River of Grass

                                     Drifting Through a River of Grass

       About 35 miles east of Bonita Springs, Florida, sits the small agricultural community of Immokalee. A population of 20,000 souls includes legions of immigrant labor, who work on the farms in the area to harvest tomatoes, lemons, peppers and cucumbers. The area had first been settled by the Calusa Indians and later the Seminoles and Mikosuki. The name “Immokalee” is Mikosuki for “My Home.” The natives had originally named the area “Gopher’s Ridge.”

         A few miles north of the small-town center lies an ecological treasure. Lake Trafford is a smallish lake that covers 1,500 acres. It teems with largemouth bass, Black Crappies, Bluegill, Red ear sunfish and brown bullheads. Fishermen come from all over the eastern United States, to toss their lines into the rich waters, to harvest all of these species.

        We were visiting the area today for another experience. We had booked a ride on the Lake Trafford Airboats for a tour through the Everglades. We had visited here twice before, for short visits, but hadn’t seen much. Friends told us that you had to take the air boat ride, back into the swamp, to get the full appreciation for the biological and plant life diversity.

        Arriving at 1:00 P.M., we checked into the small wooden headquarters. It looked like a set from the TV series “Green Acres, with hooks and fishing supplies available, along with snacks and beverages for hungry fishermen and guests. We forked over $37 each for the one-hour ride on an airboat. We chatted with the diminutive female proprietor for a bit. A life-long Floridian, she had a drawl as thick as molasses and was exceeding polite, as are most rural Floridians.

         We were early, so we sat on the deck, above the boat docks,  and basked in the noon-day sun of a 68-degree glorious Florida winter day. A few other guests drifted in and were amused by cages of exotic parrots screeching out front. A large python lay coiled in another cage. Twenty minutes later, we saw the first of the airboat craft returning to the dock. It is a metal, flat bottom skiff, with three rows of seats for passengers and a skipper’s bench above. Behind the helm is a caged propeller like fan blade, powered by a gasoline-fed, Chevrolet 550 horse power engine. The noisy prop powers the boat at speeds up to 30 miles per hour across the open lake.

       At 1:30 P.M. a grizzled, older skipper, in a yellow, foul-weather coat, named Bill, collected the eight of us and ushered us into his airboat. He gave us a few instructions about wearing head phones and not letting anything lie loose on the seat. It would quickly be washed overboard. Bill powered the craft a few hundred yards from dock and stopped. He pointed out a twelve-foot alligator, that was lying in the shade on the bank. And then, we set out across the expanse of the lake. The breeze blowing on your face, as you rocket across the water, is a timeless pleasure. The sun was shining and you felt alive and primal.

       As we reached the far shore of the Lake, Bill piloted his craft amidst the reeds and gnarled spruce tree of the marshland surrounding the lake. It is among the reeds that he hoped to show us the real show stopper, a good-sized gator. The airboat had a very shallow draft. We cruised right over clumps of eelgrass and small mounds of leaves and dead branches. The noise and commotion of the boat startled legions of graceful birds. The great Blue Heron, in particular, is elegant and a thing of beauty in flight. The soft blue feathers of the wings, were tinted along the wings edge, with a deeper blue. The Heron in flight had a wing span of over eight feet, tucking its long stork like legs underneath as it launched into the sky. Similarly, the great white egrets were equally as attractive. Both of these elegant creatures were like watching a John James Audubon painting coming to life. There were many other avian friends, like the white and brown pelicans and the long-necked Anhinga circling aloft the fish rich waters. Each jumped into flight, as we approached, and settled onto another grassy hummock nearby. It was a visual banquet to watch them all around us.

       Our first view of alligators was that of a small three-footer, wriggling near the boat, Bill said he was a bout 18 months old. That meant that a much larger mama alligator was hovering nearby. Baby gators cling to their mothers, for two years after birth, until they can fend for themselves. The airboat wandered amidst the detritus of mangled grass and dead tree limbs, going anywhere it wished through the porous eel grass. At one stop, Bill pointed into the thick marsh. At first, we couldn’t see the well disguised form that lay there. Then, I noticed what appeared to be a corrugated hillside and then realized that it was indeed the massive form of a supine saurian monster. This alligator had to be 16 feet in length and at least three-feet wide across its body. You don’t think that they are even aware of your presence, until you see the nictating eyelids open and the deadly eyes stare out at you. Oops! Sorry to disturb your nap, allie.

        The airboat continued on, through the grassy channels, startling more of the graceful birds into flight. A few gopher sea turtles scurried to get out of our way, as did several species of ducks, with colorful red beaks and greenish black-feathers. The diversity of animal and plant life here is amazing. You also get the feeling of where you are, out in the everglades, a place little changed for thousands of years, and filled with deadly species like the Burmese Python, Panther, brown bear and several poisonous snakes, like the cotton mouth and rattler.

          As we cruised out, from the swampy morass, you could see along the lake, the wiry, eight-foot tall eel grass that drifted with the wind. It must be from this visage that the name “River of Grass” had been derived. Starting way up north, the Everglades make their way, originating just south of Kissimmee, mid-state. The river flows south and into the Caribbean, a few hundred miles to the south. It is one of nature’s great original ecological preserves.

          A last dash, across Lake Trafford, brought us back to the dock. Bill tied us up  his airboat at the wharf. We thanked him for his tour and tipped him liberally, pleased with the experience. It had only been an hour’s drift through the River of Grass, but we had come away much enriched by what we had seen. If you get down this way, make sure you stop by.

                                                  -30-

                                           (1,146 words)

                                   Joseph Xavier Martin