“Hope is the thing with feathers.”  — Emily Dickinson

I’m sure my loyal readers – both of them – remember fondly my description of kayaking at Myakka State Park, about three years ago.

Myakka State Park is 14 miles east of Sarasota, Fl. It has many attractions, if you’re into that nature-y kind of stuff. I am. For those that may have missed it, I added that account to the end of this piece. I found myself in Sarasota last week, and couldn’t resist the temptation to revisit the flora and fauna of that locale, which is so different from our beautiful woodlands.

I drove to the park and rented a kayak. The outfitter told me that the river was exceptionally low right then, and past kayakers and canoeists reported that they couldn’t progress even a hundred yards down the river after portaging around the dam.

“But there’s still stuff to see in the lake formed by damming the river,” he said. “On the far shore there are often hogs to see. They’ve been feral since the times of the Spanish. There should be some alligators around, and there are always lots of birds.”

As he helped getting the kayak into the water, he noted numerous dead fish in the inlet. They were hard to miss. I put in right by Gator Gal, the world’s biggest air boat, used for tours of the lake.

The Gator Gal has rows of bench seats to hold dozens of passengers. It’s equipped with a PA system so that the captain can point out the sights. My wife, her brother, and sister-in-law, went out on the boat once when I was kayaking a few years ago.

I’m told the captain pointed at me 100 yards away, and said, “An alligator has a brain the size of a walnut. And anyone that would go out on in alligator filled lake in a kayak doesn’t have one much bigger.” Sorry I missed it. I would have tipped my hat.

Speaking of tipping my hat, on another occasion the big airboat was tying up to the dock. The motor was off, but, to my surprise, they started it, and air from the huge propeller blasted back on me. My hat was indeed tipped. Into the drink. I’d had that fine little cap for 30 years. But it was gone before I could retrieve it.

Last week, Jan. 14, 2018, I’d been hoping for another interesting day of gator watching. But conditions were much changed from what I remembered. I didn’t see 75 alligators up close. I saw about a dozen, only one of which was close. But I did see birds.

In Myakka, I’ve seen eagles, sand hill cranes, anhingas, ibises, ducks, coots, roseate spoonbills, crows, vultures, hawks, ospreys, and pretty little wading birds at the edge of the shore and the water. On this day, I saw carrion eaters, mostly turkey buzzards and black vultures. There were hundreds of them. They were usually on the shore, near the water. They’re big birds. At times they would rise up in very large numbers, for no reason apparent to me.

The sound of all those wings beating the air was dramatic. Each bird provided a little bit of the sound track, but there were a lot of birds. One might think they were rising because I paddled too close, but this would occur if I remained motionless, just watching. They’d circle around for a while, then return to the ground.

The birds were, of course, dining on the dead fish. There were many thousands of dead tilapia, non-native fish that thrived there. And there were hundreds of big, dead carp. There were plenty of fish in the water, and quite an abundance washed up to the edge of the shore. The buffet was plentiful; there was more than enough for everyone.

But, despite the bounty, fights would break out. Wings would spread, the birds would attack each other using their beaks to tear at each other. In a few moments, one bird would seem to prevail, and the other would fly off, to land a few yards off, selecting one of the untended delights, usually opting for a nice big carp over the daintier tilapia.

Of course it smelled. I have a less than acute sense of smell. My trip last week to Myakka was one of those times. It wasn’t exactly a horrible stench, but it was omnipresent, and I welcomed a shower and change of apparel upon my return to the hotel. I’m sure the odor strengthened over the next days. It was 81 degrees and sunny the day I was there.

Behavior of flocks of birds, or schools of fish, or swarms of insects, or herds of mammals is fascinating to me. There seems to be some sort of group intelligence at work. It appears to me that all members of the group will turn simultaneously. In marching, from what I remember from many years ago, a column might turn left at a point, with the front rank turning left, and the next ranks turning left when reaching that same point.

In the behavior I’m trying to describe, all of the group turns left (or right) at the same. I seem to recall that the command given for this maneuver is “by the left flank, march.” In military marching, there is a command voice, giving direction. This is not the same as “column left, march”, in which the first rank turns left, and then the subsequent ranks turn at that point. Direction for “by the … flank” results in the entire columns turning simultaneously.

In flocks, or schools, or swarms, or herds, there is no obvious command voice. On a PBS nature show, the idea was posited that there is an awareness of space between individuals, and that space is maintained somehow, avoiding chaos.

I’ve seen beautiful birds, such as wild flamingos and parrots. In my yard, I’ve seen goldfinches and cardinals and blue jays and mourning doves and chickadees and woodpeckers and hummingbirds. Few would put vultures in the category of beautiful – and yet, they have their own look. They’re working that style. They have a beauty of functionality, and it’s one from which we all benefit.

Robinson Jeffers said it far better in his poem “Vulture.”  To those important feathered friends, I say Salud!

I was disappointed not to have seen lots of alligators from close proximity. Nor did I see any hogs that day. Poor sense of smell or not, I could have done without the fragrance of the rotting dead fish. But yet: I was glad I went.

. . . I went, by myself, on the Myakka River. The state park has a concession that rents canoes, and kayaks. Myakka River State Park is near Sarasota. I told the young guy that rented the kayak to me that I was hoping to see some alligators. He recommended that I make a short, easy portage around the dam not far from the launch site, and paddle the Myakka River, still within the park. I must have seen between 50 and 100 alligators that afternoon. Some were huge, longer than my 13′ kayak. The river in parts was only 20 feet across, and very shallow. It’s weird to see a big gator sunning at the side of the river, and then watch him slip silently into the water as the kayak comes near. As a child, I watched a lot of movies set in Africa. The explorer would always see some big crocodile slide into the water as he approached, and croc would always attack. In the movies, that is. I comforted myself by remembering that Florida lawyers would sue the bejesus out of the Florida Department of State Parks for renting kayaks if the gators were eating snowbirds from Michigan. Still, while such a thought may be soundly logical, watching a big gator come closer when you’re in a very small boat, in a very narrow, very shallow river, does tend to make one clench up. I guess that’s why I do it.