, where I religiously kept it this time in case I tipped, remove the lens cap, focus, and shoot, all the while being aware of exactly how far and fast I was drifting and where all the snags in the river were, as well as the location of any potential trees I was careening backwards towards.  I seriously thought about turning me back and getting off the river, but the clouds and trees in the photograph above kept calling me onwards. 

It dawned on me that this was much like the trajectory of my life of late, and actually that of the planet's as well.  Things are happening so quickly and are threatening to spiral out of control unless we keep orienting ourselves even in the midst of extreme circumstances.  Giving up is not an option, unless we want to be flipped and drown.  Instead of being horrified or frightened and collapsing under the weight of it all, it seemed best to embrace this crazy adventure and make the most of the wild and scenic river.  I had to trust that my paddling skills were way better than I'd previously thought.  Perhaps if I believed in myself, I would survive.

Entering the Maze ©Lynne Buchanan

I was paddling so hard my arms hurt and each time the river narrowed, it became even more difficult to make forward progress.  Periodically, I had to find little spots off the main river where the water was still and just breathe.  This was one of those rest spots.  The reflections were so vivid that it was difficult to see what was actually going on beneath the surface of the water.  I felt like I was entering a maze that might have no way out and paddled very slowly, to make sure I didn't get hung up on a stump or that I didn't run into any of the plentiful spiders.  

Trees Limbs Dancing on the Water ©Lynne Buchanan

Reflections are so interesting.  Sometimes they are crystal clear and logical, while other times they take on a life of their own, evoking a sense of mystery and movement that is irreducible.  The trees above were still, but the speed of the water made them seem to dance and shimmer, showing me visually the Whiteheadian interconnectedness and interdependence of being.  The reflections of the branches were simultaneously solid and fluid, while the leaves were effervescent.  

Evening Serenity on the Withlacoochee ©Lynne Buchanan

This last photograph is my favorite.  The water is still moving quickly; a fish has jumped; the golden light is gently caressing the feathery leaves; the reflections compliment the incredible beauty of the riparian landscape, which has invited me in and is holding me in its magical moment of perfect serenity even though the water is moving just as quickly as when I first entered. (In fact, when I returned the woman who owned the campground told me she'd been worried all afternoon that something would happen to me.) My senses were fully aware of every tree and branch of this spot that I had first visited on my way upriver and had returned to now more confident and attuned.  Any trepidation I had experienced earlier was gone and I was at one with my surroundings.  When this happens in nature, there is nothing more rewarding or regenerating.  I whispered thank you to all the elements and to my own senses for their ability to take it all in.